"It is; and you will oblige me by informing me, as directly and unequivocally, _where_ she is," said he, rising from his chair. "I am sorry to disoblige you, Mr. Tom Thornton; but I must respectfully decline to give you any information on that point," I answered, firmly. "Am I to understand that you refuse to tell me where she is?" demanded he, turning up the cuff of one of his coat-sleeves. "That was the idea I intended to convey," I replied, imitating his example by rolling up one of my coat-sleeves. "You won't tell me." "No, sir." "You know where she is?" "I do." "And won't tell?" "I will not." He turned up the other coat-sleeve, and I did the same. "I'll tell you what it is, youngster, we have played this farce long enough," Tom proceeded, in a rage. "I want you to understand that I am not to be trifled with. You may make a fool of the old man, but you can't make a fool of me." "Perhaps nature has already done that kindly act for you," I put in, as he paused to take a long breath with which to whet his wrath. I know, now, that it was wrong for me to make these saucy and irritating replies; but I could not well help it then. Tom Thornton was a villain, by his own confession. My uncle had declared that he had stained his soul with crime for his son's sake. Whichever was the greater villain, it was clear that the son was the more obdurate, graceless, and unrepentant of the two. I had no patience with him. I had no respect for him, and I certainly had no fear of him. Even policy would not permit me to treat him with a consideration I did not feel. "For your insults we will settle by and by; at present my business relates to this girl," said he, smarting under my charge. "Well, Mr. Tom Thornton, so far as Miss Loraine is concerned, your business with me is finished," I replied. "Not yet; before I have done you will be glad to tell me where the girl is." "I will tell you nothing in regard to her." "I command you to tell me where she is." "You may command, if you choose." "And I will be obeyed," said he, furiously. "You will see whether you are or not." "Who are you, young man, that have the impudence to enter the house of a lady, and entice away her daughter?" foamed he. "I am Ernest Thornton. I did not enter the house after you rode off with the lady; I did not entice the girl away, and she is not the lady's daughter." "Silence! Don't you contradict me. You ran away with the girl!" I whistled a popular air, simply to prove that I was not intimidated, and that Tom was not getting along very rapidly. "Once more, and for the last time," roared Tom, foaming with passion, "will you tell me where the girl is, or will you take the consequences?" "If it's all the same to you, I'll take the consequences," I answered. "Very well; you will take them, or you will tell me the whole truth," said he, savagely, as he rushed to the door.