CHAPTER XV.
REVELATIONS.
Now look straight for'ard," said Mr. Welsh, "and distinguish. You call this affair of yours and the book—a revelation. There are revelations, my friend, that may be written with a capital R, and others that have to begin with a small cap."
Mr. Welsh was not particular about the English he spoke, but he wrote it well, at least passably.
"The sort of revelation that suits me, one with a capital R, is that at which a shorthand reporter assists. That's the sort of revelation we get in the courts—that is, as the French say, controlé. But on the other hand comes your hole-and-corner revelation, which has more given it than is its due when written with a little r. No reporter, no public present, totally uncontrolled; that sort of revelation is no use to me. I don't mean to say but that sort of thing may go down at revivals, but for the press it is no good at all."
"Am I likely to have imagined it? What should have put the thought of 'The Gilded Clique' into my head?" asked Saltren angrily. "I tell you I believe in this revelation as I believe that I see you before me."
"Gilded Clique!" repeated Welsh, "I can't say, but Gaboriau's criminal novel may have fallen under your eyes."
"What is that?"
"A French novel with that title. It has been translated."
