I made a bow which I did my best to render the equal of my father's, and
for the first time I was glad I had entered his house.

"Mademoiselle," I said, "it is a pleasure to render you even so small
a service."

And I turned to my father, and met his glance squarely.

"I cannot see any profit to either of us for me to remain longer," I
observed, "either here or in this house," and I turned to the door.

"Brutus!" called my father sharply. "Stand by the door. Now sir, if you
leave this room before I am ready, my servant shall retain you by force.
Mademoiselle will pardon this domestic scene," he added, "the boy has an
uncertain temper."

I looked to see Brutus' great bulk grinning at me from the doorway. I saw
my father half smiling, and fingering the lace at his throat. I saw
Mademoiselle watching me, partly frightened, but partly curious, as
though she had witnessed similar occurrences. Then my pent up anger got
the better of me. Mr. Lawton's pistol still lay on the table. Before my
father could divine my intention, I had seized it, and held it pointed
at Brutus' head.

"Sir," I said, breathing a trifle faster than usual, "I am not used to
being threatened by servants. Order him to one side!"

My father looked at me almost admiringly, and his hand, that had been
fingering the lace, groped toward an empty bottle.