"I see. You are fighting against your father."
"I fight on the side of right. If the property is yours, Rupert is willing to hand it over; if it is his, he has every right to keep it. But you have no right," cried Dorinda, striking the table passionately, "to accuse an innocent man of committing such a cowardly crime."
"You are talking nonsense," said Mallien, doggedly and folded his arms. "He is guilty."
"He is not. No one knows that better than you."
Mallien cringed at that last sentence, and his dark face grew strangely pale as he avoided his daughter's steady blue eyes. "I don't know why you should say that," he muttered.
"What else can I say when you have known Rupert for so many years?" was the passionate reply. "Has he ever behaved otherwise than honorably? Is he the man, father, to kill a weakling like poor Mr. Leigh, for money which he cares very little about? You know better."
Mallien recovered his self-possession during his daughter's speech and shook his shoulders as he laughed harshly. "I know that the will stands between Rupert and absolute poverty," he retorted obstinately; "and if a man has to make a choice----"
"A man like Rupert would chose poverty rather than crime," interrupted Dorinda imperiously. "What reason have you to believe that Rupert would do such a wicked thing?"
"My knowledge of human nature----"
"Oh, is that all?" There was an expression of relief in Dorinda's voice as she interrupted him again. "So your evidence is purely circumstantial?"