Alex stood silent; then suddenly he struck the table with his fist: "My God! I believe you've been lending money to that--to that--" Mr. Gordon began to shake very much. "Did Dr. Lavendar presume to ask you to lend money to--to--" Mr. Gordon passed his hand over his lips; then he said, faintly, "No; he didn't." Alex, like a boat brought suddenly up into the wind, stammered uncertainly. "Oh; I--I--thought--" And then suspicion broke out again. "Has the creature asked you for a loan?" "No," Mr. Gordon said. And Alex gaped at him, silenced. Yet he was certain that that strip of paper had some connection with Algernon Keen. "I beg your pardon," he said; "I thought for an instant that you were dickering with the man who seduced your daughter. I am sure I beg your pardon for the thought," he ended, with elaborate and ironical courtesy, for his father's obvious agitation assured him that he was right. "I only felt that if it was his note, it must be kept carefully--carefully." He smiled in a deadly way he had, and opened and shut his hand as though he would close it on the hilt of a knife. "But, of course, I was mistaken. You would press it if you had his note--although 'sue a beggar.' And, besides, if we had got as far as lending him money, we would be asking him to dinner next." Mr. Gordon cringed. "So I beg your pardon," Alex ended, sardonically. "Very well--very well," his father said; and got up and began to potter about among his books, as much as to say that the subject was ended. "It _is_ a note," Alex said to himself, and smiled.... So far the creature had gone scot-free. In these days of lawfully accepted dishonor revenge is not talked about. But perhaps it would come to his hand. Not the revenge of the instincts--not the shedding of blood, man fashion; but the revenge of inflicting misery. Not much of a revenge, of course, but the best that he could get. And so he smiled to himself.... He said no more at the time; but months later his father realized that the incident was not forgotten when Alex said, suddenly, sneering: "So your son-in-law is prospering in his business? I saw his establishment to-day in Mercer. If he owes you any money he will be able to pay cash. I congratulate you, sir." Old Mr. Gordon made no reply. He was very feeble that autumn. Willy King told Alex that another attack of bronchitis would be the end. "He can't stand it," said Dr. King. "I'd take him South, Alex, if I were you." Alex did not like to leave his mill in Upper Chester, but, as he told Willy, he was a good son, and always did his duty to his father. "I play dominoes with him every night," he said;--so he would take the old man South, though to go and come would keep him from business almost a week.