“That is the truth as I stand here in the sight of Heaven,” she replied in a voice that rang with sincerity and carried conviction to more than one of the officers seated at that table. “By that act the murderer sought not only to save himself from exposure, but to complete his work by succeeding to the Tressilian estates. Sir Oliver was to have been sold into slavery to the Moors of Barbary. Instead the vessel upon which he sailed was captured by Spaniards, and he was sent to the galleys by the Inquisition. When his galley was captured by Muslim corsairs he took the only way of escape that offered. He became a corsair and a leader of corsairs, and then....”
“What else he did we know,” Lord Henry interrupted. “And I assure you it would all weigh very lightly with us or with any court if what else you say is true.”
“It is true. I swear it, my lord,” she repeated.
“Ay,” he answered, nodding gravely. “But can you prove it?”
“What better proof can I offer you than that I love him, and have married him?”
“Bah!” said Sir John.
“That, mistress,” said Lord Henry, his manner extremely gentle, “is proof that yourself you believe this amazing story. But it is not proof that the story itself is true. You had it, I suppose,” he continued smoothly, “from Oliver Tressilian himself?”
“That is so; but in Lionel’s own presence, and Lionel himself confirmed it—admitting its truth.”
“You dare say that?” cried Sir John, and stared at her in incredulous anger. “My God! You dare say that?”
“I dare and do,” she answered him, giving him back look for look.