Mallow put his hands to his head quite bewildered by the information.

“You must give me time to think,” he said, “but if I consent—­”

“You marry Miss Saxon.  I ask no reward for my services.  All I want is to get you out of my way as regards Maraquito.  I will give you the forged check on the day you wed Miss Saxon.  I can see,” added Hale, rising, “that you are somewhat upset with this news, and no wonder.  You never thought Basil was such a scoundrel.”

“I thought him a fool, never a knave.”

“My dear sir, he is a thoroughly bad man,” said Hale cynically, “though I daresay other people are just as bad.  However, I will give you a week to think over the matter.  Good-night.”

“Good-night,” said Mallow, touching the bell, but without meeting the gaze of Hale, “I will think over what you have said.”

“You will find it to your advantage to do so,” replied Hale, and went out of the room at the heels of the servant.

Mallow remained where he was in deep thought.  It was terrible to think that the brother of Juliet should be such a scamp.  A forger and perhaps something else.  Here, indeed, was a motive for Miss Loach to meet with her death at her nephew’s hand.  Probably on the night in question she threatened to let the law take its course, and then Basil—­but at this point of his meditations a ring came at the door.  In a few moments Cuthbert heard a step he knew and rose with an agitated air.  Basil entered the room.

The young man was carefully dressed as usual in his rather affected way, but his face was pale and he seemed uneasy.  “I see you have had a visit from Hale,” he said, trying to appear at his ease.

“How do you know that?” asked Mallow abruptly, and declining to see the proffered hand.

“I saw Hale enter a cab as I came up the stairs,” said Basil, drawing back; “and even had I not seen him I would know that he has been telling you a lot of lies because you refuse to shake hands.”

“Are they lies?”

“Ah, then, he has been talking.  He is my enemy.  He comes here to do me harm,” said Basil, his eyes flashing.

“He came here as your friend,” replied Mallow abruptly, “Hale wishes me to marry your sister.  He offers to hand over to me a certain check if I marry her.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” cried Basil petulantly, and threw himself into a chair, very pale.

“I think you know very well.  Why have you come here?”

Basil looked sullen.  “I want you to marry Juliet also.  And I came to say that I thought I could get my mother to take that money and to withdraw her opposition.”

“So that you may have the fingering of the money?”

“Oh, I suppose she will give me some,” said Basil airily, and began to roll a cigarette with deft fingers.

Mallow was enraged at this coolness.  “Basil, you are a scoundrel!”