?" asked Jennings quickly.

"Arsk me another," said the cook querulously, "he's a secret one is
Thomas Barnes, whatever you may say. He comes and he goes and makes
money by 'is doin's, whatever they may be. For not a word do I 'ear of
'is pranks. I've a good mind to remain Pill to the end of my days,
seein' as he keeps secrets."

Jennings said no more, but secretly wondered why Thomas had gone to
visit Mrs. Herne. He determined to call on that lady at once and see
if he could learn what message Thomas had taken her and from whom. But
he had not much time for thought as Mrs. Pill opened a door to the
right of a narrow passage and pushed him in. "An' now I'll go back to
my dustin'," said the cook, hurrying away.

Jennings found himself face to face with Juliet. She was standing on a
chair with her hand up on the cornice. As soon as she saw him she came
down with rather a white face. The room was filled with trunks and
large deal boxes, and some were open, revealing clothes. Dust lay
thick on others apparently locked, and untouched for many years. The
light filtered into the dusty attic through a dirty window, and the
floor was strewn with straw and other rubbish. Miss Saxon did not know
the detective and her face resumed its normal color and expression.

"Who are you and what do you want?" she asked, casting a nervous look
at the cornice.

Jennings removed his hat. "I beg your pardon," he said politely.
"Mrs. Pill showed me up here when I asked to see you."

"She had no right," said Juliet, looking at her dress, which was rather
dusty, "come downstairs and tell me who you are."

She appeared anxious to get him out of the room, and walked before him
out of the door. As she passed through Jennings contrived to shut it
as though her dress had caught the lower part. Then he lightly turned
the key. He could hear Juliet fumbling at the lock. "What is the
matter?" she called through.

"The lock has got hampered in some way," said Jennings, rattling the
key, "one moment, I'll look at it carefully."

As he said this he made one bound to the chair upon which she had been
standing and reached his hand to the cornice at which she had looked.
Passing his hand rapidly along it came into contact with an object long
and sharp. He drew it down. It was a brand-new knife of the sort
called bowie. Jennings started on seeing this object, but having no
time to think (for he did not wish to rouse her suspicions), h