“Did you not tell her what you have told me?”

“I did not.  What was the use?  It was because of my discovery of the knife and seeing you, and receiving that letter, that I refused to marry, and so fell in with my mother’s plans.”

“Juliet, you are not engaged to Arkwright?”

“No.  I am engaged to you and you only.  I mean I only pretended that I would not marry you.  My mother thought I was obeying her, but I was really shielding you on account of that letter.”

“Give me the letter, love, and I’ll show it to Jennings.”

“No,” said Miss Saxon, shrinking back; “get him to drop the case.”

“Why?” asked Cuthbert dryly.  “I could understand that request when you thought me guilty, but now that you know I am innocent, and that Jennings is aware I was at Rose Cottage on that night, surely there is no bar to his proceeding with the case.”

“I do not wish it,” faltered Juliet.

Cuthbert looked at her steadily and turned away with a sigh.  “You are keeping something from me,” he said.

“And you from me,” she retorted.  “Why did you start when I spoke of the overcoat?”

“Juliet, my own,” Cuthbert took her hands earnestly, “there are circumstances in this case which are very strange.  Innocent persons may be sacrificed.  It is best for you and me to have nothing more to do with the matter.  Miss Loach is dead.  Who killed her will never be known.  Let us marry, dear heart, and leave the case alone.”

“I am quite willing.  But my mother?”

“I shall persuade her to consent.”

“I hope so; but I fear she hates you because you are Lord Caranby’s nephew.  She hinted as much.  I don’t know the reason.”

“I do,” said Mallow calmly, “and I think I may be able to persuade her to see reason.  I shall meddle no more with the case.”

“What about Mr. Jennings?”

“I will tell him what I have told you, and what you have told me.  Then I will point out the futility of looking for a needle in a haystack.  He may be inclined to let the case drop.  He ought to be weary of it by this time.”

Juliet looked wistfully at him.  “Can’t we be plain with one another?”

“No,” said Mallow, shaking his head, “you have your suspicions and I mine.  Let us refrain from talking about the matter.”

Miss Saxon drew a breath of relief.  “I think that is best,” she said, and her expression was reflected in the eyes of her lover.  “When will you come and see mother?”

“Next week.  If her objection is a question of money, you can hand over the whole of that income you have inherited.”

“Aunt Selina’s six thousand a year!  Why?”

“Because I have enough money for us both, and when Caranby dies I shall be almost a millionaire.  I don’t like you having this money.”

“But your reason?”

“I have none that I can tell you.  Besides, if we can buy Mrs. Octagon’s consent with even six thousand a year—­”