Philip was bewildered by the man’s audacity. To fling into his face this charge!—to utter such impudent assertions as to Gerald! Belmont went on rapidly.
“You’d better confess yourself caught. I don’t care to talk much of what you have tried to manage. But on the getting possession of that boy, for my own reasons (that I may or may not explain to you)—on that thing, I tell you, once for all, I am determined.” Here his voice had a ring like metal in it. “My plan has been laid. I have consulted the proper authorities. Captain Widgins and several other gentlemen—”
“Do you suppose that they will support such a man as—”
“As they, not you, consider me,” replied Belmont. “Yes, I do. Unluckily for you, my reputation happens to differ—in various quarters. I shall have no trouble. Let me repeat it, you’ll save yourself much by quietly joining with me. I’ll tell you all that is necessary in due time, Touchtone,” he concluded, with a crowning dash of assurance, probably fancying that he had already bewildered Philip into submission. “The sum total of the affair is, I want possession of that little boy. Don’t try to prevent me! Bring him off the boat to-morrow morning when we stop at Martha’s Vineyard. I promise you I’ll let you understand things then far more fully than I can to-night. I’ll fix it all right with the captain, and I’ll say we’ve squared our quarrel. Last, but not least, you will never come across a job that will be so well worth your while. I should think not; that is, if you care for money. And not a hair of the boy’s head shall be hurt, for the world, in any case. Be sure of that.”
Choking with anger at having to listen to such an astounding proposal, but gathering new certainty that his adversary’s scheme must be a wonderful web of sheer rascality, Philip did not at once open his mouth. Then he asked, “And if I refuse to act as you advise me—which I think I ought to do, unless I can see more clearly what it means for me—what then?”
Belmont caught at the tone and words.
“Why, if you refuse, I shall at once charge you with this abduction. My right to take Gerald Saxton is another matter. I may or may not go into that. The claim against you is enough. Come, boy—for you are a boy and I a man, prepared to hold his ground against a hundred like you! You shall be in irons in half an hour if you try to play the hero here. Remember, I know you.”
“And you will actually dare to bring such a charge against me here, and at this time of night?” cried Philip, vehemently. “And you believe you can fight the plain story that Gerald and I can tell? Do your worst! I’m not afraid to face it. In irons? That is talk out of a dime-novel, Mr. Belmont.”
The boy was unnerved and terribly perplexed; but he was more sure than ever that his enemy’s scheme was hollow, even if he could not tell how far Belmont would support it.
Belmont was beginning to lose his temper because Philip so stood out against any thing like buncombe. His voice became suddenly so hoarse with passion that it was hard to believe that it came from the smooth-talking “Mr. Hilliard” of the express-train.