"You always did laugh," he cried shrilly.

"Never now, Mr. Lane," replied my father. "Yet I must admit, if
laughter were my habit--" he paused and surveyed Mr. Lane's pinched and
bony figure.

"You found the letter amusing, eh?" snapped Captain Tracy. "You found it
funny when we ordered you out of this town, did you? I suppose you
thought we were joking, eh? Well, by Gad, we weren't, and that's what
we've come to tell you. Heaven help us if we don't see you out on a rail,
you damned--"

"Gently, gently," interjected Mr. Penfield, in a soothing tone. "Let us
not use any harder words than necessary. Mr. Shelton will agree with us,
I am sure. Mr. Shelton did not understand. Perhaps Mr. Shelton has
forgotten."

"My memory," said my father, "still remains unimpaired. I recall the last
time I saw you was some ten years ago in this very house. I recall at
the time you warned me never to return here. In some ways, perhaps, you
were right, and yet at present I find my residence here most expedient.
Indeed, I find it quite impossible to leave. Frankly, gentlemen, the
house is watched, and it is as much as my life is worth to stir outside
the doors."

"Good God!" cried Mr. Lane, in the shrill voice that fitted him so well.
"We might have known it!"

There was a momentary silence, and Major Proctor whispered in Mr.