He began to flush--the numbers on his bumps to come out.
"Vereker's books had a general intention?"

I stared in my turn. "You don't mean to say you don't know it?" I
thought for a moment he was playing with me. "Mrs. Deane knew it;
she had it, as I say, straight from Corvick, who had, after
infinite search and to Vereker's own delight, found the very mouth
of the cave. Where IS the mouth? He told after their marriage--
and told alone--the person who, when the circumstances were
reproduced, must have told you. Have I been wrong in taking for
granted that she admitted you, as one of the highest privileges of
the relation in which you stood to her, to the knowledge of which
she was after Corvick's death the sole depositary? All I know is
that that knowledge is infinitely precious, and what I want you to
understand is that if you'll in your turn admit me to it you'll do
me a kindness for which I shall be lastingly grateful."

He had turned at last very red; I dare say he had begun by thinking
I had lost my wits. Little by little he followed me; on my own
side I stared with a livelier surprise. Then he spoke. "I don't
know what you're talking about."

He wasn't acting--it was the absurd truth.

"She DIDN'T tell you--?"

"Nothing about Hugh Vereker."

I was stupefied; the room went round. It had been too good even
for that! "Upon your honour?"