Fathers and sons -- Fiction; Political fiction; West (U.S.) -- Fiction
"--But women have no conscience," she finished for him. "_I_ hadn't in
this instance. There was too much at stake with a firebrand like Evan to
deal with. Don't be too good-natured, David--to-night, I mean. You know
that is your failing when you have a man down. But to-night you must
make the man pay the price. That's all, I think. I'm going back to Evan
now to see if I can't make him talk to me. That is the one thing I have
seldom been able to do thus far."
If Blount was a little surprised when the small plotter came back to
take the chair recently vacated by his father, he was generous enough
not to show it. The huge sense of relief was still with him, and its
mellowing influence made him smile leniently when she said: "I want to
be reasoned with, Evan. I have just let your father persuade me that a
certain thing he is about to do is perfectly safe, when I am afraid it
isn't."
"Since he is undertaking to do it, it's safe enough, you may be sure,"
he replied at random.
"Then you know what it is?"
"Oh, no; he didn't tell me where he was going. But on general
principles, you know, I think he can be trusted to take care of himself.
He is a many-sided man, Mrs. Blount. You are his wife, but I have
sometimes found myself wondering if, after all, you know him as he
really is."
"Perhaps I don't," she agreed readily enough. "But I do know his
absolute fearlessness, at least. That's why I'm a little nervous just
now."
Blount took the alarm at once, as she hoped he would.
"You mean that he is really going into danger of some sort?" he
demanded.
She nodded. "He is going to meet a man who is--well, he is a big man
with many of the same qualities that your father has. But down at the
very bottom of him there is a quality that even your father doesn't
suspect. Have you ever seen a cornered rat, Evan?"
Blount had got upon his feet and was buttoning his coat.
"I don't know how much or how little you know about what has taken place
this afternoon, Mrs. Blount," he broke out hastily, "but I can tell you
this much: I am my father's son now, whatever I have been in the past,
and if he is in danger, my place is with him. Tell me where he has
gone."
The little lady's eyes were demurely downcast. "I shouldn't dare tell
you that, but--but perhaps I might show you. I didn't promise not
to--not to follow him," she returned with exactly the proper shade of
half-frightened reluctance.
"Is it far?" he asked.
"Y-yes; we should have to drive."
"Excuse me for a minute or two," he said abruptly, and, making a bolt
for the elevator, he was back almost within the limit named with a
top-coat for himself and a driving-wrap for his companion. "I broke into
your suite and made Patricia give me the wrap," he explained. "If it
isn't what you want, I'll try again."
"It will do nicely," she told him; and together they went down the broad
marble stair to the ground-floor.
"Do we take a cab?" he asked, when they reached the sidewalk.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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