"Not yesterday, Paula."
"The day before, then——"
"It was I you lent it to the day before, if you remember, Paula," struck in Ross's voice quietly. "Please try to stick to facts as much as possible."
"Well, you, then—or your wretched sister—one or the other of you," she returned vehemently, stung out of all thought of good-breeding by the sudden appearance of this thing of ill-repute. "What does it matter, so long as it was used by one of you?"
"And you will remember, if you think back, that I myself brought it up to your boudoir and handed it to you, Paula, and I myself saw you place it in your top drawer," interposed Ross, still in that ice-cold terrible voice which is so much more horrible to bear than red-hot anger.
"You lie!—you lie!"
"He does not!" It was Johanna McCall who spoke at this juncture—Johanna, with two red spots of colour in her usually pale cheeks and her eyes fairly blazing. "I saw him do it, too— I saw you, Mr. Duggan. Don't believe what she says, Mr. Deland! It is she who lies— I swear that!"
To and fro the evil words flew like vultures seeking to peck each other's hearts out in the combat. In the sudden hush which followed this last denouncement, while Lady Paula was accumulating her forces to retaliate, Cleek held up his hand.
"Then I take it," he said, "that the stiletto is the property of Lady Paula, but that it was last used by Mr. Duggan, who returned it to Lady Paula in the presence of a witness, and she put it back into her drawer. That is correct, is it not?"
"A lie—an absolute lie!"