nder what he would say if he knew my reason for going there.
Humph! I must keep that quiet. The only person I dare tell is Juliet;
but I can't speak to her about the matter just yet. And after all,
there is no need to mention my visit. It does not concern her in the
least. I wonder," here Cuthbert stopped, struck with an idea. "By
George! can it be that Basil was near Rose Cottage on the night the
crime was committed? Juliet may know that, and so, fearful lest he
should be accused of the murder, asked me to stop proceedings. Can
Basil Saxon be guilty? No," Mallow shook his head and resumed his
walk, "he has not pluck enough to kill a fly."

After this he dismissed the matter from his thoughts and waited
expectant of a letter from Juliet. None came, and he was convinced
that Basil had not delivered the message. This being the case,
Cuthbert determined to act for himself, and one afternoon went down to
Rexton. That same evening he had an appointment with Jennings, who was
to bring Susan Grant to Mallow's rooms. But the young man quite
expected to be back in time to keep the appointment, and meantime he
spent an hour wandering round Rexton in the vicinity of Rose Cottage.
But afraid lest Mrs. Octagon should see him and keep Juliet within
doors, he abstained from passing in front of the house and waited on
the path which led to the station.

While watching the cottage, a young woman came along the path. She was
neatly dressed and looked like a servant. Cuthbert pressed himself
against the quickset hedge to allow her to pass, as there was very
little room. The girl started as she murmured her thanks, and grew
crimson on seeing his face. Cuthbert, not thinking, gave a passing
thought to her looks and wondered why she had blushed. But when he saw
her enter the gate of Rose Cottage--she looked back twice--he recalled
the description of Jennings.

"By George!" he thought, "that was Susan Grant. I wish I had spoken to
her. I wonder why she blushed. She can't be in love with me, as I
never saw her before. All the same, it is strange about the portrait."

It was now about four o'clock, and Cuthbert fancied that after all it
would be best to boldly ring at the door and ask admission, in spite of
Mrs. Octagon.

But while hesitating to risk all his chances of seeing Juliet on one
throw of fortune's dice, the matter was decided for him by the
appearance of Juliet herself. She came out of the gate and walked
di