The man's face was lighted with a brilliant crimson. His eyes glittered with excitement.
He arose from his chair and stood over the boy, one hand resting upon the table, the other upon the back of Lowell's chair.
The boy lifted his eyes to the thrilling face, and very slowly arose to his feet.
[CHAPTER XV.]
For a full minute Neil Lowell and Lynde Pyne stood there facing each other, each seeming to measure the other's strength, not physically, but mentally.
Neil was striving to decide what course it would be safest for him to pursue; then, seeming to have arrived at a definite conclusion, he stepped back a pace, his eyes growing colder.
"What I know of Miss Evelyn Chandler," he said, frigidly, "is my own concern, and there is no reason why I should make it known to you or to any one else, unless it is my desire so to do. I have made no charges either for or against her, and I deny your right to question me upon that or any other subject."
Pyne threw out his hand with a deprecatory gesture.
"I did not ask my question in the spirit that you seem to ascribe to me," he replied, without anger; "the expression of your face, when these family affairs were spoken of, was such as to give birth to suspicion. I do not demand that you answer me; I simply request it."