"I want none of her
money. Cuthbert has money of his own, and his uncle is rich also."

"I really hope Cuthbert has enough to justify him gambling."

"He does not gamble," said Juliet quickly.

"Yes he does," insisted Mrs. Octagon. "I have heard rumors; it is but
right you should hear about--"

"I want to hear nothing. I thought you liked Cuthbert."

"I do, and he is a good match. But I should like to see you accept the
Poet Arkwright, who will yet be the Shakespeare of England."

"England has quite enough glory with the Shakespeare she has," rejoined
Juliet tartly, "and as to Mr. Arkwright, I wouldn't marry him if he had
a million. A silly, ugly, weak--"

"Stop!" cried Mrs. Octagon, rising majestically from her throne. "Do
not malign genius, lest the gods strike you dumb. Child--"

What Mrs. Octagon was about to say further must remain ever a mystery,
for it was at this moment that her husband hurried into the room with
an evening paper in his hand. "My dear," he said, his scanty hair
almost standing on end with horror, "such dreadful news. Your aunt,
Juliet, my dear--"

"Selina," said Mrs. Octagon quietly, "go on. There is nothing bad I
don't expect to hear about Selina. What is it?"

"She is dead!"

"Dead!" cried Juliet, clasping her hands nervously. "No!"

"Not only dead, but murdered!" cried Mr. Octagon. His wife suddenly
dropped into her throne and, being a large fleshly woman, her fall
shook the room. Then she burst into tears. "I never liked Selina," she
sniffed, "even though she was my own sister, but I am sorry--I am
dreadfully--oh, dear me! Poor Selina!"

By this time all the dramatic posing of Mrs. Octagon had gone by the
wall, and she showed herself in her true colors as a kind-hearted
woman. Juliet hurried to her mother and took one of her hands. The
elder woman started, even in the midst of her tears. "My child, your
hand is as cold as ice," she said anxiously. "Are you ill."

"No," said the girl hurriedly and evidently trying to suppress her
emotion, "but this dreadful news! Do you remember what you said?"

"Yes--but I never expected I would be a true prophetess," sobbed Mrs.
Octagon. "Peter," with sudden tartness, "why don't you give me the
details. Poor Selina dead, and here am I in ruby velvet!"

"There are not many details to give," said Peter, reading from the
newspaper, "the police are keeping quiet about the matter."

"Who killed her?"

Juliet rose sudde