"Hey! Hey! There's blood on the tines of my pitchfork," shouted Uncle Jim.
Beside him Aunt Maude went bright red. She knew all about the blood, of course, but she wasn't going to tell Jim whose blood it was. She wasn't going to propagate any more lies.
In fact, she realised, no one was going to tell Jim.
He'd have to find out for himself.
(From :'Seven Ways to Skin a Cat', by Raymond Foster, Pub. 1985 Simon and Sampleton, Liverpool)