Claude saw his danger, and the madman advancing upon him made him throw out his hand in self-defense. “My son is at home!” cried Lamont, senior. “You are not he. I won’t believe it!” “But, father----” The sentence was not finished, for all at once Perry Lamont sprang at his son, and grabbing him by the shoulders, threw him against the wall. There was a startled cry on the other side of it from the woman whose eyes seemed glued to the paper there. “I’ll kill you like a dog if you don’t tell me where Sis is. I went to her den--they called her Mother Flintstone, you know--but she wasn’t there. Where is she?” “Let me loose first.” “And let you run off? Not much; ha! ha!” and the maniac laughed. “I won’t do anything of the kind.” “But I can’t show you where Sis is unless you do that. I won’t run away, father.” “It is false. You can’t fool me. I will hold you here till you tell the truth.” “Well, Sis, is asleep in the room yonder.” “Is that true?” Claude Lamont wanted to gain time. If he could get rid of his father’s maddened hands he might effect his escape, for just now he was in danger. Perry Lamont glanced toward the door, and seemed disposed to believe his desperate son. But suddenly he appeared to change his mind, for again his eyes shot forth sparks of fire. “Call her out here,” he said. Claude’s heart seemed to sink within him. He knew he could not call back the dead. He wished for the door to open and admit some one; he would have rejoiced then, with his father’s fingers buried in his throat, to have seen Carter. “I’ll give you one second, or to hades you go!” suddenly cried Perry Lamont. Claude’s blood seemed to run cold. One second to live! What had become of George Richmond? Why didn’t that worthy turn up to save him in the nick of time? Why had he guided his father to that house and not home, where he would have had Opal for an ally? Fate was against him. “Quick! quick!” exclaimed the madman. “Tell me where Sis is or I will tear your throat here!” Claude made one last effort. He summoned all his strength and dashed forward. His father’s feet tripped on the carpet, and, falling, he dragged him down. Father and son fell in a heap on the carpet, and for half a second seemed stunned by the tumble. Claude was the first to recover. He raised himself and tore himself loose from the maniacal fingers. As he did so his father sprang up with the roar of a baffled tiger, and launched himself forward. It left Claude little time for reflection or action. He saw danger ahead, and his hands were bare of any weapon. But suddenly he snatched up a glass paper weight from the desk, and launched it straight at his father’s face. An arrow never went straighter to the mark than did the paper weight. It struck the millionaire fairly in the face, and he went down like a stricken ox. On the carpet he gave a convulsive gasp and moved one arm; that was all.