“Because I know he’s a dissipated young ass,” returned Mallow roughly; “and I daresay you know it also.”

“Do you allude to his playing cards?” she asked quickly.

“Yes.  He has no right to tell you these things.  But I know he is in debt to Hale—­he hinted as much the other day.  I would say nothing of this to you, but that I know he counts on your paying his debts.  I tell you, Juliet, it is wrong for you to do so.”

“How do you know I can?” she asked.

“I know nothing,” said Cuthbert doggedly, “not even if you have inherited the money of Miss Loach.”

“I have inherited it.  She left everything to me, save legacies to Thomas her servant, and to Emily Pill, the cook.  It is a large fortune.  The will was read on the day of the funeral.  I have now six thousand a year.”

“So much as that?  How did your aunt make such a lot of money?”

“Mr. Hale speculated a great deal on her account, and, he is very lucky.  At least so he told me.  But the money is well invested and there are no restrictions.  I can easily pay the few debts Basil owes, poor boy.  You are too hard on him.”

“Perhaps I am.  But he is so foolish, and he doesn’t like me.  I believe he puts you against me, Juliet.”

The girl threw her arms round his neck.  “Nothing in the world would ever put me against you, Cuthbert,” she whispered vehemently.  “I love you—­I love you—­with all my heart and soul, with every fibre of my being do I love you.  I don’t care what mother says, I love you.”

“Well, then,” said Cuthbert, between kisses, “since you are now rich and your own mistress—­not that I care about the money—­why not marry me at once?”

Juliet drew back, and her eyes dilated with fear.  “I dare not—­ I dare not,” she whispered.  “You don’t know what you ask.”

“Yes I do.  Juliet, what is all this mystery about?  I could not understand the meaning of your letter.”

“Did you do what I asked?” she panted.

“It was too late.  I had told Jennings the detective all I knew.”

“You were not afraid?”

“Afraid!” echoed Cuthbert, opening his eyes.  “What do you mean?”

She looked into his eyes.  “No,” she said to herself, “he is not afraid.”

Cuthbert lost his temper.  “I don’t understand all this,” he declared, “if you would only speak out.  But I can guess why you wish me to stop the proceedings—­you fear for Basil!”

She stepped back a pace.  “For Basil?”

“Yes.  From what he hinted the other day I believe he was about this place on the night of the—­”

“Where are your proofs?” she gasped, recoiling.

“I have none.  I am only speaking on chance.  But Basil is in monetary difficulties—­he is in debt to Hale—­he counted on you inheriting the money of Miss Loach to pay his debts.  He—­”

“Stop! stop!” cried Juliet, the blood rising to her face, “this is only supposition.  You can prove nothing.”