Lambert issued his command. "Get your outfits together. I don't understand how you got here, but you're going to get out with me within the next half-hour."
Viola's spirit rose like flame. "We're all ready--this moment. I sent our trunks away this morning. They went to the West Park. I'll be down instantly," and she turned to run up the stairs, just as Clarke appeared at their head. His face was white and wild and his voice hoarse with fear and reproach as he intercepted her.
"What has happened? Who is below?"
"My step-father," she answered, curtly, and fled away to her room.
Mrs. Lambert was about to follow when she saw Clarke descending, and drew back with a look of appeal at her husband. It was evident to Serviss that her confidence in Clarke had given place to fear.
During all this time Pratt had been standing meditatively swaying to and fro on his feet, chewing upon something which he held far back in his cheek. He resembled a sullen, chained, and vindictive elephant meditating murder. He watched Clarke descend the stairs with very little change of expression; but Lambert's face darkened as the minister called out: "What are you going to do?"
"That does not concern you," he replied, and his voice cut. "Your control of my household stops right here! Julia, go get your things." He laid an imperative hand on Clarke's arm. "Clear the way for her!"
With a look of alarm Mrs. Lambert started to follow her daughter. "Don't be harsh, Joe." Then to Clarke she said, pleadingly: "It's best, Anthony, for a little while. Viola is so nervous and morbid."
"I know what it means," he passionately answered. "It means the wreck of all my hopes. It means ruin to all my plans--"
Lambert again interfered. "Julia! get dressed. I will attend to Mr. Clarke." As she hurried up the stairs he turned to Morton in apology. "I've been to blame for this separation. I should have asserted my rights before. No man has the right to shirk his family duty. My duty was to look after the welfare of my wife and daughter, and now see their faces! This year has made Julia an old woman." His voice choked. When he could speak he addressed himself to Clarke. "You promised me that you wouldn't use the girl's name in any way, and yet I'm told you're about to publish it broadcast."
"The control consents--"
Here Lambert's wrath broke bonds. "Damn the control! I don't consent. And I serve notice on you, and on you too"--he directed a menacing look upon Pratt--"to respect the name of my wife as well as that of my daughter. Clarke has lived long enough in the West to know what I mean, but I'll explain to you." He faced Pratt, and with easy, almost gentle utterance, continued: "I've spent some thirty-five years on the border, where a man is called upon now and then to serve as his own judge, jury, and hangman. Perhaps we're a little prone to take matters into our own hands; but be that as it may, the professor here has posted me about you and your ways, and I merely want to state, once for all, that if you utter one word public or private against my wife or daughter I'll kill you as I would a wolf."