"Because I wish to marry you myself."
"I see." Clarice drew the anonymous letter from her pocket, and placed it in his hand; "and to gain your ends you are willing to go to these lengths?"
The doctor read the few lines gravely, and then handed back the letter. "Still I don't understand."
"Yes, you do, Sir Daniel. You wrote that letter."
Jerce sprang to his feet with an agility astonishing in so stout a man. "You insult me," he said, with cold, suppressed fury.
"Have I not reason to," she flashed out, "when you seek to prevent my marriage by accusing Ferdy, of murder?"
"I did not accuse him; I never wrote that letter; it is not in my handwriting; it is not written on my own stationery."
"Of course not. You would have signed your name if it had been."
"Did you ask me down to accuse me of this?" asked Sir Daniel, contemptuously. "Yes, I did, and I tell you that your plot will fail, as Ferdy is perfectly innocent."
"I never said that he was guilty."