True to his promise, Corrance sought out the Bishop of Poplar, and delivered himself of his message. David Ross nodded, but his fine eyes were troubled.
"What's happened to Mark?" said Corrance irritably. "D——n it all—I beg your pardon, David, but Mark would make you swear, bishop though you are."
"I'll see him," said David; "but I—I don't know—I fear——" He broke off abruptly. Then his eyes flashed. "What's happened to Mark?
"As for me," said Jim, "I can see, but Mark, the blind fool, wants a nurse or a keeper. He's half child, half lunatic. I'll go now. You're up to your nose in work, and so am I. I suppose you want money, you shameless beggar?"
"All I can get and all I can't get."
"I shall have to send you a cheque," Jim growled. "I tell everybody you're the dearest friend I've got. Good-bye."
He retreated hastily, fearing a lecture. David returned to an enormous correspondence with which his secretary was endeavouring to cope. The poor man nearly burst into tears when his chief told him that he might be absent for several hours. David put on his hat, deaf to a score of protests.
"I'm going fishing," he said, "and, confound it! I've no bait."
Corrance had told him that Mark lunched at the Scribblers. To that club the Bishop took his way. There he learned that Mark was writing in the silence room. David walked in, unannounced, holding out his hand, which Mark refused to take.
"You went to Betty," he said fiercely.