"And there is a good joke on me, weaving in and out of all this. I regularly invested half my allowance in buying shares in my son's company, to insure my old age. It jarred me when I read the truth last night. I hate to be outwitted. Henry, sit down; you make me nervous."
"Well, what are you going to do?" asked the son. As he faced his father there was something lion-like in his expression.
"Sit down, my son, and I will tell you," answered the old man quietly. He knew that his son was a fighter, and that to win he would have to strike quick and hard.
Cavenaugh flung himself into his chair. At that moment he did not know which he hated the most, his father or Carrington.
"First, you will write out that check for fifty thousand."
"Blackmail!"
"Nothing of the sort. For twenty years you have kept your heel on my neck. I could do nothing; opportunities came and I dared not grasp them; my genuine ability was allowed to rust. It is simply compensation. Blackmail? I think not. I could easily force a million from you. But I am and have been for years an honest man. And heaven knows how well I have paid for my early transgression," bitterly. "This hour is mine, and I propose to use it."
"What guaranty have I of your good faith?" fiercely.
"My word," calmly. "I have never yet broken it."
Carrington gazed longingly toward the door. It was horribly embarrassing. He began to realize that Kate's father would hate him bitterly indeed, and that his own happiness looked very remote.