“What have you to say, Mr. Nash?” the president questioned, first to find his voice.
“I have nothing to say,” replied Nash.
“But I have!” a clear, commanding voice arose.
Nash lifted his eyes. Miss Trask, who had so abruptly interrupted, was upon her feet. She looked at the president, who appeared to be as much surprised as the others.
“May I explain?” she asked.
The president nodded. Sigsbee brought himself erect in his chair, a frown chiseled between his brows.
“Why, surely, Miss Breen,” he said anxiously, “this affair cannot interest you.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Sigsbee, it is of vital interest to me,” she answered swiftly. “The man whom you have accused Mr. Nash of murdering was my brother!”
Sigsbee could only sit and gasp; the others about the long table leaned forward in their chairs. So abrupt and startling was the announcement that in the hush which followed one might have heard the dropping of a pin.
“Your brother?” It was the president who first regained his voice.