"In that case"--Lestrange rose to his feet and looked very stern--"I must appeal to the law."
Alan laughed.
"The law can't help you," he said. "Sophy is over age and her own mistress. Even if you can prove your case, you cannot force her to go with you."
"Natural affection----"
"Don't talk to me about natural affection!" cried the girl. "I know nothing about you. Nothing in the world will make me go with you!"
"But if I tell my story to the world?" cried Lestrange, hinting a threat.
"Tell it, by all means," said Thorold, putting his arm round Sophy. "You can hurt only the memory of the dead. Even if Marlow, as you assert, killed your cousin, he is dead, and beyond your reach."
"Are you so sure he is dead?" sneered the man.
"Of course we are sure," cried Sophy indignantly. "Didn't I see him dead in his coffin?"
"Well," said Lestrange, preparing to go, "it is most extraordinary to me that he should have died so suddenly and so conveniently. His body, too, has been stolen. That also is convenient."