aid Cuthbert reflectively. "I
read the case coming up in the train to-day, and it seems to me from
what The Planet says that the whole thing is a mystery."

"One which I mean to dive into and discover," replied Miles. "I do not
care for an ordinary murder case, but this is one after my own heart.
It is a criminal problem which I should like to work out."

"Do you see your way as yet?" asked Cuthbert.

"No," confessed Jennings, "I do not. I saw the report you speak of.
The writer theorizes without having facts to go on. What he says about
the bell is absurd. All the same, the bell did ring and the assassin
could not have escaped at the time it sounded. Nor could the deceased
have rung it. Therein lies the mystery, and I can't guess how the
business was managed."

"Do you believe the assassin rang the bell?"

Miles shrugged his shoulders and sipped his coffee. "It is impossible
to say. I will wait until I have more facts before me before I venture
an opinion. It is only in detective novels that the heaven-born Vidocq
can guess the truth on a few stray clues. But what were you going to
tell me?"

"Will you keep what I say to yourself?"

"Yes," said Jennings, readily enough, "so long as it doesn't mean the
escape of the person who is guilty."

"I don't ask you to betray the confidence placed in you by the
authorities to that extent," said Mallow, "just wait a moment."

He leaned his chin on his hand and thought. If he wished to gain the
hand of Juliet, it was necessary he should clear up the mystery of the
death. Unaided, he could not do so, but with the assistance of his old
schoolfellow--following his lead in fact--he might get at the truth.
Then, when the name of the assassin of her sister was known, the reason
of Mrs. Octagon's strange behavior might be learned, and, moreover, the
discovery might remove her objection. On the other hand, Cuthbert
could not help feeling uneasy, lest Mrs. Octagon had some secret
connected with the death which made her refuse her consent to the
match, and which, if he explained to Jennings what he knew, might
become known in a quarter which she might not approve of. However,
Mallow was certain that, in spite of Mrs. Octagon's hint, his uncle had
nothing to do with the matter, and he had already warned her--although
she refused to listen--that he intended to trace the assassin. Under
these circumstances, and also because Jennings was his friend and more
likely to aid