Hot words were on Frederic's lips. Brood held up his hand, and there was in the gesture a command that silenced the young man. He was somewhat shocked to find that he still recognised the other's right to command. The older man went quickly to the door of the Hindu's closet. He rapped on the panel, and in an instant the door was opened. Ranjab stepped out and quickly closed the door behind him. A few words, spoken in lowered tones and in the language of the East, passed between master and man. Frederic turned his back to them. Moved by a sudden impulse, he strode to the window and pulled the curtains apart. A swift glance upward showed him the drawn shades in Lydia's bedroom windows. Somehow he was glad that she was asleep. An impulse as strong as the other ordered him to shift his glance downward to the little balcony outside of Yvonne's windows. Then he heard the door close softly behind him and turned to face his father. They were alone in the room. He squared his shoulders. “I suppose you think I am in love with her,” he said defiantly. He waited a moment for the response that did not come. Brood was regarding him with eyes from which every spark of compassion had disappeared. “Well, it may interest you to know that I intend to marry Lydia this very day.” Brood advanced a few steps toward him. In the subdued light of the room his features were not clearly distinguishable. His face was gray and shadowy; only the eyes were sharply defined. They glowed like points of light, unflickering. “I shall be sorry for Lydia,” he said levelly. “You needn't be,” said Frederic hotly. “She understands everything.” “You were born to be dishonest in love.” “What do you mean by that?” “It is my purpose to tell you precisely what I mean. Lydia understands far more than you think. If she marries you it will be with her eyes open; she will have no one to blame but herself for the mistake.” “Oh, I haven't tried to deceive her as to my prospects. She knows how poor we will be at the------” “Does she know that this love you profess for her is at the very outset disloyal?” Frederic was silent for a moment. A twinge shot through his heart. “She understands everything,” he repeated stubbornly. “Have you lied to her?” “Lied? You'd better be careful how you------” “Have you told her that you love her and no one else?” “Certainly!” “Then you _have_ lied to her.” There was silence--tense silence. “Do you expect me to strike you for that?” came at last from Frederic's lips, low and menacing. “You have always considered yourself to be my son, haven't you?” pursued Brood deliberately. “Can you say to me that you have behaved of late as a son should------”