“I should have known you,” she said, “but for that disguise—the beard and motor-coat.”
“That just goes to show that filial affection will out,” commented the man. “You haven’t seen me for seven years—”
“Except on the steamer,” she corrected.
“True, but there I kept considerately out of your way.”
“Considerately!” she echoed in a bitter tone.
“Can you question it?” he asked, lightly ironic, moving noiselessly to and fro while appraising the contents of the room with swift, searching glances.
“As, for instance, your actions tonight....”
“They simply prove my contention, dear child.” He paused, gazing down at her with a quizzical leer. “My very presence here affirms my entire devotion to your welfare.”
She looked up, dumfounded by his effrontery. “Is it worth while to waste your time so?” she enquired. “You failed the first time tonight, but you can’t fail now; I’m alone, I can’t oppose you, and you know I won’t raise an alarm. Why not stop talking, take what you want and go? And leave me to be accused of theft unless I choose to tell the world—what it wouldn’t believe—that my own father stole the necklace from me!”
“Ah, but how unjust you are!” exclaimed the man. “How little you know me, how little you appreciate a father’s affection!”