Excerpt
A CLEVER RUSE
I must confess I was frightened when Mr. Woodward locked the door of his library and caught me by the collar. Was it possible that he contemplated doing me physical harm? It looked that way.
I was not accustomed to such rough treatment, and I resented it instantly. I was not very large for my age, but I was strong, and ducking my head I wrenched myself free from his grasp and sprang to the other side of the small table that stood in the centre of the room.
"What do you mean by treating me in this manner!" I cried. "Unlock that door at once!"
"Not much, sir," replied Mr. Woodward, vehemently. "You've made some remarkable statements, young man, and I demand a clear explanation before you leave."
"Well, you demand too much, Aaron Woodward," I replied firmly. "Unlock that door."
"Not just yet. I want to know what you know of Holtzmann of Chicago?"
"You won't learn by treating me in this manner," was my determined reply. "Unlock that door, or, take my word for it, I'll arouse the whole neighborhood."
"You'll do nothing of the kind, young man," he rejoined.
"I will."
"Make the least disturbance and you shall pay dearly for it. Understand, sir, I'm not to be trifled with."
"And I'm not to be frightened into submission," I returned with spirit. "I have a right to leave when I please and I shall do so."
"Not till I am ready," said he, coolly.
I was nonplussed and alarmed— nonplussed over the question of how to get away, and alarmed at the thought of what might happen if I was compelled to remain.
I began to understand Mr. Aaron Woodward's true character. Like Duncan, he was not only a bully, but also a brute. Words having failed, he was now evidently going to see what physical force could accomplish.
"Forewarned is forearmed" is an old saying, and now I applied it to myself. In other words, I prepared for an encounter. On the centre table lay a photograph album. It was thick and heavy and capable of proving quite a formidable article of defence. I picked it up, and stepping behind a large easy chair, stood on my guard.
Seeing the action, the merchant paused.
"What are going to do with that?" he asked.
"You'll see if you keep on," I replied. "I don't intend to stand this much longer. You had better open the door."
"You think you're a brainy boy, Strong," he sneered.
"I've got too much brain to let you ride over me."
"You think you have a case against me and Mr. Stumpy, and you intend to drag it into court and make a great fuss over it," he went on.
"I'm going to get back my father's honest name."
"What you mean is that you intend to drag my name in the mire," he stormed.
"You can have it so, if you please."
"I shall not allow it. You, a young upstart!"
"Take care, Mr. Woodward!"
"Do you think I will submit to it?" He glared at me and threw a hasty glance around the room. "Not much!"
Suddenly he stepped to the windows and pulled down the shades. Then he took out his watch and looked at the time. I wondered what he was up to now. I was not long in finding out....