LITMIR.BIZ

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the Scotland Yard list. He may not deal with you so gently."

      "I don't care how he deals with me," returned Mallow, haughtily; "having done no wrong, I am not afraid. And, what is more, Jennings, I was coming to see you as soon as I returned. You have only forestalled our interview."

      "What did you wish to see me about?"

      "This case," said Cuthbert, getting out a box of cigarettes and touching the bell. "The deuce!" said Jennings briskly, "then you do know something?"

      Cuthbert handed him the box and gave an order for coffee. "Any liqueur?" he asked in friendly tones.

      "No. I never drink when on – ah – er – pleasure," said the other, substituting another word since the servant was in the room. "Well," he asked when the door closed, "why did you wish to see me?"

      "To ask if you remember a coining case that took place some twenty years ago?"

      "No. That was before my time. What case is it?"

      "Some people called Saul were mixed up in it."

      "Humph! Never heard of them," said Jennings, lighting his cigarette, "but it is strange you should talk of coining. I and several other fellows are looking for a set of coiners now. There are a lot of false coins circulating, and they are marvellously made. If I can only lay my hands on the coiners and their factory, there will be a sensation."

      "And your reputation will be enhanced."

      "I hope so," replied the detective, reddening. "I want a rise in my salary, as I wish to marry. By the way, how is Miss Saxon?"

      "Very well. You met her, did you not?"

      "Yes! You took me to that queer house. What do they call it? the – 'Shrine of the Muses' – where all the sham art exists. Why do you look so grave, old boy?"

      The two men, getting more confidential, were dropping into the language of school-days and speaking more familiarly. Mallow did not reply at once, as his servant had just brought in the coffee. But when each gentleman was supplied with a cup and they were again alone, he looked gravely at Miles. "I want to ask your advice," he said, "and if you are my friend – "

      "I am, of course I am."

      "Well, then, I am as interested in finding out who killed Miss Loach as you are."

      "Why is that?" demanded Jennings, puzzled.

      "Before I answer and make a clean breast of it, I should like you to promise that you will get no one I know into trouble."

      Jennings hesitated. "That is a difficult matter. Of course, if I find the assassin, even if he or she is one of your friends, I must do my duty."

      "Oh, I don't expect anything of that sort," said Mallow easily, "but why do you say 'he' or 'she'?"

      "Well, the person who killed Miss Loach might be a woman."

      "I don't see how you make that out," said Cuthbert reflectively. "I read the case coming up in the train to-day, and it seems to me from what The Planet says that the whole thing is a mystery."

      "One which I mean to dive into and discover," replied Miles. "I do not care for an ordinary murder case, but this is one after my own heart. It is a criminal problem which I should like to work out."

      "Do you see your way as yet?" asked Cuthbert.

      "No," confessed Jennings, "I do not. I saw the report you speak of. The writer theorizes without having facts to go on. What he says about the bell is absurd. All the same, the bell did ring and the assassin could not have escaped at the time it sounded. Nor could the deceased have rung it. Therein lies the mystery, and I can't guess how the business was managed."

      "Do you believe the assassin rang the bell?"

      Miles shrugged his shoulders and sipped his coffee. "It is impossible to say. I will wait until I have more facts before me before I venture an opinion. It is only in detective novels that the heaven-born Vidocq can guess the truth on a few stray clues. But what were you going to tell me?"

      "Will you keep what I say to yourself?"

      "Yes," said Jennings, readily enough, "so long as it doesn't mean the escape of the person who is guilty."

      "I don't ask you to betray the confidence placed in you by the authorities to that extent," said Mallow, "just wait a moment."

      He leaned his chin on his hand and thought. If he wished to gain the hand of Juliet, it was necessary he should clear up the mystery of the death. Unaided, he could not do so, but with the assistance of his old schoolfellow – following his lead in fact – he might get at the truth. Then, when the name of the assassin of her sister was known, the reason of Mrs. Octagon's strange behavior might be learned, and, moreover, the discovery might remove her objection. On the other hand, Cuthbert could not help feeling uneasy, lest Mrs. Octagon had some secret connected with the death which made her refuse her consent to the match, and which, if he explained to Jennings what he knew, might become known in a quarter which she might not approve of. However, Mallow was certain that, in spite of Mrs. Octagon's hint, his uncle had nothing to do with the matter, and he had already warned her – although she refused to listen – that he intended to trace the assassin. Under these circumstances, and also because Jennings was his friend and more likely to aid him, than get anyone he knew and respected into trouble, the young man made up his mind to tell everything.

      "The fact is, I am engaged to Juliet Saxon," he began, hesitatingly.

      "I know that. She is the daughter of that absurd Mrs. Octagon, with the meek husband and the fine opinion of herself."

      "Yes. But Juliet is the niece of Miss Loach."

      "What!" Jennings sprang from his chair with a look of surprise; "do you mean to tell me that Mrs. Octagon is Miss Loach's sister."

      "I do. They quarrelled many years ago, and have not been friendly for years. Mrs. Octagon would never go and see her sister, but she did not forbid her children being friendly. As you may guess, Mrs. Octagon is much distressed about the murder, but the strange thing is that she declares this death renders it impossible for me to marry her daughter."

      Jennings looked searchingly at his friend. "That is strange. Does she give no reason?"

      "No. But knowing my uncle knew her when she was a girl, I thought I would ask him what he thought. He told me that he had once been engaged to Miss Loach, and – "

      "Well, go on," said Miles, seeing Cuthbert hesitating.

      "There was another lady in the case."

      "There usually is," said Jennings dryly. "Well?"

      "The other lady's name was Saul – Emilia Saul."

      "Oh," Miles sat down again. He had remained standing for a few moments. "Saul was the name you mentioned in connection with the coining case of twenty years ago."

      Cuthbert nodded, and now, being fully convinced that he badly needed Jennings' aid, he told all that he had heard from Caranby, and detailed what his mother had said. Also, he touched on the speech of Mrs. Octagon, and repeated the warning he had given her. Miles listened quietly, but made no remark till his friend finished.

      "You have told me all you know?" he asked.

      "Yes. I want you to help me. Not that I think what I have learned has anything to do with the case."

      "I'm not so sure of that," said Jennings musingly, his eyes on the carpet. "Mrs. Octagon bases her refusal to allow the marriage on the fact of the death. However, you have warned her, and she must take the consequence."

      "But, my dear Jennings, you don't think she has anything to do with the matter. I assure you she is a good, kind woman – "

      "With a violent temper, according to your mother," finished Jennings dryly. "However, don't alarm yourself. I don't think she is guilty."

      "I should think not," cried Mallow, indignantly. "Juliet's mother!"

      "But she may have something to do with the matter all the same. However, you have been plain with me, and I will do all I can to help you. The first thing is for us to follow up the clue of the portrait."

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