'Now,' began Vincent, 'you had some object in saying what you did down there. What was it?'
Caffyn had seated himself on the edge of a table which had been rolled into a corner with some other stage furniture. He smiled with much sweetness as he replied, 'I say, you know, we'd better come to the point. I know all about it!'
Only the pressing need of discovering the full extent of the other's information kept Vincent from some outburst.
'What do you know?' he demanded.
'Well,' said Caffyn, 'I know that you are the real pig, so to speak, and that miserable humbug Ashburn's only the squeak.'
'You mean you think you know that—what is your authority?'
'Now,' protested Caffyn, in a tone of injury, 'do you think I should venture on a bold statement like that without anything to back my opinion?'
'And if Ashburn and I both deny your bold statement—what becomes of it?'
'Ashburn has not denied it, and if he did I could put my hand on some written evidence which would go a long way to settle the question.'
'I should like to see your evidence,' said Vincent.