Explore "The White Glove" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Sefton lay there, with Rayne standing over him like a tiger, and none of the rest attempting to interfere. The man might have been dead for all they cared. He had robbed them of a great part of their booty, and any man there would have murdered him without hesitation. Not for a moment had it been possible for anybody to doubt the truth of Rayne's word--they had been clearly reflected on Sefton's ghastly face.
Nor was the hearing at all a pleasant one for Clifford. He had always known his father-in-law as a hard, greedy, grasping man, without the bowels of compassion, but he had never been identified with downright dishonesty before. Rayne had spoken truly in this matter; Sefton's feeble denial had only strengthened the accusation, and there was another thing. Madeline had actually seen Sefton closeted with her father on the night of her adventure. Well, perhaps this knowledge might be turned to advantage, Clifford thought. He might be able to force Forfitt's hand over it.