Brownie never relaxed a muscle, except that the proud lips curled into a scornful smile.
“You can ring the bell if you choose, Mrs. Coolidge.”
“Have you no fear of the consequences?” her enemy asked, eying her wonderingly, and her lips twitching with wrath.
“None!”
“But you will have to face this whole household.”
“Gather the whole household here, if you will, and have the facts regarding this property brought to light; also the way in which you became possessed of it. Methinks Sir Charles Randal would not be pleased to know that his betrothed wife entered the room of another and purloined such things as these.”
Mrs. Coolidge winced at her words, and she could have trampled her under foot for her scorn and fearlessness.
“You are insolent, Miss Douglas,” she breathed, in suppressed, wrathful tones.
“Insolent or not, I only speak plain truth; and I shall not yield up this casket unless personal violence is used to wrest it from me,” Brownie answered, with calm dignity.
“You are cool, truly,” sneered the woman, exasperated by her manner more than by her words, and as desirous of creating no disturbance as Brownie herself could be.