so that this faculty of control made his
passions more dangerous. But he reveled in his passions, the
possession of them filled him with an ironic satisfaction--they were
his heritage.

While he sat in the chair the blackness of the night enveloped him. He
heard no sound from the other part of the house and he finally decided
to find and confront his father. He stood erect, lit the cigarette and
threw the match from him, accidentally striking his hand against the
back of the chair on which he had been sitting. Yielding to a sudden,
vicious anger, he kicked the chair out of the way, so that it slid
along the rough floor a little distance and overturned with a crash.
Calumet cursed. He was minded to take the chair up and hurl it down
again, so vengeful was the temper he was in, but his second sober sense
urged upon him the futility of attacking inanimate things and he
contented himself with snarling at it. He stood silent for a moment, a
hope in his heart that his father, alarmed over the sudden commotion,
would come to investigate, and a wave of sardonic satisfaction swept
over him when he finally heard a faint sound--a footstep in the
distance.

His father had heard and was coming!

Calumet stood near the center of the room, undecided whether to make
his presence known at once or to secrete himself and allow his father
to search for him. He finally decided to stand where he was and let
his father come upon him there, and he stood erect, puffing rapidly at
the cigarette, which glowed like a firefly in the darkness.

The steps came nearer and Calumet heard a slight creak--the sound made
by the dining-room door as it swung slowly open. A faint light filled
the opening thus made in the doorway, and Calumet knew that his father
had come without a light--that the faint glow came from a distance,
possibly from the kitchen, just beyond the dining-room. The lighted
space in the doorway grew wider until it extended to the full width of
the doorway. And a man stood in it, rigid, erect, motionless.

Calumet stood in silent appreciation of the oddness of the
situation--he had come like a thief in the night--until he remembered
the cigarette in his mouth; that its light was betraying his position.
He reached up, withdrew the cigarette, and held it concealed in the
palm of his hand.

But he was the fraction of a second too late. His father had seen the
light; was aware of his presence. Calumet saw a pistol glitter i