“And you can say it and plume yourself upon having successfully traded on the lie?”
“Yes,” he said, with a recovering grin, “I think I can.”
I turned from him, sick at his mere presence.
“And now,” said he, “I intend to trade upon the truth.”
I forced myself to face round upon him again. “The boy,” he said, looking down hatefully and shifting some papers on the table with his finger-tips, “it was obvious to any but the merest ignoramus, never died of drowning.”
“How then?”
“From the appearances—of strangulation, I should say.”
“Strangulation? Who——”
“Do you want these trifles back? Ask your father first why he had Modred’s braces in his pocket the morning after? He was very drunk that night—furiously drunk; and he left me alone in the parlor for awhile.”