Her hand shook as she turned the key in the door.
"I am afraid you are going to have an unpleasant surprise," Henson said.
Littimer glanced keenly at the speaker. All the laughter died out of
his eyes; his face grew set and stern as Frank Littimer emerged into
the light.
"And what are you doing here?" he asked, hoarsely. "What do you expect to
gain by taking part in a fool's trick like this? Did I not tell you never
to show your face here again?"
The young man said nothing. He stood there looking down, dogged, quiet,
like one tongue-tied. Littimer thundered out his question again. He
crossed over, laying his hands on his son's shoulders and shaking him as
a terrier might shake a rat.
"Did you come for anything?" he demanded. "Did you expect any
mercy from--"
Frank Littimer shook off his grasp gently. He looked up for the
first time.
"I expected nothing," he said. "I--I did not come of my own free will. I
am silent now for the sake of myself and others. But the time may
come--God knows it has been long delayed. For the present, I am bound in
honour to hold my tongue."
He flashed one little glance at Henson, a long, angry glance.
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