The room was large and bare and empty. At one
end there was a kind of dais on which was placed a
few chairs. The young man walked up to this
and turned to beckon Juliet, for whom he placed a
chair. She still lingered at the door and seemed
disposed to fly.
“Juliet, if you go now, all is over,”
he said determinedly.
“Cuthbert, how can you?”
“Because I mean what I say. Things can’t
go on like this. You think of your brother—of
your mother. You never give a thought to me.”
Juliet came up the room hurriedly. “I
am thinking of you all the time, Cuthbert,”
she said angrily, “I keep silence for your good.”
“In what way?”
“This murder—” she began.
Then her voice died away, “you know—”
“I know that Miss Loach was murdered, but who
did it I don’t know.”
“Oh,” Juliet dropped into a chair, “are
you innocent?”
“Surely you never thought me guilty?”
“I—I—don’t think
you are, and yet—”
“You are going to accuse me of having been on
the spot?”
Juliet could restrain herself no longer. “I
saw you myself,” she burst out; “I was
there also.”
JULIET’S STORY CONTINUED
Cuthbert was so surprised by this admission that astonishment
held him silent for a moment. He never expected
to hear that Juliet herself had been on the spot.
Seeing this, she went— on quickly.
“Now you can understand why I held my tongue.
You were at Rose Cottage on that night. You have
enemies who know you were there. I have been
threatened should I insist on our engagement being
fulfilled that you will be arrested. Therefore
I kept away and held my tongue.”
“But if you had told me this long ago—”
“How could I?” she cried vehemently.
“Could I come and say to you, I believe you
are a murderer?”
“Did you believe that, Juliet?” he asked
in a grieved tone.
“Yes and no,” she faltered. “Oh,
Cuthbert, you know how I love you. I could not
bring myself to think you were guilty—
and yet the proofs are so strong. You were at
Rose Cottage at a quarter to eleven—”
“No. I was there at a quarter past ten.”
“I tell you I saw you at a quarter to eleven.
You were getting over the wall into the park.
Then there was the knife—your knife.”
“How did you know it was mine?”
“By the notches. You told me you always
cut three notches on the handle of any weapon you
possessed. One day when mother and I came to
afternoon tea at your place you showed me some of
your weapons—the knife amongst them.
One knife is much like another, and I would not have
noticed but for the notches and for the fact that
I saw you on that night. I hid the knife and
Mr. Jennings—”
“He found it,” said Mallow. “Quite
so. He told me he did. When you left the
attic he contrived to—”
