ll the money in
the world. I hated Walter Mallow, your uncle. He treated me
shamefully, and I swore that never would any child of mine be connected
with him. Selina wished it, and forced me to agree while she was
alive. But she is dead and Lord Caranby is dead, and you can do
nothing. I defy you--I defy you!"

"We may as well conduct this interview reasonably."

"I shall not let you remain here any longer. Go."

She pointed to the door with a dramatic gesture. Cuthbert took up his
hat.

"I shall go if you insist," he said, moving towards the door, "and I
shall return with a policeman."

Mrs. Octagon gave a gasp and went gray. "What do you mean?"

"You know well what I mean. Am I to go?"

"You have nothing against me," she said violently, "stop, if you will,
and tell me the reason of that speech."

"I think you understand what I mean perfectly well," said Mallow again,
and returning to his seat. "I know that your sister died years ago,"
Mrs. Octagon gasped, "and that Emilia feigned to be Selina Loach. And
perhaps, Mrs. Octagon, you will remember how your sister died."

"I didn't touch her," gasped Mrs. Octagon, trembling.

"No, but Emilia Saul did, and you condoned the crime."

"I deny everything! Go and get a policeman if you like."

Cuthbert walked to the door and there turned. "The statement of Emilia
will make pleasant reading in court," he said.

Mrs. Octagon bounded after him and pulled him back by the coat-tails
into the centre of the room. Then she locked the door and sat down.
"We won't be disturbed," she said, wiping her face upon which the
perspiration stood, "what do you know?"

"Everything, even to that letter you wrote to my uncle, stating he
should see the pretended Selina Loach."

This was a chance shot on Mallow's part, but it told, for he saw her
face change. In fact, Mrs. Octagon was the only woman who could have
sent the letter. She did not attempt to deny it. "I sent that letter,
as I was weary of that woman's tyranny. I thought it would get her
into trouble."

"She would have got you into trouble also. Suppose she had lived and
had told the story of Selina's death."

"She would have put the rope round her own neck," said Mrs. Octagon in
a hollow tone, all her theatrical airs gone. "I was a fool to wait so
long. For twenty years that woman has held me under her thumb. It was
Emilia that made me consent to your engagement to Juliet. Otherwise,"
she added ma