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Updated: May 10, 2025
Caffyn seemed to have forgotten their recent conversation as he deliberately sipped his coffee and took a cigarette; he offered Mark one and it was declined. 'What do you suspect me of having done? demanded Mark. 'Oh, my dear fellow, I don't suspect you, replied Caffyn, 'I know. You can't play the moralist with me, you high-minded old paragon! He spoke with a kind of savage jocularity.
As it is, you have been clever enough to choose the one shield through which I can't strike you if I ever thought more of that wretched book than of her happiness, it was only for a moment she knows nothing as yet, and she must never know! 'She will know it some day, said Mark, heavily. 'Why should she know? demanded Vincent, impatiently; 'you don't mean that that infernal Caffyn knows?
'Hang it, Ashburn, why shouldn't I do an unselfish thing as well as you? What's the fellow's address? 'He he's emigrated, said Mark; 'you'd find it rather difficult to come across him now. 'Should I? Caffyn returned; 'well, I daresay I should. And Mark rose and went to one of the windows for some air. He remained there for a short time looking idly down the darkening street.
It was only when I sent down to Colombo, months afterwards, for my heavy baggage, that I heard what had happened to the ship. 'Well, observed Caffyn, 'you might have written then. 'I know that, said Holroyd: 'the fact is, though, that I never thought it possible, after going off the ship, as I did at Bombay, that I could be reported amongst the missing.
And all this he owed to Mark Ashburn a fact which Harold Caffyn was not the man to forget. He had been careful to cultivate him, had found out his address and paid him one or two visits, in which he had managed to increase the intimacy between them. Mark was now entirely at his ease with him. His air of superiority had been finally dropped on the evening of Mr.
For some time after the loss of the 'Mangalore' she had been depressed and silent to a degree which persuaded Caffyn that his old jealousy of Holroyd was well-grounded, and when she recovered her spirits somewhat, while she was willing to listen and laugh or talk to him, there was always the suggestion of an armistice in her manner, and any attempt on his part to lead the conversation to something beyond mere badinage was sure to be adroitly parried or severely put down, as her mood varied.
'Then Mabel Miss Langton, is going to be married? he asked in a curiously quiet tone. 'Rather, said Caffyn; 'brilliant match in its way, I understand. Not much money on his side, but one of the coming literary fellows, and all that kind of thing, you know; just the man for that sort of girl. Didn't you know about it?
Postman's coom over fra' Drigg wi' a letter will it be for wan of ye? and she held out an eccentrically shaped and tinted envelope; 'there's a bonny smell on it, she observed. 'It's all right, said Caffyn, 'it's mine; no newspapers, eh? Well, perhaps this will do as well! and as the door closed upon the maid he tore open the letter with some eagerness.
His self-confidence was restored, for he to whom an idea is revealed becomes the idea, and is no longer personal and consequently poor. His room seemed too small for him; he shut his book and went to Great Ormond Street. He found there Marshall, Mrs Caffyn, Clara and a friend of Marshall's named Dennis. 'Where is your wife? said Baruch to Marshall.
'I shall be very willing, said Caffyn. 'No! said Mabel, eagerly, 'if he has anything to say, let him say it here Mark must not be stabbed in the dark! 'It's simply impossible to speak here, said Caffyn. 'People may come in at any moment through those doors as soon as this waltz is over. Mrs. Featherstone will not thank either of us for making a scene. 'The doors can be locked, cried Mabel.
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