Presently the subject of his thoughts came upon the scene, and the visitor saw at once that his old friend was unlike himself.  The Canon was exceedingly alert from the moment Mark came into the room, trying to catch up the faintest indication, in his voice or movements, as to whether he were in good or low spirits; he almost thought he heard a quick sigh as Mark sat down.  He could not see that Mark was undeniably thinner and paler than he had been only a few weeks ago, and that his eyes looked even more bright and keen in consequence.

“Take some tea,” said the Canon; and then, when he had given him time to drink his tea, he turned on him abruptly.

“I’ve heard some lies about you, and I’m going to tell you what they are.”

“Perhaps it’s better to be ignorant.”

“No, it’s not, now why did you incite young men to Socialism in South London?”

“Good heavens!” said Mark.  “Well, you shall catch it for that.  I will read you every word of that paper; not a line of anything else shall you hear till you’ve been obliged to give your ‘nihil obstat’ to ’True and False Socialism,’ by your humble servant.”

“But that’s not the worst that’s said of you.”

“Oh, no!  I know that.”

Perhaps if Canon Nicholls could have seen the strained look on the young face he could have understood.  As it was, he believed him to be taking the matter too lightly.

“When I was young,” he said, “I thought it my own fault if I made enemies, and you know where there is a great deal of smoke there has generally been some fire.”

“Then you mean to say,” answered Mark, in a voice that was hard from the effort at self-control, “that you think it is my fault that lies are told against me, although you do call them lies?”

“Frankly, I think you must have been careless,” said the old man, leaning forward and grasping the arm of his chair.  “I think you must have had too much disregard for appearances.”

He paused, and there was a silence of several moments, while the ticking of the clock was quite loud in the little room.

“Unless this is the doing of an enemy,” said Canon Nicholls.

“I do not know that it is an enemy,” said Mark, “but I know there is some one who is excessively angry and excessively afraid because I know a secret of great importance.”

“And that person is a woman, I suppose?”

“I cannot answer that,” said Mark.  He was standing now with one elbow on the end of the chimney-piece, and his head resting on his right hand, looking down at the worn rug at his feet.

“Will you tell me exactly what it is they do say?” said Mark, still speaking with an effort at cheerfulness that aggravated the nervous state of Canon Nicholls.