“Pardon me, mother; you are mistaken,” he said quietly.  “I am going to give up nothing.”

“What, you defy me?” she gasped.

“I am not defying you.  I tried to tell you in as pleasant a way as I could what my plans are.  But everything I said, I am going to do.”

“Then—­then—­” At first the words would not come forth; she stood trembling, clutching the back of her chair.  “Then I beg to inform you,” she was saying thickly in her outraged majesty, when Matilda opened the hall door and ushered in an erect, slender man of youngish middle age and with graying hair and dark mustache, and with a pleasant, distinguished face.

“I beg pardon; I fear I come inopportunely,” he said, as he sighted Mrs. De Peyster’s militant attitude.  “But I was told to come right up.  I’ll just wait—­”

“Do not go, Judge Harvey,” Mrs. De Peyster commanded, as he started to withdraw.  “On the other hand, your arrival is most opportune.  Please come here.”

“Good-morning, Uncle Bob,” Jack said cheerfully.  “Excuse me for not shaking hands.  Just a little automobile accident.”

“Jack, you home!” cried the Judge.  “My boy, but you have given us all a scare!” And then in affectionate concern, noticing his hands:  “Nothing serious, I hope?”

“Nothing serious about the accident,” said Jack, glancing at his mother.

Mrs. De Peyster glared at her son, then crossed to the safe, larger and more formidable than the one above from which she had been removing her jewels, took out a document and returned to the two men.  She had something of the ominous air of a tragedy queen who is foreshadowing an approaching climax.

“Judge Harvey, I do not care to go into explanations,” said she.  “But I desire to give you an order and to have you be a witness to my act.”

“Of course, I am at your service, Caroline.”

“In the first place,” she said, striving to speak calmly, “I beg to request my son to move such of his things as he may wish out of this house—­and within the hour.”

“Certainly, mother,” Jack said pleasantly.

“And to you, Judge Harvey,—­I wish my son’s allowance, which is paid through your office, to be discontinued from this moment.”

“Why—­of course—­just as you say,” said the astonished Judge.  “But perhaps if the case were—­”

“This paper is my will,” interrupted Mrs. De Peyster, holding up the document she had taken from the safe.  “As my man of affairs, I believe you are acquainted with its contents.”

“I am.”

“It gives the bulk of my fortune to my son here.”

“Why, yes,” admitted the Judge with increasing bewilderment.

“His share amounts to two millions, or thereabouts.”

“Thereabouts.”

Mrs. De Peyster took two rustling, majestic steps toward her fireplace.  “Until my son gives me very definite assurance that his conduct will be more suitable to me and my position, he is no longer my son.”  And so saying she tossed the will upon the fire.  She allowed a moment of effective silence to elapse.  “That is all, Jack.  You are excused.”