l tell
them, and they'll take my word for it. They'll take my word!"

"God!" cried Mr. Lawton. "So that's the reason! So that's the trick you
played. You dog! If I had only known--"

His face had become blanched with passion, and my uncle staggered back
before his upraised hand, but Mr. Lawton did not strike. For a moment he
stood rigid, and when he spoke he had regained his self-control.

"You will never tell it, Jason," he said slowly, and then he turned to my
father, and inclined his head very gravely, and his voice was no longer
harsh and strident.

"I often wondered why you left her so," he said, "and why you did not
face it. You feared her name might be dragged in the mire! Because he
threatened to bring her into that miserable business, you never raised a
hand. I always knew you were a gentleman, but I did not know you were Don
Quixote de la Mancha."

For the first time since the two had spoken, my father moved. He leaned
across the table, picked up the locket very gently, and placed it in his
coat. His eyes rested on Lawton, and returned his bow.

"Rubbish!" said my father. "One liar is bad enough, but why listen to
two? We will leave her name out of the conversation. Perhaps I had other
reasons for going away. Did they ever occur to you, Lawton? Perhaps, for
instance, I was sick of the whole business. Did you ever think I might
have found it pleasant to leave so uncongenial an atmosphere, that I was
relieved, delighted at the opportunity to leave lying relatives, and
friends who turned their backs? Faugh! I have kept the matter quiet for
fifteen years, merely because I was too indolent to stand against it. I
was too glad to see the cards fall as they did to call for a new deal.
There I was, tied up to a family of sniveling hypocrites. Look at Jason,
look at him. Who wouldn't have been glad to get away?"

And he bowed to my uncle ironically.

"Positively, I was glad to hear the crash. 'Very well,' I said, 'I am a
thief, since it pleases you to think so.' Thieves at least are a more
interesting society, and I have found them so, Lawton, not only more
interesting, but more honest."

But somehow there was no ring of conviction to his words. His voice
seemed unable to assume its old cynicism, and his face had lost its
former placidity. It had suddenly become old and careworn. Pain and
regret, sharp and poignant, were reflected there. His eyes seemed
strained and tired, the corners of his mouth had drooped,