Duryea climbed a second step ... and another ... and still one more. On the fourth stair he stopped.
"Arthur!" His voice cut into the silence like the crack of a whip. "Arthur! Will you come down here?"
"Yes, Dad." Bedraggled, his body hanging like cloth, young Duryea took five steps to the landing.
"We can't be zanies!" cried Henry Duryea. "My soul is sick with dread. Tomorrow we're going back to New York. I'm going to get the first boat to open sea.... Please come down here." He turned about and descended the stairs to his room.
Arthur choked back the words which had lumped in his mouth. Half dazed, he followed....
In the bedroom he saw his father stretched face-up along the bed. He saw a pile of rope at his father's feet.
"Tie me to the bedposts, Arthur," came the command. "Tie both my hands and both my feet."
Arthur stood gaping.
"Do as I tell you!"
"Dad, what hor——"