“Do I understand that you two are trying to make me out a thief?” demanded Mr. Dalton, hoarsely.
“It is an ugly word; but, morally speaking, I should say it was the right one to use in this case; legally, however, since there was no codicil to the will, I suppose Miss Dalton is entitled to everything,” Mr. Felton observed, dryly, with a scornful curve of his lip.
Mr. Dalton for a moment was too enraged to reply; then he burst forth:
“I will see him in —— before he shall ever touch a penny of her money! That is my ultimatum.”
Mr. Felton, upon this, turned to Editha, who was standing, very pale, by the table.
Her father’s anger and words had shocked her beyond expression; but they had also aroused some of the reserve force of her character.
“In that case, Miss Editha, my services are not needed here to-day. I suppose I shall destroy the document I have prepared?”
“No, sir! Keep it if you please.”
“Keep it! What for, pray?” demanded her father, with a sneer.
She turned to him very quietly, but with a mien which he was learning to dread, and said, in low, firm tones: