Wynne, he has!' And
that's all I 'ave to say, sir."
"And a damned sight too much, too, you liar!" threw in Merriton,
furiously, his face convulsed with passion, the veins on his temple
standing out like whipcords. "Why, the whole story's a fake. And if it
_were_ true, tell me how I could get Wynne's body out of the way so
quickly, and without any one hearing me, when every man in that smoking
room, from their own words, and from those of the doctor here, was
at that moment straining his ears for any possible sound? The smoking
room flanks straight on the drive, Mr.--er--Headland--" He caught himself
up just in time as he saw Cleek's almost imperceptible signal, and then
went on, his voice gaining in strength and fury with every word: "I'm not
a giant, am I? I couldn't have lifted Wynne _alive_ and with his own
assistance, much less lift him dead when he'd be a good sight heavier.
Why, the thing's a tissue of lies, I tell you--a beastly, underhanded,
backbiting tissue of lies, and if ever I get out of this thing alive,
I'll show Borkins exactly what I think of him.
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