But upon Mr. Septimus Elphick the effect was very different.  He was still trembling from excitement; he groaned as he sank into his chair and the hand with which he poured out a glass of spirits shook; the glass rattled against his teeth when he raised it to his lips.  The half-contemptuous fashion of his reception of Spargo had now wholly disappeared; he was a man who had received a shock, and a bad one.  And Spargo, watching him keenly, said to himself:  This man knows a great deal more than, a great deal beyond, the mere fact that Marbury was Maitland, and that Ronald Breton is in reality Maitland’s son; he knows something which he never wanted anybody to know, which he firmly believed it impossible anybody ever could know.  It was as if he had buried something deep, deep down in the lowest depths, and was as astounded as he was frightened to find that it had been at last flung up to the broad light of day.

“I shall wait,” suddenly said Spargo, “until you are composed, Mr. Elphick.  I have no wish to distress you.  But I see, of course, that the truths which I have told you are of a sort that cause you considerable—­shall we say fear?”

Elphick took another stiff pull at his liquor.  His hand had grown steadier, and the colour was coming back to his face.

“If you will let me explain,” he said.  “If you will hear what was done for the boy’s sake—­eh?”

“That,” answered Spargo, “is precisely what I wish.  I can tell you this—­I am the last man in the world to wish harm of any sort to Mr. Breton.”

Miss Baylis relieved her feelings with a scornful sniff.  “He says that!” she exclaimed, addressing the ceiling.  “He says that, knowing that he means to tell the world in his rag of a paper that Ronald Breton, on whom every care has been lavished, is the son of a scoundrel, an ex-convict, a——­”

Elphick lifted his hand.

“Hush—­hush!” he said imploringly.  “Mr. Spargo means well, I am sure—­I am convinced.  If Mr. Spargo will hear me——­”

But before Spargo could reply, a loud insistent knocking came at the outer door.  Elphick started nervously, but presently he moved across the room, walking as if he had received a blow, and opened the door.  A boy’s voice penetrated into the sitting-room.

“If you please, sir, is Mr. Spargo, of the Watchman, here?  He left this address in case he was wanted.”

Spargo recognized the voice as that of one of the office messenger boys, and jumping up, went to the door.

“What is it, Rawlins?” he asked.

“Will you please come back to the office, sir, at once?  There’s Mr. Rathbury there and says he must see you instantly.”

“All right,” answered Spargo.  “I’m coming just now.”

He motioned the lad away, and turned to Elphick.

“I shall have to go,” he said.  “I may be kept.  Now, Mr. Elphick, can I come to see you tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, yes, tomorrow morning!” replied Elphick eagerly.  “Tomorrow morning, certainly.  At eleven—­eleven o’clock.  That will do?”