Mr. Kane grunted, and struck a match. "I should have thought we'd had enough murders in the family, I must say.
"Too true. Not that this one can be said to be in the family."
Pressing the glowing tobacco down into the bowl of his pipe with his thumb, Jim Kane glanced shrewdly across at his young relative. "Got more than a casual interest in it, haven't you?" he asked.
"Yes," responded Timothy coolly. "I have. The girl I propose to marry is, like myself, one of those who might have committed the murder."
Mr. James Kane was still busy with his pipe. Puffs of smoke arose from it. "So that's serious, is it? I heard something about it from Mother."
"Did she tell you it was your duty to come and reason with me?" asked Timothy, unscrewing another bottle of beer. "Beulah didn't go big with her at all, I'm afraid."
Jim accepted the glass that was handed to him, and set it down on the mantelshelf behind him. "No, she didn't. Far from it, but don't run away with the idea that I swallow all Mother says without a tablespoonful of salt, because I know Mother rather better than you do, and that isn't one of the errors I fall into! All the same, are you quite sure you aren't making a mistake, old son?"
"Quite sure," said Timothy.
These simple words made it difficult to continue the conversation, but Jim tried his best. "Silly question to have asked you. What I mean is, don't go and do something you'll regret for the rest of your life!"
"All right, I won't."