Explore "False Evidence" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
For a whole week I shared my father's abode in company with this band of robbers, and then, finding me indomitable in my determination to remain with him, he made another proposition. Such a retreat and such company as we were amongst was all very well for him, an outcast from the world; but for me it was different. He did not like the thought of my dwelling amongst proscribed men; there was no necessity for it.
At first I laughed at him. Monsieur José and I were the best of friends, and though with the other men I could not exchange even a casual remark, for their only language was a vile, unintelligible patois, they were all civil enough, and seemed disposed to be friendly. The wild, open life suited me exactly, especially in the mood in which I then was, and I had no wish to change it for any more luxurious method of living. But as my father seemed to have made up his mind upon the matter, I, of course, had little to say about it.