"I'm not asking you what the jury thought. I want to know what you think. For I know that he's innocent. He did not do it."
Sir Reginald pressed her hand tightly. He did not know what to say. That was the worst of women, they were so illogical. Rupert Dale had been found guilty by a jury of his own countrymen, therefore, of course, he was guilty.
"Why do you say you know he's innocent? You can't have proof. If you had——"
A curious smile parted Marjorie's lips. She looked at Sir Reginald with sorrow in her eyes, almost pity.
"How strange men are! They only use their reason, never their instinct. Evidence has hanged many an innocent man, Sir Reginald, hasn't it? Instinct—which for some reason women have cultivated and men have neglected—tells me that my brother is innocent. I know. You will never know."
Sir Reginald shrugged his shoulders. It was impossible to say anything. Argument would be useless and unkind. He pressed her hand again and was turning away when she stopped him.
"I also know why you came over to see me to-day."
Sir Reginald flushed. "I came to——"
"To tell me that you will not allow an engagement between myself and Jim. He has told you, or you have found out, that we love one another."
Sir Reginald dropped her hand. His body stiffened. He looked at her sternly. "Your father told me. My boy has said nothing. This is the first time in his life he has ever had a secret from me. I suppose you wished it kept a secret?"