"I don't want fine ladies to come and see me, drat you," grumbled the old creature, crossly. "I'm ill with inflewinzy, I am, and I do hope as you'll get it." Claudia smiled at this amiable wish, and apologised. "I am sorry you are ill, Mrs. Vence. But I have called--" "About gitting me to look arter your house?" interrupted Mrs. Vence. "Well, then, I can't, me being that ill as never was." "No. Don't you know my name? I gave it to the landlady. Lemby is--" "Ho!" Mrs. Vance coughed and stared and grunted after her scrutiny. "So you're his daughter, are you?" "I am the daughter of Mr. Oliver Lemby, if you mean that," said Claudia, with dignity, "and I have called to----" "Ho!" Mrs. Vence coughed and for the third time. "I know why you've called, my lady. And it 'ud hev been better if you didn't hev called." "Why?" Claudia was startled. "'Cause I thought as every think was dead and done with about that murder. I hev 'ad it on my nerves day and night, wondering if I should speak or not." "Speak?" The girl rose and turned white with emotion. "My father----" "Yuss," said Mrs. Vence with relish, "your dear par murdered him sure enough." CHAPTER XXI. "That's a lie," said Claudia, calmly, and without rising. Mrs. Vence spluttered and shook with wrath, in her rage it seemed as though she were about to rise up and denounce her visitor. But a fit of coughing prevented her, and by the time it was over she felt too weak to scold. "It's the truth," she muttered sulkily, and took a wineglassful of medicine. "Prove it!" Claudia, who had entered the room anxious and perturbed, was now quite calm in asking questions. Mrs. Vence was patently surprised to see how quietly the girl took the dreadful charge. "You don't seem much upset!" she croaked. "I thought you loved that par of yours, as a gel should." "I do love my father," was Miss Lemby's steady reply, "and for that reason I decline to believe what you say." "Then why come here to worrit me?" gasped the old woman, crossly. "Ain't I got enuff to put up with at my age without silly gels coming to tell me as I'm a liar. I can't say nothin' else." "You can; you must. My father explained his movements at the inquest, and his testimony was accepted as exonerating him. And let me remind you. Mrs. Vence, that at the inquest you brought no charge against him." "'Cause I warn't certain," retorted the old woman, promptly. "'Twas a nasty case, and I didn't want to be mixed up in it more'n I could help. I said as little as I could, and afterwards, when that Lady Wyke come and see me---- "Did she come and see you?" interposed Claudia, anxiously. "Don't I say she did, cuss you?" growled Mrs. Vence hoarsely. "Of course she come and see me, to arsk if I know'd of anything likely to show who killed her old man. I told her what I told you, and she said as I'd better keep silent till she wanted me." "She intended to accuse my father, then?"