scovered. Jennings is in high glee
about it. He loves a puzzle of this sort."

"Do you know him?" asked Juliet anxiously.

"Oh, yes. Jennings is a gentleman. He was at Eton with me. But he ran
through his money and took up the detective business. He is very
clever, and if anyone will learn the truth, he will. Now, my theory--"

Juliet put her hand over his mouth. "Don't," she said. "I have had
enough horrors for this afternoon. Let us talk of ourselves."

"I would rather do this," said Mallow, and kissed her.

Mallow was a handsome fellow, tall and slim, with a rather military
carriage. His face was clean-shaven save for a small straw-colored
moustache, which showed up almost white against the bronze of his face.
He was more of an athlete than a student, and this was one reason why
Juliet was fond of him. She had seen so much of literary circles that
she always vowed she would marry a man who never opened a book.
Cuthbert nearly fulfilled this requirement, as he read little, save
novels and newspapers. He was well known in sporting circles, and
having a good private income, owned race-horses. He was always
irreproachably dressed, good-humored and cheerful. Consequently he was
popular, and if not overburdened with brains, managed to make himself
agreeable to the world, and to have what the Americans call "a good
time." He had travelled much and was fond of big-game shooting. To
complete his characterization, it is necessary to mention that he had
served in the Boer War, and had gained a D.S.O. But that was in the
days before he met Juliet or he might not have risked a life so
precious to her.

Juliet was dark and rather little, not at all like her Junoesque
mother. She was extremely pretty and dressed to perfection. Having
more brains and a stronger will than Mallow, she guided him in every
way, and had already succeeded in improving his morals. With so gentle
and charming a mentor, Cuthbert was quite willing to be led into the
paths of virtue. He adored Juliet and she loved him, so it appeared
that the marriage would be quite ideal.

"Much as we love one another," said Cuthbert when the lovers were
seated on the sofa. "I wonder you can talk of anything but this horrid
murder."

"Because there is nothing to talk of," rejoined the girl impatiently;
"according to Basil, the case is most mysterious, so it is useless for
us to worry over it until something tangible is discovered. But I want
to