With no clue as to what it all meant, I only knew that here was an enraged man, beside himself, and that his son, though in danger of being choked to death, was defying him, standing out about something he had been accused of. I took no time for thought, but, feeling exultantly, “Here, I have some power over him--now I can expiate my wrong,” rushed between the struggling father and son, tearing at the man’s fingers as they clasped the boy’s neck. He tried to push me away, looking as though he only half realized who I was; but, pulling at him, I interfered with all my strength, calling to him. Presently he warned me: “Doctor, get away if you don’t want me to hurt you, too--I warn you--I will not be thwarted--he _shall_ confess.” But I felt I must save the boy; must exert to the full my influence over this enraged man. I don’t know what followed, or just what I did, except that we three were being dragged around the table, and that I kept my hands on those powerful hands that were grasping the boy’s throat; and soon I stood looking into the eyes of that crazed creature for what seemed an eternity--it was probably only a few seconds--all the force of my being bent on making him relax his hold. Gradually I felt his fingers loosen, his eyes ceased to glare with that lurid rage, and at last his hands dropped limp; the boy was freed, and the man and I confronted each other in breathless silence. “Thank God! Thank God!” hysterically cried the mother, while the older boy tried to hush her cry. But the calm was of short duration. A second rage succeeded the first. At the thought that I had seen this exhibition of his wrath, and that further concealment was futile, he sprang at the boy again. Tommy ran round the table. I sprang again at the father, and a second contest took place. I can only remember clinging to his hands, and holding his gaze, and hearing the frightened woman scream to me to be careful, or he would attack me as he had attacked Tom. How the storm subsided I cannot recall, except that he gradually got control of himself, though the looks he cast at the boys showed that his rage was only sleeping. His remarks to me were to the effect that the game was up; I would loathe him now; I may as well know him now as they knew him, and, though I had prevented him from carrying out his threats, he would know the truth yet--he would wait till to-morrow--but punish those boys he would, and I need not think I could prevent it. Then he left the house. We breathed freer after he was gone, but looked at one another in dismay, feeling it was only a lull in the storm. They depended on me for help, but how was I to help them? It seems that evening at the “Gym,” he had seen the boys hobnobbing with some others whose habits he had warned them against; he thought they acted guilty when he came upon them, and had been awaiting their return home to confront them with his suspicions. Their denial had enraged him, hence the terrible scene.