atient, but he drew
back. Death was stamped on the face.

Cuthbert called in the servant. "Lord Caranby is dead," he said
quietly.

"Yes, my lord," replied the servant, and Mallow started on hearing the
title. But he was now Lord Caranby and his uncle was dead.

CHAPTER XXVI

CUTHBERT'S ENEMY

Before leaving the death-chamber, Mallow--now Lord Caranby--sealed the
confession in the presence of Yeo, and went with him into the
sitting-room. "What will you do with that?" asked the doctor,
indicating the envelope with a nod.

"I shall place it in the hand of my lawyers to be put with family
papers," replied Cuthbert. "I am sure you agree with me, Yeo, that it
is unnecessary to make the contents public. My uncle is dead."

"Even were he still alive, I should advise you to say nothing," replied
Yeo, grimly; "the woman deserved her fate, even though it was an
accident. She destroyed Caranby's life. He would have married Selina
Loach and have been a happy man but for her."

"There I think you wrong her. It is Isabella Octagon who is to blame.
She has indeed been a fatal woman to my poor uncle. But for her, he
would not have been prevented from marrying Selina and thus have fallen
into the toils of Emilia. Emilia would not have murdered Selina, and
the result would not have come out after all these years in the death
of my uncle at the hands of Bathsheba Saul."

"Who is she?"

"Maraquito. But you don't know the whole story, nor do I think there
is any need to repeat the sordid tragedy. I will put this paper away
and say nothing about it to anyone save to Jennings."

"The detective!" said Yeo, surprised and startled. "Do you think that
is wise? He may make the matter public."

"No, he won't. He has traced the coiners to their lair, and that is
enough glory for him. When he knows the truth he will stop searching
further into the case. If I hold my tongue, he may go on, and make
awkward discoveries."

"Yes, I see it is best you should tell him. But Miss Saxon?"

"She shall never know. Let her think Maraquito killed Emilia. Only
you, I and Jennings will know the truth."

"You can depend upon my silence," said Yeo, shaking Cuthbert by the
hand; "well, and what will you do now?"

"With your permission, I shall ask you to stop here and arrange about
necessary matters in connection with the laying-out of the body. I
wish to interview Mrs. Octagon this evening. To-morrow I shall see
about C