“Father,” I said, “give it to me.”
“Renalt—I can’t; I mustn’t.”
“Give it to me. If you refuse—I threaten nothing—but—give it to me!”
He held it forth in a shaking hand. I took it and slipped it into my pocket.
“Now,” I said, sternly, “I am going to see Dr. Crackenthorpe.”
He rose from his chair with a cry.
“You are mad, I tell you! You can do nothing—nothing.”
“It is time this ceased for good and all, father. I stand between you now—remember that. You have to choose between me and that villain. Which is it to be?”
“Renalt—my son. It is for your sake!”
“I can look after my own interests. Which is it to be?”