--and on the production of that small book bound in
red leather which disappeared from my brother-in-law's
desk the afternoon of his death.''

A wave of rage and fear surged up within Frank
Gower and crashed against the seat of his life. For
days thereafter he was from time to time seized with
violent spasms of trembling; years afterward he was
attributing premature weaknesses of old age to the
effects of that moment of horror. His uncle's words
came as a sudden, high shot climax to weeks of
exasperating peeping and prying and questioning, of
sneer and insinuation. Conover had been only moderately
successful at the law, had lost clients to Frank's
father, had been beaten when they were on opposite
sides. He hated the father with the secret, hypocritical
hatred of the highly moral and religious man. He de-
spised the son. It is not often that a Christian gentleman
has such an opportunity to combine justice and
revenge, to feed to bursting an ancient grudge, the
while conscious that he is but doing his duty.

Said Frank, when he was able to speak: ``You have
been listening to the lies of some treacherous clerk
here.''

``Don't destroy that little book,'' proceeded Conover
tranquilly. ``We can prove that you took it.''

Young Gower rose. ``I must decline to have anything