Pierre knows nothing of this growing infatuation. While noticing Paul's reticence and abstraction, Pierre attributes these to the perplexities of their situation. To his father's questions about night happenings Paul becomes irresponsive, and when pressed, fiercely petulant. Pierre is much suprised at this, but is gravely patient, hoping for tractable, less capricious moods. There are occasional bursts of penitence, followed by more irresponsive, resentful silences and replies.
Pierre becomes alarmed, fearing that Paul will bring on some crisis, through these strained tempers. Refraining from further questioning, the father humors his son's strange moods, determined to keep him under careful watch. Pierre will follow Paul and note any indiscreet habits, that there may be no serious mistakes at this stage. It will not do to chide this now perverse boy, who has been so habitually and fearfully filial in the past.
Pierre begins to feel a presentiment of some ominous crisis, wherein Paul may fail him.
In degree and perverted sense Pierre Lanier loved his only son. Many dark schemes had been suggested and pressed to success, prompted by mixed motives of personal acquisition and fatherly providence. This man is not a villain from mere criminal impulse. His tastes have an elegant bent. Relentless tenacity, overpowering avarice, and dissembling craft are his cardinal traits. To these all æsthetic impulses and higher sentiments must minister.
While cruelly conscienceless in pursuit of desired ends, Pierre Lanier, unlike Paul, never permitted passion to interfere with matured or maturing plans.
Having much of his father's fastidious taste, persistent tenacity, and crafty avarice, Paul is deficient in this cold-tempered power of self-control.
Pierre is aware of this weakness. Many fatherly precepts to correct such passionate tendency had been uttered. However, this deliberate, cold-blooded man had found his son's hasty temper of service, and in emergency did not hesitate to fan its slumbering fires.
During recent years many crafty lessons had been taught and learned. From the time when Paul began to press his attentions upon Alice Webster, to present disguised straits in London suburb, this teacher and pupil had been seldom long apart. Practical demonstrations had convinced Pierre that his son was very apt.
Paul has been more reticent and absorbed; he eats little; trifles annoy him; his father's presence is offense; at Pierre's curious look or speech Paul frowns or is pertly insolent. Suddenly starting, aimlessly pausing, fiercely scowling, vacantly staring, he is again seated. Passing hatless and partially disguised up the rickety cellar stairs, he turns upon his father, resentment gleaming from those glowing black eyes, then weak and nerveless submits to restraint, abjectly penitent, mutely concurring in paternal rebuke.
Pierre finds it necessary to remain indoors when Paul is at their room. That his son is averse to this the father plainly sees. Yet such displeasure is strangely vague. There is no spoken protest.