"Mr. Henry, would you mind telling me the name of the person you met?" resumed Trace, perceiving that if he wanted information he must ask distinctly for it.
"I cannot tell it you. I cannot tell you anything about him," was the reply. "We will quit the subject, if you please, Trace; it is neither yours nor mine."
"Where is he now? Will you tell me that? Is he in this neighbourhood?"
"Let the subject drop, Trace," reiterated Mr. Henry, with quiet authority. "I say that it is no concern of yours or of mine."
Trace felt himself checkmated; he feared he had not gone to work in a sufficiently crafty manner, which vexed him. "It may be better that you should satisfy me on this trifle," he resumed, rather scornfully. "You are in my power."
"In what manner?" quietly asked Mr. Henry.
"I know your secret. I could go to the Head Master this moment and say, 'We have a wolf in sheep's clothing amongst us; a man with a false name.' If he has glossed over other things, do you think he would gloss over that?"
"You can try him."
The equanimity of the voice was so entire, the manner so unruffled, that Trace began to feel doubtful of his grounds. "Can you deny what I say?" he asked. "I accuse you of being—not Mr. Henry, but Arthur Paradyne."
"I am Arthur Henry Paradyne: as the Head Master knows. Though I wonder how you came to find it out, Trace. In what way does the fact affect you?"