t
dynamic will must keep this watch. If by any possible chance only Paul
knows of my plight, then there is hope. Should it transpire that the
spying figure seen on Thames bank has followed me home and is
responsible for after happenings, longer dallying must cease. Perhaps
Paul is now in custody. Those who shall come for Pierre Lanier will
witness a change and have short shrift."

Lying with cocked pistols held in each hand under the light spread, this
determined sentinel watches that cellar entrance.

After a half-hour, steps are heard on the stairs. Pierre's vigilant ear
detects his son's gait. Quickly resetting pistol-hammers and placing
both weapons under his pillow, the much relieved father feigns sleep
under screen of upturned arm, watching lower half of cellar door.

It seems a long while before the door opens. Convinced that his son is
alone, Pierre has no use for the pistols. Even should Paul meditate any
violence, his father cannot resort to armed resistance. Ready to slay
any other who hinders mature plans or attempts his arrest, Pierre Lanier
may not hurt this crazed boy.

There is in that depraved soul at least one sacred precinct where this
hunted, distracted, youthful head may find sanctuary. At this indulgent
bar there is such accusing sense of self-accounting for all unfilial
excesses as to preclude harsh judgment.

The door slowly opens. The lock clicks softly. Noislessly tiptoeing
across the room, Paul looks long and anxiously at his sleeping father.
At length he notes that most of the refreshments have disappeared. He
does not perceive the significance of this fact, but thinks his father
has continued in such queer stupor. Gently stroking the paternal brow,
Paul sits down. With silk handkerchief immersed in brandy, the son rubs
his father's temples and removes dirt-stains caused by fall of previous
evening. Slowly lifting the quilt, Paul critically examines
foot-bandages. Gently covering the swollen member, he resumes his watch,
in subdued undertones uttering most tender, filial sympathies, hopes,
and regrets.

It is doubtful if that listening sleeper ever before heard such
soothing, softly modulated tones. Hoping that Paul would give some clew
to recent events, Pierre lay long in this dissembling stupor. Fearing
from his son's nervous preparations that he soon may start out on some
night trip up the Thames, Pierre concludes to learn what has happened.
Slowly opening his eyes and staring at Pa