Jennings smiled at this answer and thought of the knife which he had found.  A less cautious man would have produced it at once and have insisted on an explanation.  But Jennings wished to learn to whom the knife belonged before he ventured.  He was sure that it was not the property of Juliet, who had no need for such a dangerous article, and he was equally sure that as she was shielding someone, she would acknowledge that she had bought the weapon.  He was treading on egg-shells, and it behooved him to be cautious.  “Very good,” he said at length, “we will pass that question for the present, though as Mallow’s friend I am sorry.  Will you tell me to whom you gave the photograph of Mallow which he presented to you?”

“How do you know about that?” asked Miss Saxon quickly.  “And why do you ask?”

“Because I have seen the photograph.”

“That is impossible,” she answered coldly; “unless you were in this house before the death of my aunt.”

“Ah! then it was to Miss Loach you gave it,” said Jennings, wondering how Maraquito had become possessed of it.

“It was; though I do not recognize your right to ask such a question, Mr. Jennings.  My late aunt was very devoted to Mr. Mallow and anxious that our marriage should take place.  He gave me the photograph—­”

“With an inscription,” put in the detective.

“Certainly,” she rejoined, flushing, “with an inscription intended for me alone.  I was unwilling to part with the photograph, but my aunt begged so eagerly for it that I could not refuse it.”

“How did she see it in the first instance?”

“I brought it to show her after Mr. Mallow gave it to me.  May I ask where you saw it?”

Jennings looked at her with marked significance.  “I saw it in the house of a woman called Maraquito.”

“And how did it get there?”

“I can’t tell you.  Do you know this woman?”

“I don’t even know her name.  Who is she?”

“Her real name is Senora Gredos and she claims to be a Spanish Jewess.  She keeps a kind of gambling salon.  To be plain with you, Miss Saxon, I really did not see the photograph in her house.  But a girl called Susan Grant—­”

“I know.  My late aunt’s parlor-maid.”

“Well, the photograph was in her box.  I found it when the servants insisted on their boxes being searched.  She confessed that she had taken it from her last mistress, who was Senora Gredos.  As you gave it to Miss Loach, I should be glad to know how it came into the possession of this woman.”

“I really can’t tell you, no more than I can say why Susan took it.  What was her reason?”

“Mr. Mallow is a handsome man—­” began Jennings, when she stopped him with a gesture.

“Do you mean to say—­no, I’ll never believe it.”

“I was not going to say anything against Mallow’s character.  But this foolish girl cherished a foolish infatuation for Mallow.  She saw him at Senora Gredos’ house—­”