impulses and higher
sentiments must minister.

While cruelly conscienceless in pursuit of desired ends, Pierre Lanier,
unlike Paul, never permitted passion to interfere with matured or
maturing plans.

Having much of his father's fastidious taste, persistent tenacity, and
crafty avarice, Paul is deficient in this cold-tempered power of
self-control.

Pierre is aware of this weakness. Many fatherly precepts to correct such
passionate tendency had been uttered. However, this deliberate,
cold-blooded man had found his son's hasty temper of service, and in
emergency did not hesitate to fan its slumbering fires.

During recent years many crafty lessons had been taught and learned.
From the time when Paul began to press his attentions upon Alice
Webster, to present disguised straits in London suburb, this teacher and
pupil had been seldom long apart. Practical demonstrations had convinced
Pierre that his son was very apt.

Paul has been more reticent and absorbed; he eats little; trifles annoy
him; his father's presence is offense; at Pierre's curious look or
speech Paul frowns or is pertly insolent. Suddenly starting, aimlessly
pausing, fiercely scowling, vacantly staring, he is again seated.
Passing hatless and partially disguised up the rickety cellar stairs, he
turns upon his father, resentment gleaming from those glowing black
eyes, then weak and nerveless submits to restraint, abjectly penitent,
mutely concurring in paternal rebuke.

Pierre finds it necessary to remain indoors when Paul is at their room.
That his son is averse to this the father plainly sees. Yet such
displeasure is strangely vague. There is no spoken protest.

Paul twitches uneasily, glancing suddenly and often at his watch. Asked
as to the time, he looks into vacancy, again consults his watch, starts
up, moves about, sits down, makes no reply, the neck relaxes, and the
whole body droops in apparent collapse.

Pierre resolves that during this strange indisposition Paul must not go
out alone. Such conduct would attract notice. Paul might bring on
notoriety by some fierce, resentful act. It is certain that such
suggestion will anger him, but there is no remedy.

After humoring Paul's every whim and doing many little positive
kindnesses, Pierre, in most persuasive tones, begs as a special favor
that they change shifts for once.

"I will watch to-night, while you get some sleep."

The young man springs up, glowers at his father, scowls, and