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‘That I have, Mr. Daffy; that I have!’ cried Bowles.

‘There’s not much fear that he‘ll fall into your clutches again. And I hope, I most earnestly hope, that before you can do much more harm, you’ll overreach yourself, and the law–stupid as it is–will get hold of you. Remember the father I was, Charles, and think what it means that the best wish I can now form for you is that you may come to public disgrace.’

‘Does no one applaud?’ asked Charles, looking round the room. ‘That’s rather unkind, seeing how the speaker has blown himself. Be off, dad, and don’t fool any longer. Bowles, take your hook. Mr. Lott–‘

Charles met the eye of the timber-merchant, and was unexpectedly mute.

‘Well, sir,’ said Mr. Lott, regarding him fixedly, ‘and what have you to say to me?‘

‘Only that my time is too valuable to be wasted,’ continued the other, with an impatient gesture. ‘Be good enough to leave my house.’

‘Mr. Lott,’ said the tailor in an exhausted voice, ‘I apologise to you for my son’s rudeness. I gave you the trouble of coming here hoping it might shame him, but I’m afraid it’s been no good. Let us go.’

Mr. Lott regarded him mildly.

‘Mr. Daffy,’ he said, ‘if you don’t mind, I should like to have a word in private with your son. Do you and Mr. Bowles go on to the station, and wait for me; perhaps I shall catch you up before you get there.’

‘I have told you already, Mr. Lott,’ shouted Charles, ‘that I can waste no more time on you. I refuse to talk with you at all.’

‘And I, Mr. Charles Daffy,’ was the resolute answer, ‘refuse to leave this room till I have had a word with you.’

‘What do you want to say?’ asked Charles brutally.

‘Just to let you know an idea of mine,’ was the reply, ‘an idea that’s come to me whilst I’ve stood here listening.’

The tailor and Mr. Bowles moved towards the door. Charles glanced at them fiercely and insolently, then turned his look again upon the man who remained. The other two passed out; the door closed. Mr. Lott, stick and riding-whip still held horizontally, seemed to be lost in meditation.

‘Now,’ blurted Charles, ‘what is it?’

Mr. Lott regarded him steadily, and spoke with his wonted deliberation.

‘You heard what your father said about paying that money back?’

‘Of course I heard. If he’s idiot enough–‘

‘Do you know my idea, young man? You’d better do the honest thing, and repay it yourself.’

Charles stared for a moment, then sputtered a laugh.

‘That’s your idea, is it, Mr. Lott? Well, it isn’t mine. So, good morning!’

Again the timber-merchant seemed to meditate; his eyes wandered from Charles to the dining-room table.

‘Just a minute more,’ he resumed; ‘I have another idea–not a new one; an idea that came to me long ago, when your father first began to have trouble about you. I happened to be in the shop one day–it was when you were living idle at your father’s expense, young man–and I heard you speak to him in what I call a confoundedly impertinent way. Thinking it over afterwards, I said to myself: If I had a son who spoke to me like that, I’d give him the soundest thrashing he’d be ever likely to get. That was my idea, young man; and as I stood listening to you to-day, it came back into my mind again. Your father can’t thrash you; he hasn’t the brawn for it. But as it’s nothing less than a public duty, somebody must, and so–‘

Charles, who had been watching every movement of the speaker’s face, suddenly sprang forward, making for the door. But Mr. Lott had foreseen this; with astonishing alertness and vigour he intercepted the fugitive seized him by the scruff of the neck, and, after a moment’s struggle, pinned him face downwards across the end of the table. His stick he had thrown aside; the riding-whip he held between his teeth. So brief was this conflict that there sounded only a scuffling of feet on the floor, and a growl of fury from Charles as he found himself handled like an infant; then, during some two minutes, one might have thought that a couple of very strenuous carpet-beaters were at work in the room. For the space of a dozen switches Charles strove frantically with wild kicks, which wounded only the air, but all in silence; gripped only the more tightly, he at length uttered a yell of pain, followed by curses hot and swift. Still the carpet-beaters seemed to be at work, and more vigorously than ever. Charles began to roar. As it happened, there were only servants in the house. When the clamour had lasted long enough to be really alarming, knocks sounded at the door, which at length was thrown open, and the startled face of a domestic appeared. At the same moment Mr. Lott, his right arm being weary, brought the castigatory exercise to an end. Charles rolled to his feet, and began to strike out furiously with both fists.