‘And which proposition did you favour?’
‘I favoured,’ said Teresa, with a coldness equalling her father’s, ‘I favoured the proposition that you had killed Micky. Bridget heard a revolver-shot in the night. I knew that you kept a revolver. Bridget had previously heard you and Micky at high words. This morning you had disappeared without warning me. Micky had also disappeared. Father, you were not treating me fairly.’
‘You consider that before I leave my house I must give you “warning” like a servant, eh, Teresa? I wonder what Mr. Redgrave thinks of all this.’
‘I do not see that it matters what Mr. Redgrave thinks,’ said Teresa.
‘It matters greatly,’ the old man contradicted; ‘and I will give you the reason.’ He walked across the room very deliberately to the tall clock. ‘Mr. Redgrave will be your husband, Teresa.’
‘Father!’
Richard tried to think of something suitable to such an extraordinary occasion, but could not.
‘You have hopelessly compromised yourself with him, and he shall marry you.’
‘Never!’ said Teresa, with every nerve tingling with a girl’s pride. ‘I will die first!’
‘Very well,’ said Mr. Craig, with frightful calmness, ‘you will die, Teresa.’