Claude looked nonplussed, and knew not what answer to make. That his mother had made two different statements he was compelled to admit. He further remembered that his father had made no statement whatsoever about the dagger. Yet on the possession of that dagger turned the whole of the case. Whoever picked it up, whether at the ball or in the sitting room, must have killed Jeringham. Assuming his father's account to be true, and Claude saw no reason to doubt its accuracy, Mona could not have committed the murder, nor could Mr. or Mrs. Larcher be guilty. It therefore followed that his mother had spoken truly to the police, and for some inexplicable reason falsely to him. The dagger must have been lost at the ball, and picked up by--whom? "I can make nothing of it," he said, after due consideration. "The only way to get at the truth is to tell my father that his wife still lives, and bring them together. Out of their meeting good may come." "You will then call and see your father," said Tait encouragingly. "Yes. I must. I see no way out of it. He must be informed that my mother lives, and I am the proper person to tell him so. Though it is strange," added Claude suddenly, "that Hilliston never told him." "Humph! That gentleman seems to serve both sides," said Tait gruffly. "Your mother speaks well of him, your father thinks no end of him, and both trust him, yet for what I can see he has deceived both." "How?" "Why, by keeping back the truth from each. He has let your father think your mother dead, and _vice versa_. What do you make of that?" "I tell you I can make nothing of the whole confusion," said Claude crossly. "I will see my father and abandon the case, for I am sick of the affair. It is maddening. What a pity your lunatic did not wake up a few minutes earlier so as to see who struck the blow and thus have settled the matter? But it is not that which troubles me." "No? What else disturbs your mind?" "Jenny." "Jenny?" echoed Tait, with feigned simplicity. "I am afraid I am dull. I don't see." "You must be blind, then," retorted Claude, in an exasperated tone. "You know I love Jenny." "Well?" "Well, I can't love her. She is my half sister." "Indeed!" said Tait, in nowise astonished at this announcement. "How do you make that out?" "Why, isn't Jenny the daughter of Paynton, and isn't he my father?" "He is your father, certainly, but I assure you Jenny is not his daughter. She is no relation to him." "Tait! what do you mean?" "Can't you guess?" "No. Out with it, man! Don't keep me in suspense." "Why," drawled Tait, enjoying the situation. "Jenny is the niece of Denis--in other words, she is the child of Mona Bantry and Jeringham." CHAPTER XXXIX. THE GARNET SCARFPIN.