“Why did she?”

“Because she loved Caranby in her tiger way.  That was why she insisted you should marry Juliet.  She always threatened to tell that I had killed Selina, though I was innocent.”

“If you were, why need you have been afraid?”

“Circumstances were too strong for me,” said Mrs. Octagon, wiping her dry lips and glaring like a demon.  “I had to give in.  Had I known of that factory I would have spoken out.  As it was, I wrote to Caranby when in a fit of rage; but afterwards I was afraid of what I had done, as I thought Emilia would tell.”

“She certainly would have done so had she not died so opportunely.”

“Do you mean to say that I killed her?  I tell you, Maraquito did so.”

“What makes you think that?” asked Mallow, delighted at the mistake.

“Because she was always fighting with Emilia about you.  Maraquito wished to marry you, and Emilia would not let her.  After Emilia died, Maraquito saw me, and we arranged to stop the marriage, and—­”

“I know all about that.  I saw you—­or rather my uncle saw you—­enter Maraquito’s Soho house.”

“I went on Basil’s account also,” said Mrs. Octagon, sullenly, “however, I have told you all.  What do you wish to do?”

“I wish to marry Juliet.”

“Then I refuse,” said Mrs. Octagon, savagely.

“In that case I’ll tell.”

“You will disgrace Juliet.  Besides, the law can’t touch me.”

“I am not so sure of that.  You were an accessory after the fact.  And if the public knew that you had acquiesced in the death of your sister and had held your tongue for years, you would not be popular.  I fear your books would not sell then.”

Mrs. Octagon saw all this, and glared savagely at Cuthbert.  She would have liked to kill him, but he was the stronger of the two, and knew much which she wished kept silent.  Mallow saw the impression he was making and went on persuasively.  “And think, Mrs. Octagon, Juliet can give you up the six thousand a year—­”

“Not she,” laughed Mrs. Octagon, sneering.

“She will, at my request.  I don’t want my wife to possess money made out of coining.  The income will be made over to you by deed of gift.”

“Six thousand a year,” mused the lady, “and you will hold your tongue?”

“Of course, for Juliet’s sake as well as for yours.  But I think it will be advisable for you to travel for a few years.”

“I’ll take up my abode in America forever,” said Mrs. Octagon, rising, “do you think I’ll stop here and see you my daughter’s husband?  Not for all the money in the world.  Besides, Mr. Octagon has been insolent over money, and I sha’n’t stay with him.  Basil and myself will go to America and there we will become famous.”

“It is certainly better than becoming famous in another way,” said Mallow, dryly, “you will, of course be quite amiable to Juliet.  Also to me, in public.”