I am dealing now with a
conspiracy - I stigmatise it as such, and I will expose it
and crush it. And now I order you to tell me how far things
have gone, and whither you have smuggled my unhappy son.'
'My God, sir!' Van Tromp broke out, 'I have had about enough
of this. Your son? God knows where he is for me! What the
devil have I to do with your son? My daughter is out, for
the matter of that; I might ask you where she was, and what
would you say to that? But this is all midsummer madness.
Name your business distinctly, and be off.'
'How often am I to tell you?' cried the Squire. 'Where did
your daughter take my son to-day in that cursed pony
carriage?'
'In a pony carriage?' repeated Van Tromp.
'Yes, sir - with luggage.'
'Luggage?' - Van Tromp had turned a little pale.
'Luggage, I said - luggage!' shouted Naseby. 'You may spare
me this dissimulation. Where's my son. You are speaking to
a father, sir, a father.'
'But, sir, if this be true,' out came Van Tromp in a new key,
'it is I who have an explanation to demand?'
'Precisely. There is the conspiracy,' retorted Naseby.
'Oh!' he added, 'I am a man of the world. I can see through
and through you.'
Van Tromp began to understand.
'You speak a great deal about being a father, Mr. Naseby,'
said he; 'I believe you forget that the appellation is common
to both of us.
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