at pocket. Beside me I heard Brutus
draw a sharp breath. I saw Mr. Sims fumble under his cloak and take a
quick step backwards. There was a tense, pregnant silence, broken by Mr.
Sims in fervent expletive. My father had withdrawn his hand. He was
holding in it his silver snuff box, which he tossed carelessly on the
table, where it slid among the wine bottles.

"Why strain so at a gnat, Lawton," he continued in his old conversational
manner. "Though one can kill a sparrow with a five pound shot, is it
worth the effort? Small as my personal regard is for you, a note penned
in three lines would have brought you back your trinket. But when you say
it is stolen--"

With a gesture of exasperation, Mr. Lawton attempted to interrupt.

"When you say it is stolen," my father continued, raising his voice,
"your memory fails you. I won that snuff box from you fairly, because
your horse refused a water jump in Baltimore fifteen years ago."

Mr. Lawton made a grimace of impatience.

"Perhaps I can refresh your memory on a more immediate matter," he
interjected harshly, "a matter rather more in keeping with your
character. Don't, don't move, I beg of you! At a certain chateau in the
Loire Valley, as recently as two months ago, you had an unfortunate
escapade with French government agents."

"Let us err on the side of accuracy," said my father in gracious assent,
"and add that the affair was rather more unfortunate for the agents than
for myself."

"Meaning it was fortunate you ran away, I suppose," suggested Mr. Lawton,
"fortunate, but natural. You escaped, Shelton, in the company of a
certain young lady they were seeking to apprehend. You retained in your
possession a list of names of political importance. It is a part of your
damned blackmail, I suppose. I say you stole that paper!"

"Indeed?" said my father. "In that case, permit me! The snuff is
excellent, Lawton, although the box is commonplace."

"By God!" shouted Mr. Lawton, "I've had enough of your damned simpering
airs? You're a coward, Shelton. Why conceal it from me? A coward, afraid
to demand satisfaction after a public insult--a thief with your theft
still about you. I've come to get that list, to return it to its rightful
owners. Try your drunkard's bragging on stupefied boys, but not on me!
For the last time--will you give that letter up?"

My father's hand that held the snuff box trembled. His glance was almost
furtive as he looked from Mr. Sims back to Mr.