“I do.  Mrs. Pill has taken the place.  Who told you?”

“I heard from Susan Grant.  She was witness, if you remember.  And has Mrs. Pill married Barnes yet?”

“I can’t say,” said Clancy, looking keenly at the detective.  “I am not yet a boarder.  I move in after a fortnight.  I expect the marriage will take place before then.  Susan Grant told you that also?”

“She did.  But I don’t expect I’ll see her again.  Well, gentlemen, I must go away.  I hope you will be lucky.”

Jennings moved away and saw from the eager manner in which the two men began to converse that he was the subject of the conversation.  He looked round for Caranby, but could not see him.  When he was out of the house, however, and on the pavement lighting a cigarette, he felt a touch on his arm and found Caranby waiting for him.  The old gentleman pointed with his cane to a brougham!  “Get in,” he said, “I have been waiting to see you.  There is much to talk about.”

“Maraquito?” asked Jennings eagerly.

“She has something to do with the matter.  Love for Cuthbert has made her involve herself.  How far or in what way I do not know.  And what of Clancy and Hale?”

“Oh, I have put them off the scent.  They think I have given up the case.  But they and Maraquito are connected with the matter somehow.  I can’t for the life of me see in what way though.”

“There is another woman connected with the matter—­Mrs. Octagon.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jennings quickly.

“I saw her enter Maraquito’s house a few moments before you came down.”

CHAPTER XIII

JULIET AT BAY

Caranby’s reply took away Jennings’ breath.  The case was one of surprises, but he was not quite prepared for such an announcement.  He was in the brougham and driving towards the Avon Hotel with the old nobleman before he found his tongue.

“What can Mrs. Octagon have to do with Maraquito?” he asked amazed.

“Ah! that is the question,” replied Caranby, affording no clue.

“I did not even know she was acquainted with her.”

“Perhaps she gambles.”

“Even if she did, Maraquito’s salon would hardly be the place she would choose for her amusement.  Moreover, Maraquito does not receive ladies.  She has no love for her own sex.”

“What woman has?” murmured Caranby, ironically.  Then he added after a pause, “You know that Mrs. Octagon was present when Emilia fell from the plank in the Rexton house?”

“Yes.  She gave evidence at the inquest I understand.  But Selina did not, if Cuthbert informed me rightly.”

“Selina was ill in bed.  She could not come.  Afterwards she went abroad.  I have often wondered,” added Caranby, “why Selina didn’t seek me out when death broke my engagement to Emilia.  She loved me, and her father being dead, there would have been no bar to our marriage.  As it was, she threw over her American and dedicated herself to a hermit’s life at Rexton.”