he means of making a precis of the case. The
theory of the bell appeared excessively weak, and he could not
understand a man being so foolish as to put it forward.

"If the button was pressed down by Miss Loach, the bell would have rung
at once," argued Cuthbert; "and when it slipped up, even with the heat,
the ringing would have stopped. But the bell rang at eleven, and the
girl was in the room two minutes later. Someone must have rung it.
But why did someone do this, and how did someone escape after ringing
in so fool-hardy a manner?"

He could not find an answer to this question. The whole case was
indeed most perplexing. There seemed absolutely no answer to the
riddle. Even supposing Miss Loach had been murdered out of a
long-delayed revenge by a member of the Saul family--and that theory
appeared ridiculous to Mallow--the question was how did the assassin
escape? Certainly, having regard to the cards still being on the lap
of the deceased, and the closing of the door at a time when the
policeman was not in the vicinity, the assassin may have escaped in
that way. But how did he come to be hidden in the bedroom, and how did
he kill the old lady before she had time to call out or even rise,
seeing that he had the whole length of the room to cross before
reaching her? And again, the escape of the assassin at this hour did
not explain the ringing of the bell. Cuthbert was deeply interested,
and wondered if the mystery would ever be solved. "I must see Jennings
after all," he thought as the train steamed into Paddington.

And see Jennings he did, sooner than he expected. That same evening
when he was dressing to go out, a card was brought. It was inscribed
"Miles Jennings." Rather surprised that the detective should seek him
out so promptly, Cuthbert entered his sitting-room. Jennings, who was
standing with his back to the window, saluted him with a pleasant
smile, and spoke to him as to an equal. Of course he had every right
to do so since he had been at school with Mallow, but somehow the
familiarity irritated Cuthbert.

"Well, Jennings, what is it?"

"I came to ask you a few questions, Mallow."

"About what?"

"About the murder at Rose Cottage."

"But, my dear fellow, I know nothing about it."

"You knew Miss Loach?"

"Yes. I saw her once or twice. But I did not like her."

"She is the aunt of the young lady you are engaged to marry?"

Mallow drew himself up stiffly. "As a matter of fac