for a good many years. Surprised, eh? Well, it's a fact. We came together in—in business, before—before he made a fool of himself by pretending to be better than other people."
At the mention of his father's name, from the lips of such a man, Philip started violently. Belmont (for such, in deference to his request, he will be called henceforth here) had forgotten for an instant his self-control in his anger over some past event. But Philip's own composure was upset by the sneer.
"How dare you speak so of my father!" he exclaimed, indignantly. "You can insult me, but you can't insult him—to my face. I don't know who you are yet, nor what you have done. But I know that my father never willingly had a word to say to such a man as you. Not he. As for that matter you hint at, he was as innocent in it as—as Gerald Saxton!"
Taken aback at the boy's honest anger and courage, Belmont uttered an exclamation. Forgetful of the likelihood of being overheard, he began, excitedly, "Gerald Saxton! Ah, yes, now you've brought me to the point! It's about him I propose to talk to you, you im-
