"I said this morning," replied Mark Inglefield, striving to believe that the game was not yet lost, and that he could still continue to deceive the man upon whom he had imposed for so many years, "that I would find Mary Parkinson, and endeavor to extract the truth from her. With the aid of a detective I succeeded in tracking her here."
"Yes," said Mr. Manners, inwardly resolving to ascertain to what further lengths in the art of duplicity Mark Inglefield would go; "was she surprised to see you?"
"Very," said Mark Inglefield, beginning to gain confidence. "Very much surprised."
"She did not know you?"
"How could she, sir? It was a bold plan of mine, but I have hopes that it will be attended with the happiest results. To restore an erring child to her father's arms is a task of which I am sure you will approve."
"I do."
"Perhaps," continued Mark Inglefield (thinking to himself, "What a fool I was to exhibit any sign of fear!")--"perhaps to bring her back to the path of virtue and make an honest woman of her--this is what I hope to achieve. Then I could come to you, and say, 'I have done this good action in return for the slander which an enemy dared to breathe against me.'"
"It would be a good action. To bring a weak, erring child back to the path of virtue, and make an honest woman of her. Is that really your wish?"
"What other wish can I have, sir, with respect to Mr. Parkinson? Would it not entirely clear me from suspicion?"
Mr. Manners ignored the question. "She did not know you, you say. How did you introduce yourself to her? In your own name?"