“Joan Haste,” he said, speaking quietly but with effort, “if you are going to talk in this way I think that we had better bring our interview to an end, as the conversation is painful to me. Once and for all I tell you, that if you are trying to get further information out of me you will fail.” “I have said my say, sir, and I shall ask you no more questions, except one; but none the less I believe that the truth will come out some time, for others must have known what you know, and perhaps after all my father had a conscience. I’m told that people often see things differently when they come to die, and he may have done so. The question that I want to ask, sir, if you will be so kind as to answer it, is: You knew my father, so I suppose that you knew my mother also, though she’s been dead these twenty years. How did she come by her death, sir? I have heard say that she was drowned, but nobody seems able to tell me any more about it.” “I believe that your mother was found dead beneath the cliff opposite the meres. How she came there is not known, but it is supposed that she missed her footing in the dark and fell over. The story of her drowning arose from her being found at high tide in the shallow water; but the medical evidence at the inquest showed that death had resulted from a fall, and not from suffocation.” “My poor mother!” said Joan, with a sigh. “She was unlucky all her life, it seems, so I dare say that she was well rid of it, and her death must have been good news to some. There’s only one thing I’m sorry for—that I wasn’t in her arms when she went over the edge of that cliff. And now, sir, about the business.”