"It doesn't matter, father," said Graydon hoarsely. "I deserted you and I'm sorry. No matter what you've done to bring you here, I'm glad I've come to see you. I don't blame Elias. For a while I'm afraid I rather held out against coming. Now, I am glad for my own sake. I won't desert you now. I am going to work for a pardon, if your appeal does not go through." "Don't! I won't have it!" exclaimed the other. "I'm going to stay it out. It will give me time to forget, so that I can be a better man. If they let me out now I'd do something I'd always regret. I want to serve my time and start all over again. Don't worry about me. I won't hamper you. I'll go away--abroad, as Harbert suggested. Damn him, his advice was good, after all. Understand, Graydon, I do not want parole or pardon. You must not undertake it. I am guilty and I ought to be punished the same as these other fellows in here. Don't shudder. It's true. I'm no better than they." "I hate to think of you in this awful place--" began Graydon. "Don't think of me." "But, my God, I've seen you here, father," cried the son. "A pretty spectacle for a son," laughed the father bitterly. "Why did you bring that girl here? That was cruel--heartless." Graydon tried to convince him that Jane had not come to gloat but to ask a favour of him. "A favour, eh? She expects me to tell all I know about her, eh? That's good!" laughed Bansemer. "Father, she has done you no wrong. Why are you so bitter against her? It's not right--it's not like you." Bansemer looked steadily at him for a full minute. "Is she going to marry you, Graydon?" "She refuses, absolutely." "Then, she's better than I thought. Perhaps I'm wrong in hating her as I do. It's because she took you away from me. Give me time, Graydon. Some day I may tell you all I know. Don't urge me now; I can't do it now. I don't want to see her again. Don't think I'm a fool about it, boy, and don't speak of it again. Give me time." "She is the gentlest woman in the world." "You love her?" "Better than my life." "Graydon, I--I hope she will change her mind and become your wife." "You do? I don't understand." "That's why I'd rather she never could know who her parents are. The shadow is invisible now; it wouldn't help matters for her if it were visible. She's better off by not knowing. Has Droom intimated that he knows?" "He says he does not." "He lies, but at the same time he won't tell her. It's not in him to do it. God, he has served me ill to-day. He has always hated me, but he was always true to me. He did me a vile trick when he changed the cartridges in my revolver. By God, I discharged him for that. I told him to appear against me if he would. He was free to do so. But, curse him, he would not give me the satisfaction of knowing that he was a traitor. He knew I'd go over the road, anyhow. He's been waiting for this day to come. He has finally given me the unhappiest hour in my life."