"I am sorry to learn," continued Mark Inglefield, "that this man has been wronged, and sorry to learn that trouble has come to him through his daughter. They are both entire strangers to me. What I ask is that he bring his daughter forward now to corroborate my statement that she and I never saw each other in all our lives."
"But that," said one of Mr. Parkinson's friends, "is just what he can't do. His daughter has strangely disappeared in the night."
Mark Inglefield turned towards Mr. Manners, with a smile of incredulity on his lips.
"Our errand here seems to be wasted. Let me speak to you a moment out of hearing of these people."
The working-men moved aside to allow the two gentlemen to pass, and when they were a little apart Mark Inglefield said:
"I hope you are satisfied, sir."
"So far as you are concerned," replied Mr. Manners, "I cannot help being. But there is something still at the bottom of this that I would give much to get at the truth of."
"Why, sir," said Mark Inglefield, scornfully, "can you not see that the whole affair is trumped up?"
"No, I cannot see that. These men were not aware that we were coming here this morning, and even if they were it is not likely that they would have got up this excitement for our especial benefit."
Mark Inglefield bit his lip.