"I don't want fine ladies to come and see me, drat you," grumbled the old creature, crossly. "I'm ill with inflewinzy, I am, and I do hope as you'll get it."
Claudia smiled at this amiable wish, and apologised. "I am sorry you are ill, Mrs. Vence. But I have called--"
"About gitting me to look arter your house?" interrupted Mrs. Vence. "Well, then, I can't, me being that ill as never was."
"No. Don't you know my name? I gave it to the landlady. Lemby is--"
"Ho!" Mrs. Vance coughed and stared and grunted after her scrutiny. "So you're his daughter, are you?"
"I am the daughter of Mr. Oliver Lemby, if you mean that," said Claudia, with dignity, "and I have called to----"
"Ho!" Mrs. Vence coughed and for the third time. "I know why you've called, my lady. And it 'ud hev been better if you didn't hev called."
"Why?" Claudia was startled.
"'Cause I thought as every think was dead and done with about that murder. I hev 'ad it on my nerves day and night, wondering if I should speak or not."
"Speak?" The girl rose and turned white with emotion. "My father----"