Lemby hesitated, "The most part are lies," he said, sulkily.
"And what part is the truth?"
"That about my drawing my knife on Wyke," admitted Lemby, after a pause. "I did get in a rage when Wyke told me that he was already married, and I did take out my knife to frighten him. But I didn't mean a dashed thing, you know, as it ain't my way to kill silly old buffers. 'Sides, he'd pluck, he had, as he stood quite still when I made a run at him, and only laughed."
"So Mrs. Vence said, dad."
"Well, she told the truth for once. I was in a rage, but I couldn't hit a man who stood up to me unarmed. I'm a white man, I am."
"You said at the inquest that Wyke did not explain anything to you in the drawing-room," said Edwin, refusing to endorse Lemby's good opinion of himself. "Yes, I did--and for why? Wyke waited till I cooled down and took the knife from me, still laughing. Then came the ring at the door. He was in a hurry to see you, Craver, I expect, for he blamed well bolted down the stairs and forgot to lay down my knife."
"He took it with him?" gasped Claudia, leaning forward.
"Don't I say he did?" growled her amiable parent. "Yes, he took the knife with him, being in such a hurry. I didn't leave the drawing-room for ever so long, and Mrs. Vence is a liar in saying that I did. I waited until I heard voices, then came down and found that the old man had passed in his cheques. When I saw it was my knife sticking in his blessed old heart I made up my mind to say as little as I could. And that," ended Lemby, turning towards Edwin, "was the reason as I lied about his making explanations in the drawing-room. What else could I do?"
"Nothing," said Craver, promptly; "being innocent, there was no need for you to incriminate yourself. This is the truth, I suppose?"
"Yes it is. Why should I tell lies."