The boy again pressed his hand tenderly and rose, drawing his father to his feet:

"I'm sorry to have hurt you, Dad. I'm sorry that we have to go—good-by!"

He turned and slowly moved toward the door. Norton slipped his right hand quickly to the revolver, hesitated, his fingers relaxed and the deadly thing dropped back into his pocket as he sank to his seat with a groan:

"Wait! Wait, Tom!"

The boy stopped.

"I—I've got to tell it to you now!" he went on hoarsely. "I—I tried to save you this horror—but I couldn't—the way was too hard and cruel."

Tom took a step and looked up in surprise:

"The way—what way?"

"I couldn't do it," the father cried. "I just couldn't—and so I have to tell you."

The boy spoke with sharp eagerness: