"For your mother's sake, my boy, I have overlooked your little eccentricities of character. But now we have arrived at the parting of the ways—you have gone too far. The one aspect of this business I cannot overlook is your willingness to sell your own father for the sake of a woman."
"My own father," interrupted Jefferson bitterly, "would not hesitate to sell me if his business and political interests warranted the sacrifice!"
Shirley attempted the role of peacemaker. Appealing to the younger man, she said:
"Please don't talk like that, Mr. Jefferson." Then she turned to Ryder, Sr.: "I don't think your son quite understands you, Mr. Ryder, and, if you will pardon me, I don't think you quite understand him. Do you realize that there is a man's life at stake—that Judge Rossmore is almost at the point of death and that favourable news from the Senate to-morrow is perhaps the only thing that can save him?"
"Ah, I see," sneered Ryder, Sr. "Judge Stott's story has aroused your sympathy."
"Yes, I—I confess my sympathy is aroused. I do feel for this father whose life is slowly ebbing away—whose strength is being sapped hourly by the thought of the disgrace—the injustice that is being done him! I do feel for the wife of this suffering man!"
"Ah, its a complete picture!" cried Ryder mockingly. "The dying father, the sorrowing mother—and the daughter, what is she supposed to be doing?"
"She is fighting for her father's life," cried Shirley, "and you, Mr. Jefferson, should have pleaded—pleaded—not demanded. It's no use trying to combat your father's will."
"She is quite right, father I should have implored you. I do so now. I ask you for God's sake to help us!"
Ryder was grim and silent. He rose from his seat and paced the room, puffing savagely at his cigar. Then he turned and said: