“You never saw her again?”

“Never.  I started to travel, and came to London only at rare intervals.  I did write to Selina, asking her to see me, but she always refused, so I became philosophic and took to celibacy also.”

“Very strange,” murmured Jennings, his thoughts elsewhere, “but this does not explain Mrs. Octagon’s visit to the house.”

“I am not so sure of that, if you mean Maraquito’s house.  Mrs. Octagon may know, as I do, that Maraquito is the niece of Emilia.”

“Are you sure of that?” asked the detective eagerly.

“As sure as I am that she is no Spaniard, nor even a Spanish Jewess, as she claims to be.  She doesn’t even know the language.  Her name, to fit a woman, should terminate in a feminine manner.  She should be called Maraquita, not Maraquito.  That little grammatical error doubtless escaped her notice.  But as I was saying, Maraquito—­we will still call her so—­may have sent for Mrs. Octagon.”

“Mrs. Octagon, so far as I have seen, is not the woman to obey such a call,” said Jennings grimly.

“Maraquito may have compelled her to come.”

“For what reason?”

“Well, you see, Emilia was said by Isabella Loach—­Mrs. Octagon that is—­to have fallen from the plank.  But Mrs. Octagon may have pushed her off.”

“May have murdered her in fact.”

“Quite so.  Isabella loved me, and was, and is, a very violent woman.  It may be that she pushed Emilia off the plank, and Maraquito, through her dead father, may have learned the truth.  This would give her a hold over Mrs. Octagon.”

“But Selina may have killed Emilia.  That would explain her hermit life, inexplicable in any other way.”

“No,” said Caranby in a shaking voice, “I am sure the woman I loved would never have behaved in that way.  Isabella killed Emilia—­if it was a murder—­and then threatened to denounce Selina unless she gave up the idea of marrying me.  And that,” added Caranby, as though struck with a new idea, “may be the cause why Selina never answered my letter, and always refused to see or marry me.  She may have been—­no, I am sure she was—­under the thumb of Isabella.  Now that Selina is dead, Isabella is under the thumb of Maraquito.”

“This is all theory,” said Jennings impatiently.

“We can only theorize in our present state of uncertainty,” was the reply of the nobleman.  “But my explanation is a reasonable one.”

“I do not deny that.  But why should Maraquito send for Mrs. Octagon?”

“Why?” echoed Caranby in surprise, “in order to stop the marriage with Cuthbert.  Maraquito loves Cuthbert and hates Juliet.  I daresay this is the solution of Mrs. Octagon’s strange behavior since the death.  It is Maraquito who is stopping the marriage by threatening to denounce Mrs. Octagon for the murder of her aunt.  Juliet knows this, and hence her reticence.”

“It might be so,” murmured Jennings, more and more perplexed.  “But Miss Saxon won’t be reticent with me.  I’ll see her to-morrow.”