"That's a lie," said Claudia, calmly, and without rising.
Mrs. Vence spluttered and shook with wrath, in her rage it seemed as
though she were about to rise up and denounce her visitor. But a fit
of coughing prevented her, and by the time it was over she felt too
weak to scold. "It's the truth," she muttered sulkily, and took a
wineglassful of medicine.
"Prove it!"
Claudia, who had entered the room anxious and perturbed, was now quite
calm in asking questions.
Mrs. Vence was patently surprised to see how quietly the girl took the
dreadful charge. "You don't seem much upset!" she croaked. "I thought
you loved that par of yours, as a gel should."
"I do love my father," was Miss Lemby's steady reply, "and for that
reason I decline to believe what you say."
"Then why come here to worrit me?" gasped the old woman, crossly.
"Ain't I got enuff to put up with at my age without silly gels coming
to tell me as I'm a liar. I can't say nothin' else."
"You can; you must. My father explained his movements at the inquest,
and his testimony was accepted as exonerating him. And let me remind
you. Mrs. Vence, that at the inquest you brought no charge against
him."
"'Cause I warn't certain," retorted the old woman, promptly. "'Twas a
nasty case, and I didn't want to be mixed up in it more'n I could
help. I said as little as I could, and afterwards, when that Lady Wyke
come and see me----
"Did she come and see you?" interposed Claudia, anxiously.
"Don't I say she did, cuss you?" growled Mrs. Vence hoarsely. "Of
course she come and see me, to arsk if I know'd of anything likely to
show who killed her old man. I told her what I told you, and she said
as I'd better keep silent till she wanted me."
"She intended to accuse my father, then?"
"Yus. I s'pose so, when she was ready. And I thinks," added Mrs.
Vence, with a dry cough, "as she's gitting ready; for she's arsked me
down to Hedgerton at the end of the week--four days off, that is,
miss."
"Are you going?"
"How can I say. If the inflewenzy lets me. I may. It means money in my
pocket, and, not having a sitivation for months, I want money."
"What have you to say?" demanded Claudia, sternly.
"Say? The truth!" snarled Mrs. Vence, crossly. "And don't arsk me to
say anything else, I beg, my mother having bin a Baptist and perticler
proper."
"What is the truth?"
"Well, your par was in the droring-room with the barnit when he come,
and I crep up to listen to what they was saying, as I don't hold with
folk heving secrets fro' me. I had my eye and my ear at the keyhole
time and time about."
"What did you hear? What did you see?"
"I heard my master explaining as he couldn't marry you 'cause he was
married already. Then your par guv a screech and swore awful. I peeped
in at the keyhole, and saw him take out a clasp-knife and run at the
old man. The barnit, he just laughed and waited, so your par didn't
know what to do. Then at that moment come the ring at the door. I
tumbled down the stairs and let in that gent as bolted on the bike
later."
"Do you know who he was?" asked Claudia, anxiously.
"No, I didn't, him being muffled up," growled Mrs. Vence.
"What happened then?" asked Claudia, quickly.
"What I said at the inquest. Sir Hector, he took the new gent into his
study, and told me to bring cake and wine in a quarter of an hour. I
said I was in the kitchen, but," said Mrs. Vence, with a leer, "I
wasn't there the whole time. Oh, no, bless you. I wanted to see what
it all meant!"
"And you listened?"
"I listened and looked," retorted the housekeeper, shamelessly. "My
master and the new gent talked about some will, and then the barnit
took the gent into the dining-room to show him some papers. Then,"
said Mrs. Vence, earnestly, "I saw that par of yours coming down the
stairs; with the clasp-knife open in his hand, looking savage-like. I
was so feared that I ran back to the kitchen just as I heard Sir
Hector returning to the study. Then I comes in with the cake and wine
some time later, and found my master lying dead on the rug, and the
gent as bolted on the bike bending over him."
"And my father?" faltered Claudia, with a sinking heart. "Oh, he got
back up the stairs, and didn't come down until that there postman and
the police came. Clever, he was. But he didn't know as I'd seen him
coming down to stick the old man. You know, miss, how the post come,
and how the gent opened the door?"
"Yes, yes; I know." Claudia rose with an effort. "All you say sounds
reasonable, enough, from your point of view."
"It'll be the same fro' the jury's point of view," snapped Mrs. Vence.
"I don't believe it," cried Miss Lemby in despair. "Whatever you may
say, my father is innocent. You didn't see him strike the blow."
"But he comed down the stairs with the knife," grinned the
housekeeper. "Oh, he did it right enuff--your par, I mean. I believe
that boy saw it, too."
"What boy? Do you mean Neddy Mellin?"
"Yus. He was in the house--in the kitchen with me."
"But he said he came with the washing later."
"Then he's a liar," said Mrs. Vence, morosely. "He come earlier, and
was keeping me company in the kitchen. An imp, he is; not as you knows
him, miss."
"I know him very well," said Claudia, secretly glad to hear that the
boy had been on the scene, as his evidence would be valuable. "He is a
great friend of mine. I shall see him and make him tell me
everything."
"He won't; he won't," said Mrs. Vence, hurriedly, and appeared to be
somewhat discomposed, as if she feared she had let out too much.
"Oh, yes, he will, Mrs. Vence. I saw him the other day, and he
half-promised to tell me the truth. I'm going now."
"Pity you ever came," snarled the old woman, restlessly. "You're only
bringing your par to the gallers. If you speak to that imp, he'll put
a rope round the neck of your par for sure."
"Neddy will do nothing to harm me and mine, as he is fond of me."
"Oh, is he? Then he'll hev to tell lies to save your par."
Claudia hesitated at the door. "I tell you what, Mrs. Vence," she
said. "When you come to Maranatha I shall got my father and Mr. Craver
to meet you and Lady Wyke and Neddy. Then we can thresh the matter
out."
"You'd better bring that Sergeant Purse also," taunted Mrs. Vence, "as
he'll be on the spot to gaol that par of yours. Git on; git out.
You've worrited me with your cussed nonsense."
Claudia, having executed her purpose, left the woman still coughing,
and swiftly ran down the stairs. At the end of the narrow street, and
when she emerged into the main thoroughfare, she hailed a taxi.
Shortly she was driving towards Earl's Court, anxiously considering
what was best to be done. It was a very pale-faced girl who entered
the tiny drawing-room in the Tenby Mansions flat. Mr. Oliver Lemby was
there stretched at length in his favourite chair, and smoking his big
pipe. He looked unkempt and uncivilised, while the room had a
neglected look. Claudia felt as though she was entering into the den
of a bear, and the growl with which Lemby received her aided the
illusion. But that Edwin was sitting in an adjacent chair and was
ready to support her, Claudia would probably have burst into tears
over this reception. What with the wear and tear of the last week, and
the trying interview with Mrs. Vence, her nerves were worn thin. She
felt that she could not bear much more strain on them.
"Well, my gal," roared The pirate, "you've making a nice hash of
things."
"Don't talk like that to Claudia, Lemby," said Edwin, sternly, as the
girl sank exhausted in a chair. "Don't you see she is worn out."
"I shall talk to my own daughter as I please, hang you!"
"No you won't! Claudia is engaged to me, and I shall protect her, let
me tell you, Lemby, that your position is not so safe that you can
afford to go on in this way."
"My position is as safe as yours," growled the buccaneer.
"That isn't saying much," replied Craver, with a shrug. "I am in a
difficult position also. I have explained to you that I was in the
house."
"Yes; and I believe you scragged the old man."
"Mrs. Vence says it was you, father," said Claudia, faintly. Lemby
rose and dashed his pipe to the ground, opening and shutting his hands
in ungovernable rage. "Where is the old wretch?" he shouted. "Only let
me got a grip of her and I'll send her to kingdom come."
"Claudia, you are quite faint. Don't say another word for a few
minutes, and drink this glass of wine, it will revive you."
"Thank you, Edwin." Claudia willingly accepted the offer and sipped
the port, while her father strode up and down the room like a caged
beast, cursing and storming, and generally conducting himself like a
wild man of the woods. Edwin sat beside Claudia and attended to the
girl, occasionally glancing at the buccaneer with a contemptuous
smile. The sight of this somewhat calmed Lemby, who became ashamed of
his want of self-control. With a final oath he flung himself into his
chair and sulkily demanded what was to be done. Since his daughter was
still too upset to speak, Edwin spoke for her.
"Let us hear Claudia's report of her interview with Mrs. Vence," he
suggested.
The wine did Claudia good, and shortly she felt much more like her
ordinary self. Without wasting further time she related tersely what
had passed between herself and the housekeeper, Edwin listened
attentively without making any remark; but Lemby growled and cursed
under his breath the whole time. "Before I left," concluded Claudia,
"I suggested that dad and Edwin and I should meet Lady Wyke, Mrs.
Vence, and Neddy at Maranatha to come to an understanding. Mrs. Vence
goes down to Hedgerton at the end of the week."
"I'll go, too," cried the pirate, rising to again stalk up and down
the room. "Do you think that I'm going to have these lies told about
me?"
"Are they lies?" asked Edwin, quietly.
Lemby hesitated, "The most part are lies," he said, sulkily.
"And what part is the truth?"
"That about my drawing my knife on Wyke," admitted Lemby, after a
pause. "I did get in a rage when Wyke told me that he was already
married, and I did take out my knife to frighten him. But I didn't
mean a dashed thing, you know, as it ain't my way to kill silly old
buffers. 'Sides, he'd pluck, he had, as he stood quite still when I
made a run at him, and only laughed."
"So Mrs. Vence said, dad."
"Well, she told the truth for once. I was in a rage, but I couldn't
hit a man who stood up to me unarmed. I'm a white man, I am."
"You said at the inquest that Wyke did not explain anything to you in
the drawing-room," said Edwin, refusing to endorse Lemby's good
opinion of himself. "Yes, I did--and for why? Wyke waited till I
cooled down and took the knife from me, still laughing. Then came the
ring at the door. He was in a hurry to see you, Craver, I expect, for
he blamed well bolted down the stairs and forgot to lay down my
knife."
"He took it with him?" gasped Claudia, leaning forward.
"Don't I say he did?" growled her amiable parent. "Yes, he took the
knife with him, being in such a hurry. I didn't leave the drawing-room
for ever so long, and Mrs. Vence is a liar in saying that I did. I
waited until I heard voices, then came down and found that the old man
had passed in his cheques. When I saw it was my knife sticking in his
blessed old heart I made up my mind to say as little as I could. And
that," ended Lemby, turning towards Edwin, "was the reason as I lied
about his making explanations in the drawing-room. What else could I
do?"
"Nothing," said Craver, promptly; "being innocent, there was no need
for you to incriminate yourself. This is the truth, I suppose?"
"Yes it is. Why should I tell lies."
"Well, you did, you know, at the inquest. Anyhow, we have your story
and the housekeeper's story. Now we must learn what Neddy Mellin has
to say."
"I am sure that the boy knows the truth," said Claudia, positively.
"Mrs. Vence admitted that he was in the kitchen all the time. She
seemed sorry that she told me so."
"I daresay," remarked Edwin, "she has said too much. Well, Lemby?"
"I'll come down to Hedgerton with you," said the pirate, promptly.
And in this practical way the matter was settled.