But I should have acquiesced. Now it
is for you to acquiesce. After all, what claim have you upon her?"
"I admit that I have no claim," I said, more calmly. "But there is one
who has a claim, and to whom she is bound to listen."
"You refer, no doubt, to that misguided young man who is now in prison."
"I refer to Frederic Swain, yes," I retorted hotly. "It is true he is
in prison. And how did he get there? By coming when she called him; by
trying to assist her."
"Was it assisting her to kill her father?" queried Silva, and his
lips were curled with scorn.
I paused a moment to make sure of my self-control, for it seemed to be
slipping from me.
"Senor Silva," I said, at last, "how her father came to his death I do
not know; but I do know that Swain had no hand in it."
"Yet he is in prison," he reminded me.
"Innocent men have been in prison before this. I will get him out."
"By what means?"
"By finding the real murderer!" I said, and looked at him with eyes
which I know were bloodshot.
He returned my gaze steadily.
"So you think I am the murderer?" he asked, quietly.
I got a grip of myself--I saw that I had gone too far.
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