"I am not quite right, perhaps, in saying that the whole affair is trumped up, but undoubtedly it is much exaggerated, and more importance is being attached to it than it deserves. You must not mind my saying that I cannot form the same opinion of Mr. Parkinson as yourself. It seems to me that he is desirous of making capital out of his calamity. I have done all I could, have I not, to clear myself of the charge?"
"I do not see that you could have done more."
"There is nothing more to stop for, then. Shall we go?"
"Not yet. You may, if you wish, but I shall remain to make inquiries."
"I will remain with you, sir, of course. It would not be safe to leave you alone in such a neighborhood as this."
"It would be quite safe. You forget that it was in just such neighborhoods I passed my young days. I know them better than you appear to do, Inglefield. The people we see about us are respectable members of society--quite as respectable as ourselves. As to remaining, please yourself. I do not feel at all out of place in such society."
"Nor do I, sir," said Mark Inglefield, with a frank smile. "It is only my anxiety for you that made me say what I did."
"There is another matter which you seem to have forgotten. It is in this neighborhood that my son and his wife and daughter live, If I am not mistaken, Mr. Parkinson wishes to say something to us."
During this colloquy Mr. Parkinson had calmed himself greatly, and now, followed by his friends, approached the gentlemen.
"I should like to ask you a question or two," he said, addressing himself to Mark Inglefield, "if you have no objection."