"Let us err on the side of accuracy," said my father in gracious assent,
"and add that the affair was rather more unfortunate for the agents than
for myself."

"Meaning it was fortunate you ran away, I suppose," suggested Mr. Lawton,
"fortunate, but natural. You escaped, Shelton, in the company of a
certain young lady they were seeking to apprehend. You retained in your
possession a list of names of political importance. It is a part of your
damned blackmail, I suppose. I say you stole that paper!"

"Indeed?" said my father. "In that case, permit me! The snuff is
excellent, Lawton, although the box is commonplace."

"By God!" shouted Mr. Lawton, "I've had enough of your damned simpering
airs? You're a coward, Shelton. Why conceal it from me? A coward, afraid
to demand satisfaction after a public insult--a thief with your theft
still about you. I've come to get that list, to return it to its rightful
owners. Try your drunkard's bragging on stupefied boys, but not on me!
For the last time--will you give that letter up?"

My father's hand that held the snuff box trembled. His glance was almost
furtive as he looked from Mr. Sims back to Mr. Lawton. For a moment he
stared half-puzzled at Mr. Lawton's pistol. Then he moistened his lips.

"Suppose I should refuse?" he asked.

With a wan smile, Mr. Lawton rubbed his left hand over his long chin.

"In that case," he said, "I shall summon five men whom I hold outside.