“Why have I two such sons!” he exclaimed. “I’ve not been bad. I’ve squeezed a few; I’ve struck here and there; I’ve mauled my enemies, but I’ve been good to my own. Why can’t I run square with my own family?” He was purple to the roots of his hair.
Savagery possessed him. Life was testing him to the nth degree. “I’ve been a good father, and a good husband! Why am I treated like this?”
She watched him silently. Presently, however, the storm seemed to pass. He appeared to gain control of himself.
“You want me to have in Carnac?” he asked, with a little fleck of foam at the corners of his mouth.
“If you could have Fabian back,” she remarked, “but you can’t! It’s been coming for a long time. He’s got your I.O.U. and he won’t return; but Carnac’s got plenty of stuff in him. He never was afraid of anything or anybody, and if he took a notion, he could do this business as well as yourself by and by. It’s all a chance, but if he comes in he’ll put everything else aside.”
“Where is he?” the old man asked. “He’s with his mother at your home.”
The old man took his hat from the window-sill. At that moment a clerk appeared with some papers. “What have you got there?” asked Grier sharply. “The Belloc account for the trouble on the river,” answered the clerk.
“Give it me,” Grier said, and he waved the clerk away. Then he glanced at the account, and a grim smile passed over his face. “They can’t have all they want, and they won’t get it. Are you coming with me?” he asked of the girl, with a set look in his eyes. “No. I’m going back to my sister,” she answered.
“If he leaves me—if he joins Belloc!” the old man muttered, and again his face flushed.
A few moments afterwards the girl watched him till he disappeared up the hill.