"But Mrs. Munday . . ."
"I had forgotten her name. I sent it to the Grammar School."
Lewisham suppressed an exclamation.
"I am very sorry," she said.
They went on again in silence. "Last night," said Lewisham at length. "I have no business to ask. But—"
She took a long breath. "Mr. Lewisham," she said. "That man you saw—the Medium—was my stepfather."
"Well?"
"Isn't that enough?"
Lewisham paused. "No," he said.
There was another constrained silence. "No," he said less dubiously. "I don't care a rap what your stepfather is. Were you cheating?"
Her face turned white. Her mouth opened and closed. "Mr. Lewisham," she said deliberately, "you may not believe it, it may sound impossible, but on my honour . . . I did not know—I did not know for certain, that is—that my stepfather . . ."
"Ah!" said Lewisham, leaping at conviction. "Then I was right . . ."
For a moment she stared at him, and then, "I did know," she said, suddenly beginning to cry. "How can I tell you? It is a lie. I did know. I did know all the time."
