“Am I, indeed?  Nice words to use to your future relative.”

“How do you know I will ever be your relative.  Suppose I refuse Hale’s demand, and let him proceed on this check?”

Basil’s cigarette dropped our of his hand.  “I don’t know what check you mean,” he declared with alarm, “there was a bill—­ I couldn’t help myself.  My aunt—­”

“Gave you a lot of money and you repaid her by forging her name.  But you also forged Hale’s name.”

“Ah, I know what you mean now.  It was only for fifty pounds.”

“Had it been for fifty pence the crime is the same,” said Mallow vehemently, “why did you not let me help you?  I offered to.  But you preferred to commit a crime.”

“Such a fuss to make,” muttered the youth discontentedly, “the bill is in the possession of Juliet, and no steps can be taken on that.  If mother accepts this six thousand a year, she will buy the check back from Hale.  He’s a scoundrel and will do anything for money.  Then you can marry Juliet, and I can go abroad for a few years on an income of three thousand.  Mother will allow me that.”

The coolness of this speech almost took Mallow’s breath away.  The man did not seem to be at all affected by his crime.  So long as he was not found out he appeared to think nothing about the matter.  “And I know you will marry Juliet,” proceeded Basil, “you love her too well to give her up.”

“That is true enough,” said Cuthbert, who, having already spared him too long, now determined to punish him, “but I may love her so well that I may not wish to buy her.”

“What do you mean by buying her?” demanded Basil sulkily.

“What I say.  Is it only to save you that I am to marry Juliet?  My marriage must be one of love—­”

“She does love you.  And I don’t see,” added Basil complainingly, “why you should jump on a chap for wishing for your happiness—­”

“And your own safety.”

“Oh, bosh!  The bill is destroyed.  Juliet put it into the fire, and Hale will sell the check at his own price.”

“His price is that I am to marry Juliet.”

“So that he can marry Maraquito, I suppose.  I know that she loves you and that Hale is crazy about her.  It’s very hard on me,” whined the egotistical youth, “for I want to marry her myself, only mother put her spoke in my wheel.”

“Dare you offer yourself to Maraquito, bad as she is, knowing what you are?” cried Mallow, fairly disgusted.

“Oh, the forgeries.  What of them?  It’s nothing.”  Basil snapped his fingers.  “Maraquito won’t mind.  But I suppose I’ll have to give her up on account of that infernal check.  Such a small one as it was too.  I wish I had made it one hundred and fifty.  I could have done so.”

In the face of this callous behavior it was sheer wrongdoing to spare the man.  “I do not allude to the forgery, though that is bad enough,” said Cuthbert, glancing round to see that the door was closed, “but to the murder of your aunt.  You killed her.”