r to return good for evil. But you're a
half-cooked Catholic, John. Let that pass too. Have you no manhood left
in you? Are you short on self-respect? This man brought out and backed
the woman who sought to ruin your son, to break your wife's heart, to
destroy your own happiness. With his permission she slandered the poor
nuns with tongue and pen, a vile woman hired to defile the innocent. And
for this man you throw dirt on your own, for this man you are going to
fight your own that he may get honors which he will shame. Isn't it fair
to think that you are going mad, Everard?"

"Don't attempt," said the other in a fury, "to work off your oratory on
me. I am going to Washington to expose your intrigues against a
gentleman. What! am I to tremble at your frown----?"

"Rot, man! Who asked you to tremble? I saved your boy from Livingstone,
and I shall save you from yourself, even if I have to put you in an
asylum for the harmless insane. Don't you believe that Livingstone is
the patron of Sister Claire? that he is indirectly responsible for that
scandal?"

"I never did, and I never shall," with vehemence. "You are one of those
that can prove anything----"

"If you were sure of his responsibility, would you go to Washington?"

"Haven't I the evidence of my own senses? Were not all Livingstone's
friends on the committee which exposed Sister Claire?"

"Because we insisted on that or a public trial, and they came with sour
stomachs," said Arthur, glad that he had begun to discuss the point.
"Would you go to Washington if you were sure he backed the woman?"

"Enough, young man. I'm off for the train. Here, Mary, my satchel----"

Two strong bands were laid on his shoulders, he was pushed back into his
chair, and the face which glowered on him after this astonishing
violence for the moment stilled his rage and astonishment.

"Would you go to Washington if you were sure Livingstone backed Sister
Claire?" came the relentless question.

"No, I wouldn't," he answered vacantly.

"Do you wish to be made sure of it?"

He began to turn purple and to bluster.

"Not a word," said his master, "not a cry. Just answer that question. Do
you wish to be made sure of this man's atrocious guilt and your own
folly?"

"I want to know what is the meaning of this," Everard sputtered, "this
violence? In my own house, in broad day, like a burglar."

"Answer the question."

Alarm began to steal over Everard, who was by no means a brave m