“Well,” she challenged, “what about it?”
Wharton seated himself in front of the roller-top desk.
“Are you strong enough to tell me?” he asked.
His tone was kind, and this the girl seemed to resent.
“Don’t you worry,” she sneered, “I’m strong enough. Strong enough to tell all I know—to you, and to the papers, and to a jury—until I get justice.” She clinched her free hand and feebly shook it at him. “THAT’S what I’m going to get,” she cried, her voice breaking hysterically, “justice.”
From behind the arm-chair in which the girl half-reclined Mrs. Earle caught the eye of the district attorney and shrugged her shoulders.
“Just what DID happen?” asked Wharton.
Apparently with an effort the girl pulled herself together.
“I first met your brother-in-law——” she began.
Wharton interrupted quietly.