Part 26 (2/2)

”Don't act like a baby!” Clare came to him, and gave him a smart slap on the shoulder. ”Cut it out! You haven't done anything.”

”Just a moment,” interrupted Farvel. He shoved her out of the way as impersonally as he had the chair. Then, ”What do you mean by 'What'll do'?” he demanded. And to Clare, pulling at his arm, ”Let me alone, I tell you. I'm going to know what's back of this!--_Wallace Milo_!”

Slowly Wallace got up. His cheeks were wet. His mouth was distorted, like the mouth of a woeful small boy. His throat worked spasmodically, so that the cords stood out above his collar.

Clare defended him fiercely. ”What've you got into your head?” she asked Farvel. ”You're wrong! You're dead wrong!--Wallace, tell him he's wrong!”

Wallace shook his head. ”No,” he said, striving to speak evenly; ”no, I won't. All these years I've suffered, too. I've wanted to make a clean breast of it a million times--to get it off my conscience. Now, I can. I”--he braced himself to go on--”I was at the Rectory so much, Alan. I think that's how--it started. And--and she was nice to me, and I--I liked her. And we were almost the same age. So----” He could go no further. With a gesture of agonized appeal, he sank to his knees. ”Oh, Alan, forgive me!” he sobbed. ”Forgive----”

There could be no doubt of his meaning--of the character of his confession. Farvel bent over him, seizing an arm. ”Get on your feet!”

he shouted. ”Get up! Get up, I tell you! I'm going to knock you down!”

”Oh, help! Help!” wept Mrs. Milo, appealing to Balcome, who came forward promptly.

”Farvel!” he admonished. He got between the two men.

Clare was dragging at Farvel. ”Blame me!” she cried. ”I was older!

Blame me!”

Farvel pushed her aside. ”Don't try to s.h.i.+eld him!” he answered.

”He's a dog! A dog!”

A loud voice sounded from the hall. It was Tottie, storming virtuously. ”I won't have it!” she cried. ”This is my house, and I won't have it!”

Another voice pleaded with her--”Now wait! Please!”

”I'm goin' in there,” a.s.serted the landlady. She came pounding against the hall door, opened it, and entered, her bobbed hair lifting and falling with the rush of her coming. ”Say! What do you call this, anyhow?” she demanded, shaking off the hand with which Sue was attempting to restrain her.

”Keep out of here,” ordered Balcome, advancing upon her boldly.

She met him without flinching. ”I won't have no knock-down and drag-out in my house!” she declared. ”This is a respectable----”

”Oh, I'm used to tantrums,” he retorted. And without more ado, he forced Miss St. Clair backward into the hall, followed her, and shut himself as well as her out of the room.

”I'll have you arrested for this!” she shrilled.

”Oh, shut up!”

Their voices mingled, and became less audible.

”You can't blame her,” said Sue. ”Really, from out there, it sounded suspiciously like murder.” She stared at her brother. He was not kneeling now, but half-sitting, half-lying, in an awkward sprawl, at Farvel's feet, much as if he had thrown himself down in a fit of temper.

Farvel turned to her. His face was set. His eyes were dull, as if a glaze was spread upon them. His hands twitched. But he spoke quietly.

”Get this man out of here,” he directed, ”or I _shall_ kill him.”

”Oh, go! Go!” pleaded Mrs. Milo.

<script>