You
both look like the dead."

Mrs. Lambert's face was wrinkled and haggard and wan like that of one
grown suddenly old, and Morton was aware that her serenity was utterly
gone before she spoke. Her voice was weak and piteous. "I thought it
was all for the best, Joe. I followed the 'guides'--"

"Follow them a little longer and you'll all land in the mad-house," he
replied. Then to Viola he tenderly said: "Don't you worry any more,
girlie. Old Papa-Joe's going to take you home."

Serviss spoke. "You're to come to us to-night. Kate expects you both."

At the sound of his voice Viola turned with an impulsive reaching of
the hands. "Oh, Dr. Serviss, that would be heavenly! I love your
sister and her beautiful home."

Lambert issued his command. "Get your outfits together. I don't
understand how you got here, but you're going to get out with me
within the next half-hour."

Viola's spirit rose like flame. "We're all ready--this moment. I sent
our trunks away this morning. They went to the West Park. I'll be down
instantly," and she turned to run up the stairs, just as Clarke
appeared at their head. His face was white and wild and his voice
hoarse with fear and reproach as he intercepted her.

"What has happened? Who is below?"

"My step-father," she answered, curtly, and fled away to her room.

Mrs. Lambert was about to follow when she saw Clarke descending, and
drew back with a look of appeal at her husband. It was evident to
Serviss that her confidence in Clarke had given place to fear.

During all this time Pratt had been standing meditatively swaying to
and fro on his feet, chewing upon something which he held far back in
his cheek. He resembled a sullen, chained, and vindictive elephant
meditating murder. He watched Clarke descend the stairs with very
little change of expression; but Lambert's face darkened as the
minister called out:

"What are you going to do?"

"That does not concern you," he replied, and his voice cut. "Your
control of my household stops right here! Julia, go get your things."
He laid an imperative hand on Clarke's arm. "Clear the way for her!"

With a look of alarm Mrs. Lambert started to follow her daughter.
"Don't be harsh, Joe." Then to Clarke she said, pleadingly: "It's
best, Anthony, for a little while. Viola is so nervous and morbid."

"I know what it means," he passionately answered. "It means the wreck
of all my hopes. It means ruin to all my plans--"

Lambert again interf