“But we must do something,” said Juliet quickly.

“We will wait, my dear.  But I don’t want more publicity than is necessary.”

“But I have told some of our friends that Aunt Selina is a relative.”

“Then you should not have done so,” replied her mother, annoyed.  “However, people soon forget names, and the thing may not be noticed.”

“My dear,” said Octagon, seriously, “you should not be ashamed of your sister.  She may not have your renown nor rank, still—­”

“I know my own knowing,” interrupted the lady rather violently, and crushing her meek husband with a look.  “Selina and I are strangers, and have been for years.  What are the circumstances of the case?  I have not seen Selina for over fifteen years.  I hear nothing about her.  She suddenly writes to me, asking if my dear children may call and see her—­that was a year ago.  You insisted that they should go, Peter, because relatives should be friendly.  I consented, as I heard from Mr. Hale that Selina was rich, and fancied she might leave her money to my children.  Juliet has called several times—­”

“More than that,” interrupted Juliet in her turn, “both Basil and I have called nearly every month.  We sometimes went and did not tell you, mother, as you seemed so annoyed that we should visit her.”

“I consented only that you might retain her goodwill and get what money she might leave,” said Mrs. Octagon obstinately.  “There is nothing in common between Selina and me.”

“There was nothing in common,” put in Octagon softly.

“I know she is dead.  You need not remind me of that unpleasant fact, sir.  And her death is worthy of her strange, and I fear not altogether reputable life.”

“Oh, mother, how can you?  Aunt Selina was the most particular—­”

“There—­there,” said her mother who was much agitated, “I know more than you do.  And between ourselves, I believe I know who killed her.  Yes!  You may look.  And this death, Juliet, ends your engagement with Cuthbert.”

CHAPTER IV

DETAILS

What Mrs. Octagon meant by her last enigmatic remark it is impossible to say.  After delivering it in her usual dramatic manner, she swept from the room, leaving Juliet and her step-father staring at one another.  Peter was the first to break the silence.

“Your mother appears to be very positive,” said he.

“About my giving up Cuthbert?” asked Juliet sharply.

“About the crime.  She hinted that she guessed who killed the poor lady.  I never knew Miss Loach myself,” added Mr. Octagon, seating himself and ruffling his scanty locks, a habit with him when perplexed, “but you said you liked her.”

“Yes, Aunt Selina was always very nice to me.  She had strange ways, and, to tell you the truth, father,” Juliet always addressed Peter thus, to his great delight, “she was not so refined as mother—­”