"Yes," said Essenden hoarsely, "that's it."
"Go on."
Essenden swallowed.
"Your father wasn't framed."
He paused.
"I said — Go on!"
The girl's voice ripped out like a pistol shot; yet she had not spoken loudly. The likeness came only from her tone — sharp, swift, distinct, deadly.
"I was in it — I admit that — the thing he was framed for, but he was unlucky. You don't believe me. But I can prove it. I've kept the papers — papers that never came into the inquiry, naturally. If they had, they'd have made it worse for him. I can show you letters in his own hand —"
"Where?"
"In my private safe — hidden away—"