TOM THORNTON was no fool, and it was easy enough for him to see that I understood the situation. It was useless for him to tell me that any tenderness on the part of my uncle saved me from arrest, for the son would have crushed me like a worm beneath his feet in spite of the father. I think he got up and left me because he could not control his temper, and feared a scene. He cooled off in a few moments, and came back, as I knew he would. "You defy me to arrest you--do you, Ernest?" said he, dropping into the seat at my side. "Yes; if you wish to put it in that form, I defy you to arrest me. I repeat that I should be very glad to have you do it." "Why so?" asked he, nervously. "It would give me a chance to defend myself, and that is just what I want, now I have the means to do so." "You have some queer conceits, young man," sneered he. "What have you done with that girl?" "She is safe." "I asked you what you had done with her." "And I didn't answer you." "What have you done with her?" "She is safe." "Running away with her is another criminal offence." "If it is, I shall fight that battle on the same ground with the other. If you choose to take me back to Parkville on any charge, of course you can do so. If you do, a certain document will be brought to light, which will convince Mrs. Loraine and everybody else, that Mr. Tom Thornton, with his gold watch and chain, his span of bays, and his fine clothes, isn't worth a dollar in the world." Tom's lip actually quivered. "I don't want to injure you, Ernest," said he. "Your uncle is not willing that you should be brought to justice." "I have no desire to bring him to justice, either." "You talk like a fool, like a small boy," said he, impatiently. "Then don't talk with me." "You will make out that you haven't done anything wrong yourself, but your friends have made a martyr of you. When I offer to get you out of the scrape into which you have plunged, you speak just as though you were the injured party." "Exactly so, and I speak just what I mean. You talk to me just as though you and your father had not suppressed my father's will, intending to rob me of my inheritance, and kept my mother in a madhouse for ten or a dozen years." "What sort of bosh are you talking now?" demanded Tom, with an effort, while his face was pale, and his frame trembled. "I can prove it all. If you and your father wish to tell me where my mother is, and to make terms you can tell me what you will do," I added, following up my advantage. "You have taken some ridiculous notion into your head, and I really don't know what you are talking about." "Did you ever read my father's will?" "Your father's will!" exclaimed he. "I never heard that he made a will. If he did, it was the most ridiculous thing he ever did in the whole course of his life, for he hadn't a penny to leave." "Perhaps you can tell me why my uncle so persistently refused to tell me anything about my father or my mother?"