"She had no right," said Juliet, looking at her dress, which was rather dusty, "come downstairs and tell me who you are."
She appeared anxious to get him out of the room, and walked before him out of the door. As she passed through Jennings contrived to shut it as though her dress had caught the lower part. Then he lightly turned the key. He could hear Juliet fumbling at the lock. "What is the matter?" she called through.
"The lock has got hampered in some way," said Jennings, rattling the key, "one moment, I'll look at it carefully."
As he said this he made one bound to the chair upon which she had been standing and reached his hand to the cornice at which she had looked. Passing his hand rapidly along it came into contact with an object long and sharp. He drew it down. It was a brand-new knife of the sort called bowie. Jennings started on seeing this object, but having no time to think (for he did not wish to rouse her suspicions), he slipped the knife in his vest and ran again to the door. After a lot of ostentatious fumbling he managed to turn the key again and open the door. Juliet was flushed and looked at him angrily. But she cast no second look at the cornice, which showed Jennings that she did not suspect his ruse.
"Your dress caught the door and shut it," he explained, "the lock seems to be out of order."
"I never knew it was," said Juliet, examining it; "it always locked easy enough before."
"Hum," thought Jennings, "so you have been here before and you have kept the door locked on account of the knife probably," but he looked smilingly at the girl all the time.
"I am sorry," he said, when she desisted from her examination.
"It's my fault," said Juliet unsuspiciously, and closed the door. She led the way along the passage and down the stairs. "Who are you?" she asked, turning round half way down.
"I am a friend of Mallow's," said the detective.