Zara looked at her swiftly. "Oh, I am not prepared to say that; and I beg to remind you that I am not in the witness-box."
"Which means that you cannot swear to the truth of your story."
"Yes, I can; but I can't swear that Mr. Clarke is the murderer. It certainly looks as though he were guilty, but----" Zara paused.
"But you credit Osip with the crime?"
"The jury did--the police do--the papers do--public opinion does. I can't lay claim to be more clever than others."
Clarice looked at her keenly. "Yes, you can, and you do. I believe your story of Mr. Clarke coming out of the room. But as to his guilt----"
"Pardon me. I say nothing about that," interrupted Zara; "but if Prudence sent Ferdy away at my bidding, it shows that she believes her father to be guilty."
Clarice was too clever to relate the other evidence upon which Prudence believed her father to be guilty. "You certainly coerced that poor girl into thinking that there was danger to her father, should the story of his midnight visit become known."
"It never will," replied Zara, carelessly. "Prudence has given up Ferdy, and I am going to marry Ferdy. There's no more to be said."
"There is this--that Ferdy shall not marry you." Zara rose and put her hands behind her back. "He shall."