rvously.

"It would give me a chance to defend myself, and that is just what I
want, now I have the means to do so."

"You have some queer conceits, young man," sneered he. "What have you
done with that girl?"

"She is safe."

"I asked you what you had done with her."

"And I didn't answer you."

"What have you done with her?"

"She is safe."

"Running away with her is another criminal offence."

"If it is, I shall fight that battle on the same ground with the other.
If you choose to take me back to Parkville on any charge, of course you
can do so. If you do, a certain document will be brought to light, which
will convince Mrs. Loraine and everybody else, that Mr. Tom Thornton,
with his gold watch and chain, his span of bays, and his fine clothes,
isn't worth a dollar in the world."

Tom's lip actually quivered.

"I don't want to injure you, Ernest," said he. "Your uncle is not
willing that you should be brought to justice."

"I have no desire to bring him to justice, either."

"You talk like a fool, like a small boy," said he, impatiently.

"Then don't talk with me."

"You will make out that you haven't done anything wrong yourself, but
your friends have made a martyr of you. When I offer to get you out of
the scrape into which you have plunged, you speak just as though you
were the injured party."

"Exactly so, and I speak just what I mean. You talk to me just as though
you and your father had not suppressed my father's will, intending to
rob me of my inheritance, and kept my mother in a madhouse for ten or a
dozen years."

"What sort of bosh are you talking now?" demanded Tom, with an effort,
while his face was pale, and his frame trembled.

"I can prove it all. If you and your father wish to tell me where my
mother is, and to make terms you can tell me what you will do," I added,
following up my advantage.

"You have taken some ridiculous notion into your head, and I really
don't know what you are talking about."

"Did you ever read my father's will?"

"Your father's will!" exclaimed he. "I never heard that he made a will.
If he did, it was the most ridiculous thing he ever did in the whole
course of his life, for he hadn't a penny to leave."

"Perhaps you can tell me why my uncle so persistently refused to tell me
anything about my father or my mother?"

"I certainly can if you insist upon it; though, having more regard for
you than you have for yourself, I should prefer to follow you