“Then the closing of the door was a trick,” said Juliet in an agitated tone.  “I might have guessed that.  He took the knife.  He has threatened to arrest you, so Miss Garthorne says.”

“She says rightly,” replied Mallow, thinking it best to make use of all he knew, so as to force her to speak freely.  “But of course, if you can explain—­”

“Explain!” she cried wildly and sinking into a chair.  “What can I explain?  That I saw you climbing that wall, running away apparently from the scene of your crime.  That I found the knife by the body?”

“What!” Cuthbert started up and looked at her.  “You saw the body?”

“Yes.  I was in the house—­in the room.  I found my aunt dead in her chair, with the cards on her lap, exactly as the parlor-maid saw her.  Near her on the floor was the knife.  There was blood on the blade.  I picked it up—­I saw the handle was notched in three places, and then—­”

“Then you suspected me.”

“No.  Not till I saw you outside.”

Cuthbert took a turn up and down the dais much perplexed.  “Juliet,” he said.  “I swear to you I never killed this woman.”

Juliet flew to him and folded him in her arms.  “I knew it—­ I knew it,” she said, “in spite of the letter—­”

“What letter?”

“That accusing you and threatening to tell the police about you if I did not break the engagement.”

“Who wrote it?”

“I can’t say, save that it must have been some enemy.”

“Naturally,” replied Mallow cynically.  “A friend does not write in that way.  Have you the letter with you.”

“No.  It is at home.  I never thought of bringing it.  But I will show it to you soon.  I wish now I had spoken before.”

“I wish to heaven you had!”

“I thought it best to be silent,” said Juliet, trying to argue.  “I feared lest if I spoke to you, this enemy, whosoever he is, might carry out the threat in the letter.”

“Is the letter written by a man or a woman?”

“I can’t say.  Women write in so masculine a way nowadays.  It might be either.  But why were you at the cottage—­”

“I was not.  I went to explore the unfinished house on behalf of Lord Caranby.  I was ghost-hunting.  Do you remember how you asked me next day why I wore an overcoat and I explained that I had a cold—­”

“Yes.  You said you got it from sitting in a hot room.”

“I got it from hunting round the unfinished house at Rexton.  I did not think it necessary to explain further.”

Juliet put her hand to her head.  “Oh, how I suffered on that day,” she said.  “I was watching for you all the afternoon.  When you came I thought you might voluntarily explain why you were at Rexton on the previous night.  But you did not, and I believed your silence to be a guilty one.  Then, when the letter arrived—­”

“When did it arrive?”