With the words she sprang to her feet, and stood before him, goaded to frenzy, challenging his calm.
"Where did you find it?" she demanded.
"It was found on the terrace," he said.
She flung out a trembling hand. "Ah! Then I dropped it that night that my dress caught fire. I thought it was burnt. And you found it—you dared to read it!"
He did not attempt to explain his action. Perhaps he realized he was more likely to obtain the truth from her thus than by endless cross-questioning. "Yes, I have read it," he said.
She made a desperate gesture. "And because of this—because of this—you—you accuse me of—"
"I have accused you of nothing," he said sternly. "I have only asked you to tell me the truth. I hoped you would do so of your own free will, but since you will not—"
"Yes?" she cried back. "Since I will not—?"
"I shall find another means," he answered.
He rose abruptly. They stood face to face. There was no shrinking about
Chris now. She was braced to defiance.