“How are you going to prevent me, you young whippersnapper?” he said, glaring menacingly at Grant.
“Mr. Willis Ford, unless you leave this room and this town at once,” said Grant, firmly, “I will have you arrested. There is a local officer below whom I brought with me, suspecting your object in coming here.”
“Oh, Grant, how glad I am to see you! Is papa with you?” exclaimed Herbert, overjoyed.
“I will tell you about it soon, Herbert.”
“You won't let him take me away?”
“There is no danger of that,” said Grant, reassuringly. “I shall take you home to New York as soon as this good lady says you are well enough to go.”
Ford stood gnawing his nether lip. If it had been Mr. Reynolds, he would not have minded so much; but for a mere boy, like Grant Thornton, to talk with such a calm air of superiority angered him.
“Boy,” he said, “it sounds well for you to talk of arrest—you who stole my aunt's bonds, and are indebted to her forbearance for not being at this moment in State's prison.”
“Your malicious charge does not affect me, Mr. Ford,” returned Grant. “It was proved before you left New York that you were the thief, and even your stepmother must have admitted it. Mr. Reynolds discharged you from his employment, and this is the mean revenge you have taken—the abduction of his only son.”
“I will do you an injury yet, you impudent boy,” said Ford, furiously.