“Yes, my lord,” replied the servant, and Mallow started on hearing the title.  But he was now Lord Caranby and his uncle was dead.

CHAPTER XXVI

CUTHBERT’S ENEMY

Before leaving the death-chamber, Mallow—­now Lord Caranby—­ sealed the confession in the presence of Yeo, and went with him into the sitting-room.  “What will you do with that?” asked the doctor, indicating the envelope with a nod.

“I shall place it in the hand of my lawyers to be put with family papers,” replied Cuthbert.  “I am sure you agree with me, Yeo, that it is unnecessary to make the contents public.  My uncle is dead.”

“Even were he still alive, I should advise you to say nothing,” replied Yeo, grimly; “the woman deserved her fate, even though it was an accident.  She destroyed Caranby’s life.  He would have married Selina Loach and have been a happy man but for her.”

“There I think you wrong her.  It is Isabella Octagon who is to blame.  She has indeed been a fatal woman to my poor uncle.  But for her, he would not have been prevented from marrying Selina and thus have fallen into the toils of Emilia.  Emilia would not have murdered Selina, and the result would not have come out after all these years in the death of my uncle at the hands of Bathsheba Saul.”

“Who is she?”

“Maraquito.  But you don’t know the whole story, nor do I think there is any need to repeat the sordid tragedy.  I will put this paper away and say nothing about it to anyone save to Jennings.”

“The detective!” said Yeo, surprised and startled.  “Do you think that is wise?  He may make the matter public.”

“No, he won’t.  He has traced the coiners to their lair, and that is enough glory for him.  When he knows the truth he will stop searching further into the case.  If I hold my tongue, he may go on, and make awkward discoveries.”

“Yes, I see it is best you should tell him.  But Miss Saxon?”

“She shall never know.  Let her think Maraquito killed Emilia.  Only you, I and Jennings will know the truth.”

“You can depend upon my silence,” said Yeo, shaking Cuthbert by the hand; “well, and what will you do now?”

“With your permission, I shall ask you to stop here and arrange about necessary matters in connection with the laying-out of the body.  I wish to interview Mrs. Octagon this evening.  To-morrow I shall see about Caranby’s remains being taken down to our family seat in Essex.”

“There will be an inquest first.”

“I don’t mind.  Maraquito is dead and nothing detrimental to the honor of the Mallows can transpire.  You need say nothing at the inquest as to the bottle being thrown at Juliet.”

“I’ll do my best.  But she will be questioned.”

“I intend to see her this evening myself.”

“What about Mrs. Octagon?”