her died when I was a
little chap, and my father and I grew up together, chums. I don't
believe I ever thought of him as just simply a father. Fathers are
common. He was more than that. From the time I was ten years old we
were inseparable. I guess I was twenty before he told me of the deadly
feud that existed between him and Kirkstone, and it never troubled me
much--because I didn't think anything would ever come of it--until
Kirkstone got him. Then I realized that all through the years the old
rattlesnake had been watching for his chance. It was a frame-up from
beginning to end, and my father stepped into the trap. Even then he
thought that his political enemies, and not Kirkstone, were at the
bottom of it. We soon discovered the truth. My father got ten years. He
was innocent. And the only man on earth who could prove his innocence
was Kirkstone, the man who was gloating like a Shylock over his pound
of flesh. Conniston, if you had known these things and had been in my
shoes, what would you have done?"

Conniston, lighting another taper over the oil flame, hesitated and
answered: "I don't know yet, old chap. What did you do?"

"I fairly got down on my knees to the scoundrel," resumed Keith. "If
ever a man begged for another man's life, I begged for my father's--for
the few words from Kirkstone that would set him free. I offered
everything I had in the world, even my body and soul. God, I'll never
forget that night! He sat there, fat and oily, two big rings on his
stubby fingers--a monstrous toad in human form--and he chuckled and
laughed at me in his joy, as though I were a mountebank playing amusing
tricks for him--and there my soul was bleeding itself out before his
eyes! And his son came in, fat and oily and accursed like his father,
and HE laughed at me. I didn't know that such hatred could exist in the
world, or that vengeance could bring such hellish joy. I could still
hear their gloating laughter when I stumbled out into the night. It
haunted me. I heard it in the trees. It came in the wind. My brain was
filled with it--and suddenly I turned back, and I went into that house
again without knocking, and I faced the two of them alone once more in
that room. And this time, Conniston, I went back to get justice--or to
kill. Thus far it was premeditated, but I went with my naked hands.
There was a key in the door, and I locked it. Then I made my demand. I
wasted no words--"

Keith rose from the table and began to