ed by the blow. He forgot all about the
murder now. It did not seem to exist, or if it did it was somewhere
far back in the background, and everything was altered. He had dreamed
of the time when he would find his father for himself--thought, too, of
what he would say to him, painted pictures of their first meeting. But
now everything seemed shattered. Nothing was real! Everything was
real, terribly real!

Even yet he could not understand the whole bearings of the case. His
brain was confused. Every issue seemed involved, but he did not doubt
his mother's words. It seemed to him the key of the puzzle which had
been haunting him for years. Judge Bolitho his father! Yes, his
treatment of him had been a part, a natural part, of the whole history.
What wonder that he who had deceived and betrayed his mother should
also be the enemy of his son! He understood his feelings now,
understood why when he had first seen this proud, clever man he had a
feeling of instinctive hatred towards him. He had been cruel to him in
the examination when he was tried years before for the part he had
taken in the riot. As the counsel for the prosecution he had seemed to
delight in fastening all the guilt upon him, his son. He remembered
the look of satisfaction upon his face when the justice committed him
to six months' imprisonment in Strangeways Gaol. Yes, he had hated him
then, for that matter they had hated each other. Then came the
election at Brunford. Every incident of the fight came back to him.
He had felt then that this man Bolitho was fighting him unfairly, using
devil's tools to beat him, allowing his mother's name to be dragged in
the mud, in order to gain the victory, while all the time he--he----

"Don't speak, mother, don't speak for a minute. Let me try to
understand."

He walked around the cell like one demented, his face set, his eyes
flashing. Again and again he dashed his hand across his forehead as if
to sweep away the shadows which rested upon his brain, as if trying to
untangle the skeins of his life.

Yes, he had defied him even to the very last. When the votes were
counted, and when his father, his enemy, had won the victory, he had
defied him. He had told him before the surging mob that they would
meet again, and always to fight, yes, and they would, too. He had a
new weapon in his hands now!

What would the world say if it knew? He almost felt like laughing at
the thought. What would the