"You lie!"
"I do not!" he declared firmly. "You remember your father's last letter which cousin Octave read to us at Roborey? The Prince of Argonne related how he heard two men talking under his window and saw a hand slip through it towards the table and sneak the medal. Well, the man who had accompanied the other on the expedition and was waiting below, was George Davernoie. And that rogue, Dorothy, the very next night robbed his comrade."
Dorothy was shaking with indignation and abhorrence:
"It's a lie! Raoul's father take to such a trade? A thief?"
"Worse than that. For the enterprise had not only robbery for its aim.... And if the man who poured the poison into the glass and whose tattooed arm was seen by the Prince of Argonne, does not deny his acts, he doesn't forget that the poison was provided by the other."
"You lie! You lie! You alone are the culprit! You alone murdered my father!"
"You don't really believe that. And look: here's a letter from him to the old Baron, to his father, that is. I found it among the Baron's papers. Read it:
"'I have at last laid my hand on the indispensable gold piece. On my next leave I'll bring it to you.'
"And look at the date. A week after the death of the Prince of Argonne! Do you believe me now, eh? And don't you think that we might come to an understanding between ourselves, apart from this milksop Raoul?"
This revelation had tried Dorothy sorely. However, she pulled herself together and putting a good face on it, she asked: