His tone was not nearly so benevolent. Opposition, as always, was rousing Anthony's unfortunate stubbornness; with or without reason, had David but known it, every mention of that cap and coat was diminishing his chances of walking out of the Lasande--and it is possible that he sensed something of the kind, for his smile disappeared abruptly, and the assurance that had been with him was no more. "I can't tell you where I live!" he said hoarsely. "In the name of heaven, why not?" Anthony snapped. "Because--because--well, you may not understand this, sir, but I promised father I wouldn't tell any one where we live." "What?" "I did, and I can't break a promise!" David insisted. "You see, father was rich once, and he's terribly proud. He doesn't want any one to know we live in such a poor place, because somebody he used to know might hear of it and try to help him, and that would break father's heart." "His heart's in pretty bad shape, isn't it?" Johnson Boller muttered. "Frightful!" said David. "And that's why I'll have to go now and explain to him and think it all over and----" "Why think it over?" Anthony rasped. "Isn't your mind made up now?" "Of course it is," the boy said hastily. "Only I'll have to tell father and then come back here in the morning, Mr. Fry; only--_I have, to go home now_!" His voice broke strangely. Anthony Fry looked him over with a quantity of sour curiosity. If the golden opportunity before his very eyes was making even the trace of an impression on David Prentiss, the boy's faculty for masking his true emotions was downright amazing. That bright, rather attractive young countenance told of absolutely nothing but the heartfelt desire to escape from the gentleman who wished to improve his condition. It was the same old story, world-old and world-wide. David, once he was out of this apartment, would never return; with opportunity fairly pushing against him, he turned from her in terror, refusing to know that she was there. Well, then, he _should_ see her! Anthony's square chin set. He rose with a jerk and stood surveying the nervous David, a tall, commanding, rather fearsome figure. Some little time he transfixed the lad with his cold, hard eyes, while David grew paler and paler; then he walked down upon David, who cringed visibly, and seized his shoulders. "David," he said sternly, "you have no conception at all of what I am trying to offer you. I'm going to keep you here until you have." "Keep me--here?" David faltered. "Just that." It was in Johnson Boller's mind to rise and deliver a little speech of his own, pointing out the legal rights of David Prentiss and the chance that, at some later date, interested parties might hear of this evening and use it in moving Anthony toward an insane asylum. Yet he did not speak, for he grew interested in David himself.