“That rascal placed it there,” he said firmly.
CHAPTER XX. THE LETTER
At this second insult Archie quite expected to see the skipper again draw his revolver and shoot. He therefore jumped up rapidly to once more avert disaster. But perhaps the fiery American was awed by the presence of a second lady—since men of the adventurous type are often shy when the fair sex is at hand—for he meekly sat where he was and did not even contradict. Don Pedro shook hands with Sir Frank, and then Hervey smiled blandly.
“I see you don't believe in my theory,” said he scoffingly.
“What theory is that?” asked Random hastily.
“Hervey declares that you murdered Bolton, stole the manuscript from him, and concealed it in your room,” said Archie succinctly.
“I can't suggest any other reason for its presence in the room,” observed the American with a grim smile. “If I'm wrong, perhaps this almighty aristocrat will correct me.”
Random was about to do so, and with some pardonable heat, when he was anticipated by Donna Inez. It has been mentioned before that this young lady was of the silent order. Usually she simply ornamented any company in which she found herself without troubling to entertain with her tongue. But the accusation against the baronet, whom she apparently loved, changed her into a voluble virago. Brushing aside the little Professor, who stood in her way, she launched herself forward and spoke at length. Hervey, cowering in the chair, thus met with an antagonist against whom he had no armor. He could not use force; she dominated him with her eye and when he ventured to open his mouth his few feeble words were speedily drowned by the torrent of speech which flowed from the lips of the Peruvian lady. Every one was as astonished by this outburst as though a dog had spoken. That the hitherto silent Donna Inez de Gayangos should speak thus freely and with such power was quite as great a miracle.
“You—are a dog and a liar,” said Donna Inez with great distinctness, and speaking English excellently. “What you say against Sir Frank is madness and foolish talk. In Genoa my father did not speak of the manuscript, nor did I, who tell you this. How, then, could Sir Frank kill this poor man, when he had no reason to slay him—”