"Marry her? Of course I would. I love her more than ever. I'd give my life for her; I'd give my soul to ease the pain you have thrust upon her. But it's over between us. Don't let our affairs worry you. She has ended it. I don't blame her. How could she marry your son? Why, do you know that I have hoped that I might not be your son, after all? I almost prayed that my mother might have loved someone else instead of you. God, I'd like the pain of knowing that." Bansemer leaned heavily against the radiator, gasping for breath. Then he staggered to the couch and dropped upon it, moaning. "Graydon, Graydon! Don't say that! Don't! I'll make everything right. I'll try to undo it all! My boy, you are the only thing on earth I love. I've been heartless to all the rest of the world, but I love you. Don't turn against me." The son stood looking at him in dull wonder. His heart was touched. He had not thought that this stern man could weep; he began to see the misery that was breaking him. "Dad, don't do that," he said, starting toward him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for you." Bansemer leaped to his feet, his mood changing like a flash. "I don't want your pity. I want your love and loyalty. I didn't mean to be weak. Will you leave Chicago with me? I must go. We'll go at once--anywhere, only together. We can escape if we start now. Come!" "I won't go that way!" exclaimed Graydon. "Not like a criminal." "No? You won't?" There was no answer. "Then, there's nothing more to say. Go! Leave me alone. I had prayed that you might not have been like this. Go! I have important business to attend to at once." He cast his gaze toward the drawer in which the pistol lay. "I don't expect to see you again. Take this message to the Cables. Say that I am the only living soul who knows the names of that girl's father and mother. God alone can drag them from me." Graydon was silent, stunned, bewildered. His father was trembling before him, and he opened his lips to utter the question that meant so much if the answer came. "Don't ask me!" cried Bansemer. "You would be the last I'd tell. Marry her, and be dammed!" "I don't believe you know," cried Graydon. "Ah, you think I'll tell you?" triumphantly. "I don't want to know." He sat down, his moody gaze upon his father. Neither spoke for many minutes. Neither had the courage. James Bansemer finally started up with a quick look at the door. Droom was speaking to someone in the outer office. "Go now," he said harshly; "I want to be alone." "Father, are you--are you afraid of these charges?" His father laughed shortly and extended his hand to the young man. "Don't worry about me. They can't down James Bansemer. You may leave Chicago; I'll stay! Goodbye, Graydon!" "Good-bye, dad!" They shook hands without flinching and the young man left the room. On the threshold the father called after him: "Where do you expect to go?" "I don't know!"