“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.

“Listen to me,” he said in a low, intense tone, “We are alone in this house—­ you and I—­ and will be for half an hour or more.  You are in my power.  What will you do?  Give up all the papers you possess and promise to keep silent about what you know or take the consequences.”

It would be telling an untruth to say I was not thoroughly startled by the merchant’s sudden change of manner.  He was about to assault me, that was plain to see, and he wished me to understand that no one was near either to assist me or to bear witness against his dark doings.

I must fight my own battles, not only in a war of words, but also in a war of blows.  I was not afraid after the first shock was over.  My cause was a just one, and I would stand by it, no matter what the consequences might be.

“I don’t fear you, Aaron Woodward,” I replied, as steadily as I could.  “I am in the right and shall stick up for it, no matter what comes.”

“You defy me?” he cried in a rage.

“Yes, I do.”

I had hardly uttered the words before he caught up a heavy cane standing beside his desk and made for me.  There was a wicked determination in his eyes, and I could see that all the evil passions within him were aroused.