How pretty she was--how gracefully she moved her arm as she lifted the cups; and the way the hair waved about her temples; and the tones of her voice--and dear Peter, so kind and thoughtful of him, so careful that he should be introduced to this and that person; and Miss Felicia! What a great lady she was; and yet he was not a bit afraid of her.

What would they all think of him when the facts of his uncle's crime came to their ears, and they MUST come sooner or later.

What, too, would Peter think of him for breaking out on his uncle, which he firmly intended to do as soon as the hour hand reached eleven?
Nor would he mince his words.

That an outrage of this kind could be committed on an unsuspecting man was bad enough, but that it should have taken place in his own uncle's office, bringing into disrepute his father's and his own good name, was something he could not tolerate for a moment.

This he intended saying to his uncle in so many plain words; and so leaving our hero with his soul on fire, his mind bent on inflammables, explosives, high-pressures--anything in fact that once inserted under the solid body of the senior Breen would blow that gentleman into space--we will betake ourselves to his palatial home.