“He is an officer from Scotland Yard. I have lodged a complaint against you for kidnapping my ward. Although you are my son, I shall proceed against you as though you were an utter stranger.”
A rat will turn when it is cornered, and Clarence felt that he must do something, or within an hour he would be behind the bars.
“Do you mean to have me arrested, father?”
“Certainly, I do, and if the case goes against you, you won’t see that wife of yours for years to come.”
The words stung Clarence. Separated from Jennie! No, he could not stand that.
“Father, under the circumstances, I consider myself absolved from the promise I made you to keep silent about Bertha’s property. If I am taken to court I shall tell the whole story.”
“I had supposed that you would,” said his father. “Your landlady said that Bertha, or Miss Barker, as she called her, had gone up North, but I know better. She is gone to Paris to meet Jack De Vinne. You can get ready to go with the officer. We will be back for you in five minutes.”
Clarence did not know what to do. He had lost his hold over his father. His threat to tell the truth about Bertha’s fortune had failed to produce any effect upon him.
During the five minutes which had been allowed him, Clarence did nothing but think in an aimless sort of a way of a dozen impossible courses of action.
The door of the private office opened and his father entered with Mr. Lake.