"Oh, shut up! You make me sick," interrupted Lambert, suppressing a strong desire to choke his cousin. "You are as bad as Silver."
"And Silver is as innocent as Lord Garvington," struck in that gentleman, whose face was recovering its natural color.
Lambert turned on him sharply. "I don't agree with that. You shot Pine!"
Silver sprang up with a hysterical cry. He had judged like Agag that the bitterness of death was past, but found that he was not yet safe. "I did not shoot Pine," he declared, wringing his hands. "Oh, why can't you believe me."
"Because Garvington gave you the second revolver and with that—on the evidence of the bullet—Pine was murdered."
"That might be so, but—but—" Silver hesitated, and shivered and looked round with a hunted expression in his eyes.
"But what? You may as well explain to me."
"I shan't—I refuse to. I am innocent! You can't hurt me!"
Lambert brushed aside this puny rage. "Inspector Darby can. I shall go to Wanbury this evening and tell him all."
"No; don't do that!" cried Garvington, greatly agitated. "Think of me—think of the family!"