"You are lying!"
"I swear I'm telling you the truth," he cried, eagerly attempting to regain her hand.
She turned from him with contempt. She saw too late that she had overplayed the part. She had been too eager, too sure. He was a greater coward than she had suspected.
"But why should you ask such a thing of me?" he stammered.
"You know why."
"I haven't the remotest idea."
"Coward!" she hissed, turning suddenly. "You know that I wish to hang this man for the murder of my father."
"If the Government of the United States with its army and navy and its millions cannot find him—am I a coward because I tell you that I do not know his name?"
"Yes."
"In God's name why?" he pleaded.
"I know that you are a member of the Klan."
"Upon my soul and honour I swear that I am not!"
"Have you either soul or honour?"
"I won't quarrel with you, dear; you are overwrought and crushed by this tragedy. You don't mean what you say."
