"The public has the right to know," declared Miss Coates, "the
sort of people you are. I have the record of each of you -- "
From the hall Winthrop had entered quickly, but, disregarding
him, Vance broke in upon the speaker, savagely, defiantly.
"Print em, then!" he shouted, "print em!"
"I mean to," declared Miss Coates, "yours, and hers, she -- "
Winthrop placed himself in front of her, shutting her off from
the others. He spoke in an earnest whisper.
"Don't!" he begged. "She has asked for a chance. Give her a
chance."
Miss Coates scorned to speak in whispers.
"She has had a chance," she protested loudly. "She's had a
chance for nine years; and she's chosen to be a charlatan and a
cheat, and -- " The angry woman hesitated, and then flung the
word -- "and a thief!"
In the silence that followed no one turned toward Vera; but as
it continued unbroken each raised his eyes and looked at her.
They saw her drawn to her full height; the color flown from her
face, her deep, brooding eyes flashing. She was like one by some
religious fervor lifted out of herself, exalted. When she spoke
her voice was low, tense. It vibrated with tremendous, wondering
indignation.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked. She spoke like one in a
trance. "Do you know who you are threatening with your police
and your laws? I am a priestess! I am a medium between the souls
of this world and the next. I am Vera -- the Truth! And I mean,"
the girl cried suddenly, harshly, flinging out her arm, "that
you shall hear the truth! Tonight I will bring your mother from
the grave to speak it to you!"
With a swift, sweeping gesture she pointed to the door.
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