"I can make nothing of it," he said, after due consideration. "The only way to get at the truth is to tell my father that his wife still lives, and bring them together. Out of their meeting good may come."
"You will then call and see your father," said Tait encouragingly.
"Yes. I must. I see no way out of it. He must be informed that my mother lives, and I am the proper person to tell him so. Though it is strange," added Claude suddenly, "that Hilliston never told him."
"Humph! That gentleman seems to serve both sides," said Tait gruffly. "Your mother speaks well of him, your father thinks no end of him, and both trust him, yet for what I can see he has deceived both."
"How?"
"Why, by keeping back the truth from each. He has let your father think your mother dead, and vice versa. What do you make of that?"
"I tell you I can make nothing of the whole confusion," said Claude crossly. "I will see my father and abandon the case, for I am sick of the affair. It is maddening. What a pity your lunatic did not wake up a few minutes earlier so as to see who struck the blow and thus have settled the matter? But it is not that which troubles me."
"No? What else disturbs your mind?"
"Jenny."
"Jenny?" echoed Tait, with feigned simplicity. "I am afraid I am dull. I don't see."