Cuthbert laid down the paper with a shrug. The article did not commend itself to him, save as the means of making a precis of the case. The theory of the bell appeared excessively weak, and he could not understand a man being so foolish as to put it forward.
"If the button was pressed down by Miss Loach, the bell would have rung at once," argued Cuthbert; "and when it slipped up, even with the heat, the ringing would have stopped. But the bell rang at eleven, and the girl was in the room two minutes later. Someone must have rung it. But why did someone do this, and how did someone escape after ringing in so fool-hardy a manner?"
He could not find an answer to this question. The whole case was indeed most perplexing. There seemed absolutely no answer to the riddle. Even supposing Miss Loach had been murdered out of a long-delayed revenge by a member of the Saul family – and that theory appeared ridiculous to Mallow – the question was how did the assassin escape? Certainly, having regard to the cards still being on the lap of the deceased, and the closing of the door at a time when the policeman was not in the vicinity, the assassin may have escaped in that way. But how did he come to be hidden in the bedroom, and how did he kill the old lady before she had time to call out or even rise, seeing that he had the whole length of the room to cross before reaching her? And again, the escape of the assassin at this hour did not explain the ringing of the bell. Cuthbert was deeply interested, and wondered if the mystery would ever be solved. "I must see Jennings after all," he thought as the train steamed into Paddington.
And see Jennings he did, sooner than he expected. That same evening when he was dressing to go out, a card was brought. It was inscribed "Miles Jennings." Rather surprised that the detective should seek him out so promptly, Cuthbert entered his sitting-room. Jennings, who was standing with his back to the window, saluted him with a pleasant smile, and spoke to him as to an equal. Of course he had every right to do so since he had been at school with Mallow, but somehow the familiarity irritated Cuthbert.
"Well, Jennings, what is it?"
"I came to ask you a few questions, Mallow."
"About what?"
"About the murder at Rose Cottage."
"But, my dear fellow, I know nothing about it."
"You knew Miss Loach?"
"Yes. I saw her once or twice. But I did not like her."
"She is the aunt of the young lady you are engaged to marry?"
Mallow drew himself up stiffly. "As a matter of fact she is," he said with marked coldness. "But I don't see – "
"You will in a minute," said Jennings briskly. "Pardon me, but are you in love with another woman?"
Mallow grew red. "What the devil do you mean by coming here to ask me such a question?" he demanded.
"Gently, Mallow, I am your friend, and you may need one."
"What do you mean. Do you accuse me of – "
"I accuse you of nothing," said Jennings quickly, "but I ask you, why did you give this photograph, with an inscription, to the servant of the murdered woman."
"I recognize my photograph, but the servant – "
"Susan Grant. The picture was found in her possession. She refuses to speak," here the detective spoke lower, "in case you get into trouble with the police."
CHAPTER VII
THE DETECTIVE
The two men looked at one another, Jennings searchingly, and Cuthbert with a look of mingled amazement and indignation. They were rather like in looks, both being tall, slim and fair-haired. But Mallow wore a mustache, whereas the detective, possibly for the sake of disguising himself on occasions, was clean-shaven. But although Jennings' profession was scarcely that of a gentleman, he looked well-bred, and was dressed with the same quiet taste and refinement as characterized Mallow. The public-school stamp was on both, and they might have been a couple of young men about town discussing sport rather than an officer of the law and a man who (it seemed from Jennings' hints) was suspected of complicity in a crime.
"Do you mean this for a jest?" said Cuthbert at length.
"I never jest on matters connected with my profession, Mallow. It is too serious a one."
"Naturally. It so often involves the issues of life and death."
"In this case I hope it does not," said Jennings, significantly.
Cuthbert, who was recovering his composure, sat down with a shrug. "I assure you, you have found a mare's nest this time. Whatever my follies may have been, I am not a criminal."
"I never thought you were," rejoined the other, also taking a seat, "but you may have become involved with people who are criminals."
"I dare say half of those one meets in society are worthy of jail, did one know what is done under the rose," returned Cuthbert; "by the way, how did you come so opportunely?"
"I knew you had gone out of town, as I came a few days ago to see you about this matter, and inquired. Your servant said you were in Devonshire – "
"I went to see my mother who was ill," said Mallow quickly.
"I guessed as much. You said something about your mother living in Exeter when we met last. Well, I had Paddington watch for your return, and my messenger – "
"Your spy, you mean," said Mallow angrily.
"Certainly, if you prefer the term. Well, your spy – I mean my spy, reported that you were back, so I came on here. Are you going out?"
"I was, but if you wish to arrest me – "
"Nonsense, man. I have only come to have a quiet chat with you. Believe me, I wish you well. I have not forgotten the old Eton days."
"I tell you what, Jennings, I won't stand this talk from any man. Are you here as a gentleman or as a detective?"
"As both, I hope," replied the other dryly, "but are we not wasting valuable time? If you wish to go out this evening, the sooner we get to business the better. Will you answer my questions?"
"I must know what they are first," said Cuthbert defiantly.
Jennings looked irritated. "If you won't treat me properly, I may as well leave the matter alone," he said coldly. "My position is quite unpleasant enough as it is. I came here to an old schoolfellow as a friend – "
"To try and implicate him in a crime. Thanks for nothing."
Jennings, whose patience appeared to be exhausted, rose. "Very well, then, Mallow. I shall go away and hand over the matter to someone else. I assure you the questions must be answered."
Cuthbert made a sign to the other to be seated, which Jennings seemed by no means inclined to obey. He stood stiffly by his chair as Mallow paced the room reflectively. "After all, I don't see why we should quarrel," said the latter at length.
"That's just what I've been driving at for the last ten minutes."
"Very good," said Mallow soothingly, "let us sit down and smoke. I have no particular engagement, and if you will have some coffee – "
"I will have both cigarette and coffee if you will help me to unravel this case," said Jennings, sitting down with a smoother brow.
"But I don't see what I can – "
"You'll see shortly. Will you be open with me?"
"That requires reflection."
"Reflect as long as you like. But if you decline, I will hand the