Vincent's hand trembled as he took the book. Then he opened it, and the title-page did tell him all. His worst suspicions were more than verified. He had been meanly betrayed by the man he had trusted—the man whom he had thought his dearest friend! The shock stunned him almost as if it had found him totally unprepared. 'It was Mark, then,' he said only half aloud, as he put the book down again very gently.
'Ah, so you know him?' said Mr. Fladgate, who stood by smiling.
'He was one of my oldest friends,' replied Vincent, still in a low voice.
'And you suspected him, eh?' continued the publisher, who was not the most observant of men.
'He took some pains to put me off the scent,' said Vincent.
'Yes; he kept his secret very well, didn't he? Now, you see, he feels quite safe in declaring himself—a very brilliant young man, sir. I congratulate you in finding an old friend in him.'
'I am very fortunate, I know,' said Vincent, grimly.
'Oh, and it will be a pleasant surprise for him too!' said Mr. Fladgate, 'very pleasant on both sides. Success hasn't spoilt him in the least—you won't find him at all stuck up!'
'No,' agreed Vincent, 'I don't think I shall. And now perhaps you will have no objection to give me his present address, and then I need trouble you no longer at present.'
'I see—you would naturally like to congratulate him!'