"Why should I know you?" Paul demanded. "Because I am your father, Alain," the man said. For a minute Flip thought Paul was going to fall. All the color drained from his face and if he had not been holding on to Flip's arm he could not have remained standing. "No," he said. "No. You are not my father." And his voice came out as hoarse and strange as Flip's had on the morning she woke up with laryngitis. "I know it's a surprise to you," the man said. "You are happy where you are and you don't want to remember the past. But surely you must remember your own father, Alain." "You are not my father," Paul repeated firmly. Now the man came a step closer and Flip felt as though she were going to be sick from distaste and loathing of him. She put her arm firmly about Paul. "If Paul says you aren't his father that's that. Good-bye." The man smiled, and when he smiled his face seemed even more frightening than when he was serious. "Perhaps you're thinking that I'm a shabby sort of person to be your father, Alain; but if I'm shabby it's because of the months and years I've spent searching for you." "How did you find me?" Paul asked, and his voice was faint. "I heard that a child answering to my lost son's description might be in a boarding school in Switzerland. You can imagine the months I've spent searching all the Swiss schools. I have spent hours watching the boys in the school up the mountain. I even looked at the girls' school down the mountain, hoping perhaps to come across someone who might have known you. That is when I first saw this young lady here." He nodded at Flip. "Why did you tell me you were going to tend the furnace?" Flip asked. "I couldn't very well tell you I was looking for a lost boy, could I? Then I saw Paul, as he is now called, and I knew that my search had come to an end. I've been watching you from a distance to make sure, but now there's no doubt in my mind that you're my son Alain." He opened his arms as though he expected Paul to run into them, but Paul clutched Flip even tighter. "You are not my father," he said again, and Flip could feel him trembling all over. She herself was shaking and she felt very cold as she stood there in the snow with her arms about Paul. "Go away!" Paul cried. "You're playing a horrible trick on me." "I don't want to hurry you, Alain," the man said. "I know this must be a great shock to you. But remember that you have found not a stranger but a father who will love and protect you. Why don't you take me home to Monsieur Laurens and we'll talk it over with him?" "No," Paul said. "You mustn't see my father." "But why not, Alain?" "My father is working. You mustn't disturb him." "But about something so important, Alain?" "No," Paul reiterated. "You mustn't see my father." "Alain," the man said. "Suppose I could prove to you that I was your father?" "How could you prove it? You're not my father. Stop calling me Alain."