"The inquest is adjourned until to-morrow morning at 9 o'clock."
"You know why I did not answer Coroner Lord's question. I am tired of this hypocrisy. I simply will not go on the stand again—and that settles it!"
Within the richly furnished library of Cyrus Felton's home the inquisition so abruptly broken off by Coroner Lord has been resumed.
The president of the Raymond National Bank now bears little resemblance to the bowed old man who, with trembling lips and pallid brow, testified regarding the murder of Cashier Hathaway a few hours before. There is an angry flush upon his face and a stern setting of the chin that causes one straight line to mark the location of his lips.
At the last defiant words of his son a spasm as of sudden pain for a moment distorts his patriarchal face, and his hand involuntarily presses his heart.
"I am going to leave Raymond—at once—to-night. Leave as Derrick Ames left," continued Ralph Felton, with an imprecation. "It's no use talking. My mind is made up and you should be the last man to urge me to remain. You know"
"Ralph, this is madness," interrupts his father. "There can be no necessity for your leaving town, least of all while matters are as they are. The bank"
"The bank needs both of us—I don't think," rejoins the younger man flippantly. "As the boodle is gone I guess you can get along without a bookkeeper for a time—maybe forever. But go I shall, and money I must have. Oh, I know what you are going to say," as Mr. Felton opens his lips. "It doesn't make any difference where it has gone. Suffice it to say, it is planted. If you have ever had any experience with—but here it is getting on toward 11 o'clock, and at 12:10 I must take the Montreal express. I don't propose to board it here. I shall drive to South Ashfield. Now, understand me, father," as Cyrus Felton again seeks to interrupt him, "it is just
