He paused and took a step toward him. He was a different man when he continued. It seemed as though some resistance in him was breaking down, as though the years of repression were falling away. A hot, dull red had come into his cheeks, and burned there like a fever. His whole body trembled, shaken by some emotion which I could not fathom. His voice grew sharp and discordant, his words hot and triumphant.
"Almost as pasty as when you challenged me to produce those damned bales of fur. Do you remember, Jason? The party here at this house—the music, the flowers? Oh, they were all there! And of course I had put the shavings on my boat. You could prove it, and you could too, Lawton, do you remember? And you could swear to it, and you could swear I had cheated you before, that I had stolen your card money. Oh, you caught me. You brought the wolf to bay and drew the sword of justice!"
Mr. Lawton half started from his seat.
"Be still, Shelton," he snapped, "or I'll have them gag you."
My father clenched his fist, drew a deep breath, and his voice lost its strident note.
"Ah, Lawton, Lawton," he said. "Will you always be impetuous? Will you never be subtle, but always crude, always the true rough diamond with the keen edge? No, you won't gag me, Lawton.
"And so you will send me to France, Jason, and my son too, criminals to justice. It is thoughtful of you to think of justice, but tell me, Jason. Is it I you hate, or my wife's money that you love? Tell me, Jason, I have often wondered."
My uncle's face also became a flaming red; the veins stood out on his temples. He tried to speak, but his words choked him.
"Sims," shouted Mr. Lawton. "Sims! Take him out! Take him away!"
My father raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed.