To the journalist's surprise, Lester put the same question to him as he had put to Drek. "How do you know the criminal is a man?" asked the doctor.
"I did not say so."
"You said murderer; if you had ascribed the crime to a woman you would have used the more correct word, murderess."
"I think not, doctor; I am no purist. But what do you mean by such a speech, sir? Do you know who killed your daughter?"
"No!" Lester looked confused. "Good Lord, Mexton! how should I know?" he burst out. "If I did--if I did----"
"Well?" cried Mexton, impatiently, "if you did----?"
"I want some more brandy," said Lester, with a vacant look.
Paul was about to reply with some sharpness when he felt a light touch on his arm. It was Iris who had attracted his attention; and she had just entered quietly by the door. Her face was pallid as that of a corpse, her eyes were red and swollen with weeping, and she looked not at Mexton, but at the miserable creature who was her step-father. The expression in her eyes was one of mingled terror and repugnance.
"Don't speak to him any more, Paul," she said, hurriedly; "he is not in a condition to answer questions."
Mexton glanced at Lester, expecting him to make some defence; but the man was rapidly lapsing into a comatose condition. Without another word, he submitted to the pressure on his arm, and was drawn out of the room by Iris. In the passage she stopped and withdrew her hand.