first into St.
George's face, then into Harry's, with a cold, rigid stare; his lips
shut tight, his head thrown back, his whole frame stiff as an iron
bar--and without a word of recognition of any kind, passed through the
open door and into the wide hall. He had cut both of them dead.

Harry gave a half-smothered cry of anguish and turned to follow his
father into the club.

St. George, purple with rage, laid his hand on the boy's arm, so tight
that the fingers sank into the flesh: there were steel clamps inside
these delicate palms when occasion required.

"Keep still," he hissed--"not a word, no outburst. Stay here until I
come for you. Stop, Rutter: stand where you are!" The two were
abreast of each other now. "You dare treat your son in that way?
Horn--Murdoch--Warfield--all of you come out here! What I've got to say
to Talbot Rutter I want you to hear, and I intend that not only you but
every decent man and woman in Kennedy Square shall hear!"

The colonel's lips quivered and his face paled, but he did not flinch,
nor did his eyes drop.

"You are not a father, Talbot--you are a brute! There is not a dog
in your kennels that would not treat his litter better than you have
treated Harry! You turned him out in the night without a penny to his
name; you break his mother's heart; you refuse to hear a word he has
to say, and then you have the audacity to pass him on the steps of this
club where he is my guest--my guest, remember--look him squarely in
the face and ignore him. That, gentlemen, is what Talbot Rutter did one
minute ago. You have disgraced your blood and your name and you have
laid up for your old age untold misery and suffering. Never, as long
as I live, will I speak to you again, nor shall Harry, whom you have
humiliated! Hereafter _I_ am his father! Do you hear?"

During the whole outburst the colonel had not moved a muscle of his face
nor had he shifted his body a quarter of an inch. He stood with his
back to the door through which could be seen the amazed faces of his
fellow-members--one hand tight shut behind his back, the other loose by
his side, his eyes fixed on his antagonist. Then slowly, one word at a
time, as if he had purposely measured the intervals of speech, he said,
in a voice hardly heard beyond the door, so low was it:

"Are--you--through--St. George?"

"Yes, by God!--I am, and forever!"

"Then, gentlemen"--and he waved his hand courteously to the astounded
listeners--"may I as