"But I want to go into the offices, Oswald," she feverishly rejoined. "I want to see Mark. I must see him."
"Mark is not at the offices. Neither would it be well that you should go there just now."
"Not at the offices! where is he then?"
"I don't know where he is. I should like to find him."
He spoke in a cold, proud, bitter tone, and it struck dismay to the heart of Mrs. Cray. Indeed Oswald's frame of mind was one of the most intense bitterness. He had been plausibly defrauded out of his money: his pride, his sensitive honour, his innate justice, had been wounded to the core. All this disgrace Mark Cray had been earning for himself; Mark, his half-brother!
"But I must see Mark," she reiterated in a helpless manner. "Don't you know where I can go to find him, Oswald?"
"I do not indeed."
"I want to know what has happened. I heard them speak of ruin; of water in the mine. Can you tell me?"
"News has come up that an irruption of water has taken place. I find it is not the first: but the other, they say, was not serious."
"And this is?"