CHAPTER XXXVI.THE PARRICIDE.

CHAPTER XXXVI.THE PARRICIDE.

“You’d better not try it.”

“Why not?” snarled Richmond.

“She may be dangerous.”

“That chit? Pshaw!”

“Just try it. See here. You don’t want to be too gay just now. Don’t you know you’re a dead man?”

“So I am.”

“Well, be a little careful. What if Carter gets on to our game?”

“Carter mustn’t do that.”

“Of course not, but we must see that he cannot.”

Ten minutes longer the two men, watched by Bristol Clara, the tenant in the next house, remained in the room, and then Richmond bade Claude good night.

The moment the millionaire’s son found himself alone he struck the table with his fist.

“Why didn’t I really kill that man?” he exclaimed. “He is bound to be my evil genius, after all. I can’t see my way clear to ultimate success with him in the way. He’ll blackmail me, and what can I do? If he were really dead——”

He did not finish the sentence, but broke it off suddenly, and arose, throwing his cigar away.

“I’ll go home,” he said.

A few minutes later he was met at the door of his home by his sister Opal, whose face told him that she had something of importance to say.

“Father is gone,” said the girl, with a gasp, andwould have fallen if Claude had not caught her around the waist.

“Gone?” echoed the young sport.

“It is true. You can see for yourself.”

Opal led the way to the library, and mutely pointed at her father’s chair.

“When did you miss him?” asked Claude.

“An hour ago.”

“Did he leave any message behind?”

“Yes.”

“Where is it?”

Opal handed her brother a crumpled note, and the young man leaned toward the light to read its contents.

“My God! you don’t believe that?” he exclaimed, turning upon his sister.

“I don’t know what to believe,” was the answer.

“What have you done?”

“Nothing. I’ve been waiting for you. I sent to the club, but the message came back that you had not been there.”

“Something must be done. Certainly father did not mean this. He has not gone to the police.”

“I—don’t—know.”

“I’ll see. He may have gone to the river in a fit of madness. He would not tell all he knows about Mother Flintstone.”

“I should think he would not.”

Claude seized his hat and rushed from the house.

For a little while his brain seemed to swim, and the lights blinded him.

He did not ask what Opal would do now that she was again the sole occupant of the house.

He did not seem to care.

Perry Lamont was a runaway, with a great secret at his tongue’s end and millions at stake.

For some time the old nabob had been subject to strange spells of mania, and the worst was to be feared.

It was this that urged Claude Lamont on and on.

He could not wait till he got downtown, and minutes seemed hours to him.

He thought of a thousand things.

He wondered what had become of Carter, and more than once he looked back, as if he expected to see Nick on his trail.

At a fashionable saloon he stopped long enough to gulp down something for his nerves, and then he hastened on again.

Suddenly he stopped, and then dropped into the shadow of a large building.

A man was crossing the street—coming toward him.

His heart took a great leap into his throat, for it was the very man he was hunting for—his father.

Claude stood in the shadows and watched him like a hawk.

He could not take his eyes off the old man, and as he neared him he debated in his mind what to do.

As the millionaire stepped upon the sidewalk within a few feet of him the son darted forward and clutched him by the arm.

“Father!” he cried.

With a powerful effort Perry Lamont shook the grip loose and looked into Claude’s face.

“My God! he’s mad!” ejaculated the young man.

“It is Claude. Don’t you know me?” pleaded the son.

“Let me go. I’ve been looking after my sister—little Sis, you know.”

“Heavens! he means Mother Flintstone!” thought Claude.

“I can’t find her. What’s become of Sis?”

“I’ll find her for you.”

“What; you’ll show me where she is?” cried the old man.

“Yes, yes. Come with me.”

In an instant Lamont’s mind changed, and he became as docile as a lamb.

As Claude was near the house he occupied when not at home he guided his father thither and let him inside.

Conducting him to the library, where he had just had an interview with George Richmond, he seated his parent and took a chair himself.

“Is she here?” asked Lamont.

“Yes; you’ll see her presently.”

“But I can’t wait. I want to see Sis now. I haven’t seen her for years, and I want to tell her about the money I have kept for her so long.”

“What money?”

“I’ve kept it for Sis. It belongs to her—the thousands which were left to her, you know.”

“What if Sis isn’t in need of money?” queried Claude.

“Then I’ll throw it into the fire! No one shall have it but her. I will see to that. Who are you?”

Claude smiled grimly.

His father had not recognized him.

“Come, you don’t want Sis to have the money,” he cried, and before the son could prevent, the other was on his feet, his eyes glaring like the orbs of a wolf.

“I’ll have your blood if you don’t tell me!” shrieked the mad millionaire.

“I’m your son.”

“No, you’re not! My son? It’s a lie!”

Claude saw his danger, and the madman advancing upon him made him throw out his hand in self-defense.

“My son is at home!” cried Lamont, senior. “You are not he. I won’t believe it!”

“But, father——”

The sentence was not finished, for all at once Perry Lamont sprang at his son, and grabbing him by the shoulders, threw him against the wall.

There was a startled cry on the other side of it from the woman whose eyes seemed glued to the paper there.

“I’ll kill you like a dog if you don’t tell me where Sis is. I went to her den—they called her Mother Flintstone, you know—but she wasn’t there. Where is she?”

“Let me loose first.”

“And let you run off? Not much; ha! ha!” and the maniac laughed. “I won’t do anything of the kind.”

“But I can’t show you where Sis is unless you do that. I won’t run away, father.”

“It is false. You can’t fool me. I will hold you here till you tell the truth.”

“Well, Sis, is asleep in the room yonder.”

“Is that true?”

Claude Lamont wanted to gain time. If he could get rid of his father’s maddened hands he might effect his escape, for just now he was in danger.

Perry Lamont glanced toward the door, and seemed disposed to believe his desperate son.

But suddenly he appeared to change his mind, for again his eyes shot forth sparks of fire.

“Call her out here,” he said.

Claude’s heart seemed to sink within him.

He knew he could not call back the dead.

He wished for the door to open and admit some one; he would have rejoiced then, with his father’s fingers buried in his throat, to have seen Carter.

“I’ll give you one second, or to hades you go!” suddenly cried Perry Lamont.

Claude’s blood seemed to run cold.

One second to live!

What had become of George Richmond?

Why didn’t that worthy turn up to save him in the nick of time?

Why had he guided his father to that house and not home, where he would have had Opal for an ally?

Fate was against him.

“Quick! quick!” exclaimed the madman. “Tell me where Sis is or I will tear your throat here!”

Claude made one last effort.

He summoned all his strength and dashed forward.

His father’s feet tripped on the carpet, and, falling, he dragged him down.

Father and son fell in a heap on the carpet, and for half a second seemed stunned by the tumble.

Claude was the first to recover.

He raised himself and tore himself loose from the maniacal fingers.

As he did so his father sprang up with the roar of a baffled tiger, and launched himself forward.

It left Claude little time for reflection or action.

He saw danger ahead, and his hands were bare of any weapon.

But suddenly he snatched up a glass paper weight from the desk, and launched it straight at his father’s face.

An arrow never went straighter to the mark than did the paper weight. It struck the millionaire fairly in the face, and he went down like a stricken ox.

On the carpet he gave a convulsive gasp and moved one arm; that was all.

“He invited it,” said Claude. “He forced it upon himself. They can’t blame me for this thing.”

Five minutes later he stood on the street, with the house darkened behind him and the glim of the lamps in his eyes.

He looked like Cain; the brand was on his brow.

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