"Go! or I'll have you thrown out;" and the bell rang violently.
"Oh, is that the game?" replied Challoner.
Daventry strode round the room.
"Not a word! Go! I loathe you."
And the door was wrenched violently open. Cynthia had just time to drop into her chair. She heard her father's voice close to her, and no longer through the panels of a door. She cowered down, covering her face with her hands, and drawing in her feet.
"All right, I'll go," said Challoner. "I can afford to go. For I have the law on my side."
"The law! Try it!"
"I will."
Challoner was standing in the doorway now. He was looking back into the study. But he had only to turn his head to see that blur of misty white in the chair, only to bend down and draw the trembling hands from the girl's face to find his daughter in his grasp. Cynthia lay holding her breath, ready at a touch of him to swoon.
"She's my daughter. All your money won't get over that. Just wait and see. I'll come back with the law at my side, and take her away--yes--if I have to tie her hand and foot to take her."