"He's certain to. But I'll run away and become a governess. Oh, here's Jane." She swept some papers off the bamboo table and helped to lay the cloth and adjust the tea-things. "Thank you, Jane. I shan't want anything more." "I don't like the idea of your being a governess," said Edwin, who had been carefully considering the proposition while the parlourmaid was present, and argued about it now that she was gone. "You are too handsome to be a governess." "And not clever enough, you might add," retorted Claudia, pouring out the tea; "but I must do something. Dad worries and worries and worries. He wants to return to the South Seas to make more money, and insists that I shall go with him." "Oh, Claudia!" Craver dropped the piece of bread and butter he had picked up. "Oh, Claudia!" "It's all very well saying, 'Oh, Claudia'; but facts have to be faced. And very uncomfortable facts, too, now that I am coming to them." "Coming to what?" "To the facts which upset me," Claudia pushed back her chair, and leant her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand. "Edwin, what do you know about this dreadful murder of Sir Hector?" Craver started so violently that he spilt his tea and had to set the cup down in a hurry. "Good heavens, Claudia, what do you mean?" "What I say. I speak plainly enough don't I?" "What should I know about the murder except what I read in the newspapers?" was Craver's reluctant reply. "Because it took place in my father's parish that does not mean my having anything to do with it." "I never suggested your having," said Claudia, in a cross tone. "How you do jump to conclusions. But dad was in the house when Sir Hector was killed." "Yes. Upstairs in the drawing-room. He came down when----" "When the crime was committed. Mrs. Vence and the policeman said that Sir Hector was dead before dad appeared in the study." "Yes. So I read in the report of the inquest proceedings. Well?" "Well if that is the case dad is innocent." Craver stared. When Claudia first broached the unpleasant subject he had turned pale, but now the colour was slowly creeping back into his sunburnt face. "Of course, Mr. Lemby is innocent," he said, after a pause. "There never was any question of his having anything to do with the death." "Sir Hector was rich," said Claudia, in apparently an irrelevant manner. Craver nodded, wondering what she meant. "Five thousand a year according to the gossip of the newspapers." "Well," continued the girl, "dad is poor, and wants money. He hoped to get it by making me marry Sir Hector. But as I did not become Lady and as I never can be owing to the death, dad is in a hole." "My dear Claudia, I really don't know what you mean?" "I'm just coming to the point now," said the girl, nervously, and her lips quivered. "You know that dad went down to ask Sir Hector why he had postponed the marriage?" "Yes. Did he receive an explanation?"