time. But I felt that I had the
whip-hand and held myself in.

"Fortunately," he said, "your will, young man, is not law here. It is
not in your power to put us out of your mother's home."

"You are mistaken," I replied, still quietly. "I have that power."

"You are a minor, sir," said Mr. Downes, loftily. "I brand your
ridiculous story as false. It would be quite within your character to
have cut your coat sleeve as Paul says. I will not even believe that
that is his knife----"

He stretched out his hand to take it from the table but I was too quick
for him. "No, you don't!" I said. "That is too valuable a bit of
evidence for you to get hold of. Even Paul will not deny owning the
knife. I know where he bought it and I can find the man who engraved his
initials on the blade."

"Very well planned indeed," sneered Mr. Downes, but I sternly
interrupted:

"Mr. Downes, again I tell you that you _must_ leave this house. You and
Paul shall never again live under the same roof with me."

"When I hear your mother say this----"

"This is a matter which my mother will not have to decide," I assured
him, and without looking at her although I had returned to my place by
her side.

"And why should we obey your behest, young man?"

"If you don't leave I shall go out at once and swear out a warrant
against Paul for assault with this knife. And I'll have the warrant
served, too."

"Oh, Clinton!" sobbed my mother. "Don't think of such a thing."

"As sure as I live it shall be done, unless they go."

"Think of the publicity!" said my mother, clinging to my hand.

"Yes," I rejoined, bitterly. "And think what might have happened if he'd
got me with that knife."

"You--you----" gasped Mr. Downes. "You are your father right over
again!"

"Thank you; I consider that a compliment."

"You wouldn't consider it such if you knew as much about him as I do,"
he muttered.

"Now that will do!" I exclaimed, losing my self-control on the instant.
"I've heard enough insinuations regarding father from Paul tonight. I
won't stand any more of that talk, I warn you both!"

"Clinton!" murmured mother, with a very white face, while Downes turned
upon his son in a sudden rage.

"What have you been saying--you fool?" he snarled. Paul was quite cowed
before his sudden wrath.

"Paul may be diffident about saying," I observed. "But I'll tell you. He
says my father committed suicide, and that if he hadn't done so my
mother and I would be