"That depends," answered grandpa suavely. "You've got to behave yourself. Now, then, let us repair to the secret chamber of finance. It is the day of settlement," grimly.
Mrs. Cavenaugh was gently weeping. The dread moment had come, come when she had been lulled into the belief that it would never come. Kate understood, and longed to go to her and comfort her; and she trembled for her father, who knew nothing of the pit that lay at his feet. Carrington dallied with his fork; he wished he was anywhere in the world but at the Cavenaugh table. The desire to laugh recurred to him, but he realized that the inclination was only hysterical.
Cavenaugh was already heading for the study. He was in a fine rage. Grandpa was close on his heels. At the threshold he turned once more to Carrington.
"You know your Tempest, young man, I'm sure," he said. "Well, this is the revolt of Caliban—Caliban uplifted, as it were."
The door closed behind them, and father and son faced each other.
"I'll trouble you for those papers you took from the safe last night," said the son heavily.
"Ah, indeed!" said grandpa.
"At once; I have reached the limit of my patience."
"So have I," returned grandpa. "Perhaps you know what these papers are about?"
"I know nothing whatever, save that they belong to Mr. Carrington. Hand them over."