"Something I wanted to know."
"Perhaps I can tell you what you want to know?"
"I shouldn't wonder. No: dipping the cake in lemonade doesn't improve it, and it leaves crumbs in the drink."
"Throw away that bit of cake, Jack, and have some more.
"May I help myself?"
"Certainly. But you haven't told me yet what you want to know."
At last he answered directly. "What I want to know is this," he said. "Who poisoned Mr. Keller?"
He was cutting the cake as he spoke, and extracted a piece of candied orange peel with the point of the knife. Once more, the widow's face had escaped observation. She turned away quickly, and occupied herself in mending the fire. In this position, her back was turned towards the table—she could trust herself to speak.
"You are talking nonsense!" she said.
Jack stopped—with the cake half-way to his mouth. Here was a direct attack on his dignity, and he was not disposed to put up with it. "I never talk nonsense," he answered sharply.