"I don't know. How should I know?"
"Because you murdered him. It was you who escaped on that bicycle, Mr. Craver, and it was you who stabbed Sir Hector in this very house."
[CHAPTER XV.]
Lady Wyke's sudden accusation of murder came like a bolt from the blue, and so stunned Craver that he had not a word to say. While he sat silent in the deep armchair, as white and cold and motionless as any corpse, she touched the bell-button and ordered the footman who appeared to bring in tea immediately, The footman arranged the tea-table near the fire, and Lady Wyke sat down to attend to her hospitable duties.
"Sugar, Mr. Craver?" she asked, when the tea was poured out.
If she could be composed so could he.
"Thank you. Two lumps," he said, and bent forward to accept the cup.
"You take it very well," said Lady Wyke, approvingly. "But then I know you have plenty of courage. All aviators must be courageous, and you are very successful I hear. I wonder if you would take me for a flight one day?"
"Would you risk one with me?" asked Craver.
Lady Wyke laughed, settled herself amongst the cushions of the sofa, and stirred her tea. "Oh, you mean that you might be inclined to tip me out of the machine," she observed, looking at him straightly. "Very naturally you should, seeing what I know. Still, I am willing to risk a flight."