CHAPTER XXIII.
"And suppose the police call during your absence ?" said Austin Turold, glancing sharply at his son.
"Then you had better tell the truth.

I am tired of it all." "I might ask, with Pilate, What is truth ?--in your case." "You know it already, father, whether you believe me or not." Austin Turold looked strangely at him--a look in which anger was mingled with something deeper and more searching, as though he sought to reach some secret in the depth of his soul.

Impatiently he crossed the room to the fireplace, and stood with his back to the fire, facing his son.
"I do not see that there's any more risk than there was before," said Charles gloomily.
"I say there is," returned his father sharply.

"What! Do you suppose you can go off to London like this, leaving me here alone, at such a moment?
Do you not see that your unexplained absence, in itself, is likely to bring suspicion upon you, indeed, upon both of us ?" "I cannot help that," returned the young man desperately.

"I must go and find Sisily." "You are not likely to find her.