"Wh—-what do you propose to do, Griffins?" demanded the elder
Dodge, shaking.
"Why, I hope to save your worthless son from prosecution, Mr. Dodge," returned the lawyer. "But a crime has been committed, in that your son procured others to swear to false affidavits True, the affidavits have not yet been presented in court, and on that I base my hope that the matter will not have to go further. But I feel in honor bound to submit the facts to the district attorney, and to be governed by his instructions."
"You are going to try to send me to jail?" gasped Dodge, clutching at the ledge of a bookcase to save himself from falling.
"I am going to try to persuade the district attorney to let the matter drop," replied Griffin. "It will be the district attorney's decision that will govern the matter."
"Then what are you doing fooling around here, governor?" screamed Bert hoarsely. "Don't you see that it's your job to hurry to the district attorney as fast as you can go? Use your money, your political influence—-"
In his extreme terror young Dodge seemed to forget that he was providing amusement for his enemies.
But Mr. Dodge cut in quickly. Advancing a step or two, he brought his uplifted stick down sharply, once, across his son's shoulders.
With a snarl Bert wheeled, crouching as though to spring upon his father.
Prescott and Holmes jumped up, prepared to step in. But the banker was not cowed by the evil look in his son's face.
"Begone, you young villain!" quivered the old man. "Get out of my sight. Never let me see you again. Don't dare to go to what was once your home, or I'll have you thrown out. I disown you! You are no blood of mine!"