"Yes! I did not want you to know."
"Not only that, but you wished to make use of me. I was to prove your alibi, Eh? You chose this country for our walking tour on purpose?"
"I planned the whole thing," said Joyce shamelessly and with something of pleasure in his own cleverness. "You think yourself clever Herrick, but I, whom you have always despised, have made a tool of you."
"Up to a point you have no doubt. But there is a proverb about playing with edged tools, you seem to have forgotten. As to your saying that I despise you I never did so, until I found out--never mind how--that you had told me a lie about going to London from Southberry."
"It was my own business."
"And I was to be your tool, as you have just said. Go on."
Joyce thought for a moment. "As I have done nothing so very wrong," he said, "there is no reason why I should not tell you everything from the beginning. I suppose you will admit that."
"No reason at all. Go on."
"Very good. Well then until my mother died I had no idea of her position--nor," added Joyce, "have I any very clear idea now. She left a paper behind her which explained much, but not all. I will show it to you when you come up to London."
"Thank you; I will remind you of that promise."