"Captain Shelton be damned!" snapped Lawton. "Keep your name to yourself,
Sims, and watch the nigger and the boy. Now, Shelton, for the reason why
I'm here."

"Indeed, I am forced to admit the reason for your visit may have its
pertinence," my father admitted. "The fatigues of a long day, coupled
with the evening's wine--" He stifled a yawn behind the back of his hand,
and smiled in polite deprecation.

Slight as was his speech, Mr. Lawton seemed to take a deep interest in
it. Indeed, even while he backed around the table and seated himself in
the chair I had occupied, my father's slightest expression engaged his
undivided attention. There fell a silence such as sometimes comes at a
game of cards when the stakes at the table are running higher than is
pleasant. Brutus was watching Mr. Sims with a malignant intensity. Mr.
Sims watched Brutus. Mr. Lawton's eyes, as I have said, never left my
father, and my father polished his nails on the sleeve of his coat.

"Did I understand you to say," he asked finally, "that you were planning
to relieve my mind of the burden of speculation?"

"Quite," said Mr. Lawton, with a poor attempt at dryness. "I have come
here tonight to induce or force you to return a piece of stolen property.
I give you the liberty of taking your choice. Either--"

His voice raised itself to a sharp command.

"_Damn you, Shelton, sit still!_"