"On the charge that she has guilty knowledge of the murder of Herbert Whitmore," returned Britz.
"It's absurd," railed Luckstone. "Ridiculous! Why don't you accuse her of having killed Mr. Whitmore?"
"Perhaps I may," said Britz challengingly.
"It would be just like you blundering policemen," sneered the lawyer. "Mrs. Collins, a lady of refinement, a gentlewoman in every sense of the word—is she to be dragged to Police Headquarters like a common felon? You have observed her conduct here to-day. You've seen her anxiety for the depositors of this institution. Her only thought was to save them from financial loss. Why, search her entire life and see whether you can discover a single base act that she has committed."
"My interest is confined to the Whitmore case," said Britz.
All this while Mrs. Collins sat outwardly resigned but inwardly rebellious against the injustice which was about to impose on her the humiliation of imprisonment. Now she arose with a sudden accession of new strength.
"Do you really believe me capable of committing murder?" she inquired resentfully.
It was as if she had just awakened from a long torpor and had determined to meet the danger which confronted her with all the weapons at her command. This recovery was precisely what Britz had been waiting for. It foreshadowed fight and the ensuing conflict promised certain revelations which were necessary for a clearer understanding of the circumstances surrounding Whitmore's death.
"Every human being, given sufficient cause, is capable of murder," the detective baited her. "We are all potential murderers."
She recoiled as from a blow. The detective's words could be interpreted only as an intimation of her guilt.