“Let us have no more of this--you will stay here because I wish it. I like to have you here--father and son--father and son.” He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder--“Never mention this again for your own sake--you will stay here until I wish you to go.” But Peter broke free. “I _will_ go,” he shouted--“I _will_ go--you _shall_ not keep me here. I have a right to my freedom--what have you ever done for me that I should obey you? I want to leave you and never see you again. I ...” And then his eyes fell--his legs were shaking. His father was watching him, no movement in his short thick body--Peter's voice faltered--“I _will_ go,” he said sullenly, his eyes on the ground. His grandfather stirred in his sleep. “Oh, what a noise,” he muttered, “with the rain and all.” But Mr. Westcott removed with a careful hand the melodrama that his young son had flung about the room. “That's enough noise,” he said, “you will _not_ go to London--nor indeed anywhere else--and for your own peace of mind I should advise you not to mention the subject again. The hour is a little early but I recommend your bedroom.” Peter went. He was trembling from head to foot. Why? He undressed and prepared himself for battle. Battle it was to be, for the Wednesday in Easter week would find him in the London train--of that there was to be no question. Meanwhile, with the candle blown out, and no moon across the floor, it was quite certain that courage would be necessary. He was fighting more than his father. V He woke suddenly. A little wind, blowing through the open door flickered the light of a candle that flung a dim circle about the floor. Within the circle was his father--black clothes and white face, he was looking with the candle held high, across the room to the bed. He drew back the candle and closed the door softly behind him. His feet made no sound as they passed away down the passage. Peter lay quaking, wide eyed in his bed, until full morning and time for getting up. The opening, certainly, of a campaign. CHAPTER X SUNLIGHT, LIMELIGHT, DAYLIGHT I Easter fell early that year; the last days of March held its festival and the winds and rains of that blustering month attended the birth of its primroses. Young Peter spent his days in preparation for the swift coming of Easter Wednesday and in varying moods of exultation, terror, industry and idleness. He did not see Mr. Zanti during this period--that gentleman was, he was informed, away on business--and it was characteristic of him that he asked Zachary Tan no questions whether of the mysterious bookshop, of London generally, or of any possible news about Stephen, the latter a secret that he was convinced the dark little curiosity shop somewhere contained.