The sternness of the answer blocked any possible reply.
Amid the silence of the room one could almost hear the heart-beats of the waiting throng.
Then some one in the crowd made his way to the front of the room and faced the president.
It was Peter Strong.
As Mr. Coddington’s gaze fell on his son he started.
The boy stood erect and looked his father squarely in the eye.
“May I speak, sir?”
Mr. Coddington bowed.
Peter began gently, respectfully, and his words were without defiance.