"You mean—"
Rosalind's voice was trembling.
"I mean that my pal started an engine that I couldn't have started in a year," he added, complacently.
"You—you villain!"
"Ma'am?"
"You unspeakable scoundrel!"
Rosalind had risen to her feet. Her hand crept to a pocket in her sweater.
"You hit on a new name that time, ma'am."
"You dare to say," she exclaimed in an unsteady voice, "that I was in any way associated with—with—whatever you did at Mr. Davidson's?"
"Well, now, I haven't said so exactly. Only just try to look at it from the jury's angle."