For a little while his brain seemed to swim, and the lights blinded him. He did not ask what Opal would do now that she was again the sole occupant of the house. He did not seem to care. Perry Lamont was a runaway, with a great secret at his tongue’s end and millions at stake. For some time the old nabob had been subject to strange spells of mania, and the worst was to be feared. It was this that urged Claude Lamont on and on. He could not wait till he got downtown, and minutes seemed hours to him. He thought of a thousand things. He wondered what had become of Carter, and more than once he looked back, as if he expected to see Nick on his trail. At a fashionable saloon he stopped long enough to gulp down something for his nerves, and then he hastened on again. Suddenly he stopped, and then dropped into the shadow of a large building. A man was crossing the street--coming toward him. His heart took a great leap into his throat, for it was the very man he was hunting for--his father. Claude stood in the shadows and watched him like a hawk. He could not take his eyes off the old man, and as he neared him he debated in his mind what to do. As the millionaire stepped upon the sidewalk within a few feet of him the son darted forward and clutched him by the arm. “Father!” he cried. With a powerful effort Perry Lamont shook the grip loose and looked into Claude’s face. “My God! he’s mad!” ejaculated the young man. “It is Claude. Don’t you know me?” pleaded the son. “Let me go. I’ve been looking after my sister--little Sis, you know.” “Heavens! he means Mother Flintstone!” thought Claude. “I can’t find her. What’s become of Sis?” “I’ll find her for you.” “What; you’ll show me where she is?” cried the old man. “Yes, yes. Come with me.” In an instant Lamont’s mind changed, and he became as docile as a lamb. As Claude was near the house he occupied when not at home he guided his father thither and let him inside. Conducting him to the library, where he had just had an interview with George Richmond, he seated his parent and took a chair himself. “Is she here?” asked Lamont. “Yes; you’ll see her presently.” “But I can’t wait. I want to see Sis now. I haven’t seen her for years, and I want to tell her about the money I have kept for her so long.” “What money?” “I’ve kept it for Sis. It belongs to her--the thousands which were left to her, you know.” “What if Sis isn’t in need of money?” queried Claude. “Then I’ll throw it into the fire! No one shall have it but her. I will see to that. Who are you?” Claude smiled grimly. His father had not recognized him. “Come, you don’t want Sis to have the money,” he cried, and before the son could prevent, the other was on his feet, his eyes glaring like the orbs of a wolf. “I’ll have your blood if you don’t tell me!” shrieked the mad millionaire. “I’m your son.” “No, you’re not! My son? It’s a lie!”