It has been truly said that a father shall be judged by his sons, and that if he is found wanting, they will be a bane and a curse until death. All the enmity and resentment he had ever felt toward this man, all the shortcomings of his own character, indeed, every injury he had ever suffered, he now held to be the fault of the fat, corrupted animal before him.
“You will set her free, now,” he ejaculated. “Or so help me God, I will find her and do it myself!”
“Stephen.....”
“You fear Earl Arthur? It is I you should fear. I know enough to have you transported, along with the lowest horse-thieves and highwaymen!”
“You had best calm yourself, Stephen,” replied Lord Purceville coldly. “And if you know what is good for you---”
“Are you threatening me? Do you think I’m bluffing!” he cried, coming to within inches of his father’s face. “I am going to the Tower, now. And if I am in any way resisted, I will go to Earl Arthur instead, and put an end to your sorry game.”
“You will not---”
“Watch me!” And he turned on his heel, and made for the door.
Henry Purceville seized his son by the arm, and jerked him back into the center of the room. “Be still, I’m warning you! Don’t make me lock you away as well.”
With a scream of rage Stephen pushed him off, then flew at him, fists reeling. So great was his fury that he knocked the larger man down and, pinning him there, began to pummel him with half-blocked punches to the face.