"I set no store by worldly honours," said Glass gloomily. "Man being in honour abideth not: he is like the beasts that perish."
"What you do want," declared the Sergeant with asperity, "is a course of Bile Beans! I've met some killjoys in my time, but you fairly take the cake. What did you get out of your friend the butler?"
"He knows nothing."
"Don't you believe it! Butlers always know something."
"It is not so. He knows only that harsh words passed between the dead man and his nephew on the evening of the murder."
"Young Neville explained that," said the Sergeant musingly. "Not that I set much store by what he says. Pack of lies, I daresay."
"A lying tongue is but for the moment," observed Glass, with melancholy satisfaction.
"You can't have been about the world much if that's what you think. Do you still hold to it that the man you saw on the night of the murder wasn't carrying anything?"
"You would have me change my evidence," said Glass, fixing him with an accusing glare, "but I tell you that a man that beareth false witness is a maul, and a sword, and a sharp arrow!"
"No one wants you to bear false witness," said the Sergeant irritably. "And as far as I'm concerned, you're a sharp arrow already, and probably a maul as well, if a maul means what I think it does. I've had to tell you off once already for giving me lip, and I've had about enough of it. Wait a bit!" He stopped short in the middle of the pavement and pulled out his notebook, and hastily thumbed over the leaves. "You wait!" he said darkly. "I've got something here that I copied out specially. I knew it would come in useful. Yes, here we are! He that being often reproved hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed." He looked up to see how this counter-blast was being received, and added with profound satisfaction: "And that without remedy!"