“Well, she might have hesitated to do that before, as Miss Loach might not have left her fortune to Juliet if the marriage did not take place.”

Cuthbert nodded and spoke musingly:  “After all, the old woman liked me, and I was the nephew of the man who loved her in her youth.  Her heart may have been set on the match, and she might have threatened to leave her fortune elsewhere if Mrs. Octagon did not agree.  Failing this, Mrs. Octagon, through Basil, gave that photograph to Maraquito in the hope that Juliet would ask questions of me—­”

“And if she had asked questions?” asked Jennings quickly.

Cuthbert looked uncomfortable.  “Don’t think me a conceited ass,” he said, trying to laugh, “but Maraquito is in love with me.  I stayed away from her house because she became too attentive.  I never told you this, as no man has a right to reveal a woman’s weakness.  But, as matters are so serious, it is right you should know.”

“I am glad I do know.  By the way, Cuthbert, what between Miss Saxon, Susan Grant and Maraquito, you will have a hard time.”

“How absurd!” said Mallow angrily.  “Juliet is the only woman I love and Juliet I intend to marry.”

“Maraquito will prevent your marriage.”

“If she can,” scoffed Cuthbert.

Jennings looked grave.  “I am not so sure but what she can make mischief.  There’s Mrs. Herne who may or may not be the mother of this Spanish demon—­”

“Perhaps the demon herself,” ventured Mallow.

“No!” said the detective positively.  “Maraquito can’t move from her couch.  You know that.  However, I shall call on Mrs. Herne at Hampstead.  She was a witness, you know?  Keep quiet, Mallow, and let me make inquiries.  Meantime, ask Miss Saxon when she missed that photograph.”

“Can you see your way now?”

“I have a slight clue.  But it will be a long time before I learn the truth.  There is a lot at the back of that murder, Mallow.”

CHAPTER XI

ON THE TRACK

Professor Le Beau kept a school of dancing in Pimlico, and incessantly trained pupils for the stage.  Many of them had appeared with more or less success in the ballets at the Empire and Alhambra, and he was widely known amongst stage-struck aspirants as charging moderately and teaching in a most painstaking manner.  He thus made an income which, if not large, was at least secure, and was assisted in the school by his niece, Peggy Garthorne.  She was the manager of his house and looked after the money, otherwise the little professor would never have been able to lay aside for the future.  But when the brother of the late Madame Le Beau—­an Englishwoman—­died, his sister took charge of the orphan.  Now that Madame herself was dead, Peggy looked after the professor out of gratitude and love.  She was fond of the excitable little Frenchman, and knew how to manage him to a nicety.