“Perhaps,” said the other again; “but Basil may have been about the place and have accused me.”

“In that case he must explain his reason for being in the neighborhood at that hour.  But he won’t, and you may be sure Miss Saxon, for his sake, will hold her tongue.  No, Mallow.  Someone accuses you to Miss Saxon—­Basil or another.  If we could only make her speak—­”

Cuthbert shook his head.  “I fear it’s impossible.”

“Why not let me arrest you,” suggested Jennings, “and then, if at anytime, she would speak.”

“Hang it, no!” cried Mallow in dismay, “that would be too realistic, Jennings.  I don’t want it known that I was hanging about the place on that night.  My explanation might not be believed.  In any case, people would throw mud at me, considering I am engaged to the niece of the dead woman.”

“Yes!  I can see that.  Well,” Jennings rose and stretched himself.  “I must see what Susan has to say”; he glanced at his watch; “she should be here in a few minutes.”

A silence ensued which was broken by Jennings.  “Oh, by the way,” he said, taking some papers out of his pocket, “I looked up the Saul case.”

“Well, what about it?” asked Cuthbert indolently

Jennings referred to his notes.  “The Saul family” he said, “seem to have been a bad lot.  There was a mother, a brother and a daughter—­”

“Emilia!”

“Just so.  They were all coiners.  Somewhere in Hampstead they had a regular factory.  Others were mixed up in the matter also, but Mrs. Saul was the head of the gang.  Then Emilia grew tired of the life—­I expect it told on her nerves.  She went on the concert platform and met Caranby.  Then she died, as you know.  Afterwards the mother and brother were caught.  They bolted.  The mother, I believe, died—­it was believed she was poisoned for having betrayed secrets.  The brother went to jail, got out years afterwards on ticket-of-leave, and then died also.  The rest of the gang were put in jail, but I can’t say what became of them.”

Cuthbert shrugged his shoulders.  “This does not help us much.”

“No.  But it shows you what an escape your uncle had from marrying the woman.  I can’t understand—­”

“No more can Caranby,” said Mallow, smiling; “he loved Miss Loach, but Emilia exercised a kind of hypnotic influence over him.  However, she is dead, and I can see no connection between her and this crime.”

“Well,” said Jennings soberly, “it appears that some other person besides the mother gave a clue to the breaking up of the gang and the whereabouts of the factory.  Supposing that person was Selina Loach, who hated Emilia for having taken Caranby from her.  One of the gang released lately from prison may have killed the old lady out of revenge.”

“What! after all these years?”

“Revenge is a passion that grows with years,” said Jennings grimly; “at all events, I intend to go on ferreting out evidence about this old coining case, particularly as there are many false coins circulating now.  I should not be surprised to learn that the factory had been set up again; Miss Loach may have known and—­”