"He isn't in love with her. I never said so. She is in love with him. As to letting her marry him, she shan't! You are cruel to suggest such a thing."
Lemby clutched his head. "Dash it, things are so crooked that I must straighten them out somehow by suggesting," he said, angrily. "And if this young jackaroo is trying to spoil my plans again, I'll make it hot for him. Upon my word, Claudia, I think it best that you should marry the fellow, so that I may be able to make Lady Wyke my wife and collar the dibs."
"She won't have you, dad."
"Oh, yes, she will." Lemby glanced at the nearest mirror, and admired his big body, his black hair, his stalwart looks and general virility. "I may as well tell you that I met her when she came downstairs after seeing you, and I took her to a teashop to have a talk. We got on famously."
"Did she tell you that she suspected you of committing the murder?" asked Claudia, acidly, and not approving of this escapade.
"No, she didn't. If she had I'd have brought her to her senses."
"You'll never do that. She's too clever for you, dad."
Claudia had just uttered this remark in a very positive way when Jane, the parlourmaid, showed young Craver into the drawing-room. Lemby was by no means so pleased to see him as Claudia was, and looked at their greeting glumly. He was quite annoyed when he heard that his daughter had summoned this inconvenient third by telegram. Edwin, who looked smart and well-groomed in evening dress, nodded coolly to his prospective father-in-law and sat down. Then Lemby could contain himself no longer.
"What the deuce do you mean by treating me as nothing in my own house?" he demanded, clenching his big fists with a truculent air.
"I apologise if I have treated you impolitely," said Edwin, raising his eyebrows; "but as you have never shaken hands with me, or bid me welcome; I do not see what you expect me to do."