Robbie turned to his son. “Lanny, is this story true?”
The next few moments were uncomfortable for the younger man. He had never lied to his father in his life. Was he going to do it now? Or was he going to “throw down” his Uncle Jesse, who had come to his rescue at real danger to himself — and who had invented such a beautiful story? There is an old saying that what you don't know won't hurt you; but Lanny had been taught a different moral code — that you mustn't ever lie except when you are selling munitions.
Great was the youth's relief when his uncle saved him from this predicament. “One moment, Robbie,” he put in. “I didn't say that story was true.”
“Oh, you didn't?”
“I said I would tell you what I told the commissaire.”
The father frowned angrily. “I am in no mood for jokes!” he exclaimed. “Am I to know about this business, or am I not? Lanny, will you kindly tell me?”
“Yes, Robbie,” replied the youth. “The truth is —”
“The fault is entirely mine,” broke in Uncle Jesse. “I brought Lanny those papers for a purpose of my own.”
“He is going to try to take the blame on himself,” objected Lanny. “I assure you — ”
“He can't tell you the real story, because he doesn't know it!” argued the painter.