minute the old man was smoking as gravely as any Turk. This
method of consuming tobacco was another eccentricity. For a few
moments neither spoke. Then Caranby broke the silence.

"So you want me to help you to find out Mrs. Octagon's reason?"

"I do," said Mallow, rather surprised by Caranby's perspicuity.

"What makes you think I can explain?"

Cuthbert looked at his cigarette. "I asked you on the chance that you
may be able to do so," he said gravely. "The fact is, to be frank,
Mrs. Octagon appears to think you might have something to do with the
crime."

Caranby did not seem surprised, but smoked imperturbably. "I don't
quite understand."

The young man related how Mrs. Octagon had inquired if the Earl was
back from the Continent, and her subsequent remark. "Of course I may be
unduly suspicious," said he. "But it suggested--"

"Quite so," interrupted the old gentleman gravely. "You are quick at
putting two and two together. Isabella Octagon hates me so much that
she would gladly see me on the scaffold. I am not astonished that she
suspects me."

"But what motive can she impute--"

Caranby laid aside the long coil he was holding and laughed quietly to
himself. "Oh, she'll find a motive if it suits her. But what I cannot
understand is, why she should accuse me now. She has had ample
opportunity during the past twenty years, since the death of Miss Saul,
for instance."

"She did not exactly accuse you."

"No, a woman like that would not. And then of course, her sister dying
only last night affords her the opportunity of getting me into trouble.
But I am afraid Mrs. Octagon will be disappointed of her revenge, long
though she has waited."

"Revenge! remember, sir, she is the mother of Juliet."

"I sincerely hope Juliet does not take after her, then," said Lord
Caranby, tartly. "To be perfectly plain with you, Cuthbert, I could
never understand why Mrs. Octagon sanctioned your engagement with her
daughter, considering you are my nephew."

"I don't understand," said Mallow, staring and uneasily.

Caranby did not answer immediately. He rose and walked painfully up
and down the room leaning heavily on his cane. Mallow offered his arm
but was impatiently waved aside. When the old man sat down again he
turned a serious face to his nephew. "Do you love this girl?"

"With all my heart and soul."

"And she loves you?"

"Of course. We were made for one another."

"But Mrs. Octagon--"