"Father--I--let us not talk about it now," said Graydon hastily, a shadow of repugnance in his eyes. Bansemer studied his face for a moment and a deep red mounted to his brow.
"You mean, Graydon," he stammered, "that you--you do not want my money?"
"Why should we talk about it now?"
"Because it suggests my death?"
"No, no, father. I--"
"You need not say it. I understand. It's enough. You feel that my money was not honestly made. Well, we won't discuss it. I'll not offer it to you again."
"It won't make any difference, dad. I love you. I don't love your money."
"Or the way I earned it. Some day, my boy, you'll learn that very few make money by dealing squarely with their fellow men. It's not the custom. My methods were a little broader than common, that's all. I now notify you that I intend to leave all I have to sweet charity. I earned most of my ill-gotten wealth in New York and Chicago, and I'm going to give it back to these cities. Charity will take anything that is offered, but it doesn't always give in return."
At the expiration of the time allotted to the visitor, Graydon took his departure.
"Graydon, ask her to think kindly of me if she can."
"I'll come down again, father before I go East."
"No!" almost shouted James Bansemer. "I won't have it! For my sake, Graydon, don't ever come here again. Don't shame me more than you have to-day. I'll never forget this hour. Stay away and you'll be doing me the greatest kindness in the world. Promise me, boy!"
"I can't promise that, dad. It isn't a sane request. I am your son--"
"My God, boy, don't you see that I can't bear to look at you through these bars? Go! Please go! Good-bye! Write to me, but don't come here again. Don't! It's only a few years."
He turned away abruptly, his shoulder drawn upward as if in pain, and Graydon left the place, weakened and sick at heart.
Jane and Droom were awaiting him in an outer office. The former looked into his eyes searchingly, tenderly.
"I'm so sorry, Graydon," she said as she took his hand in hers.
All the way back to Chicago Elias Droom sat and watched them from under lowered brows, wondering why it was that he felt so much lonelier than he ever had felt before,--wondering, too, in a vague sort of way, why he was not able to exult, after all.