“If you can call them that,” he growled.

“Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too.  Would you have been astonished to see me there?” she asked tentatively.

“We won’t have any of that,—­do you understand?” he said with fierce authority.

“Why not?  It’s as right for me as it is for any one else, isn’t it?”

“I won’t have it!” he said, lifting his voice slightly.

She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair.

“Marsh, he didn’t kill McBride; he couldn’t,—­he wouldn’t harm a mouse!”

Her words set him raging.

“Keep quiet, will you,—­what do you know about it, anyhow?” he cried with sullen ferocity.

“Don’t be rude, Marsh!  So you don’t want me to come to the trial,—­you tell me I can’t?”

“Did my father say anything about this matter,—­the trial, I mean?” asked Langham haltingly.

“Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn’t interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!”

He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes.

“There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you’ll answer it as you choose,” he said, with his face close to hers.

“Then why ask it?” she said.

“Why,—­because I want to know.  Where were you on the day of the murder,—­between five and six o’clock?”

“I wish you’d let me go, Marsh; you’re hurting me—­” she complained.

She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair.

“You must answer my question, come—­where were you?” Langham commanded.

He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light.

“How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,—­that we dined with your father.”

“I am not asking you about that,—­that was later!”

“I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention.”

“No, you weren’t; you were in North’s rooms!”

“If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,—­you are insulting—­”

He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet.

“You were with North—­” he roared.

“Do you want the servants to hear you?” she asked in an angry whisper.

“Hell!”

He made a step toward her, his hand raised.

“Don’t do that, Marsh.  I should never forgive you!”

Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure.  The clenched hand fell at his side.

“My God, I ought to kill you!” he muttered.

She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face.

“You were with North!” Langham repeated.