"Mallow gambled a little at Maraquito's, as did your brother. The only difference is that Mallow could afford to lose and your brother could not. Are you sure you never heard the name of Maraquito?"
"Quite sure," said Juliet, meeting his gaze so calmly that he saw she was speaking the truth. "Well, I understand how you got the photograph, but how did this woman get it? I never heard my aunt mention her, either as Maraquito or as Senora Gredos."
"Was your aunt open with you?"
"Perfectly open. She had nothing in her life to conceal."
"I am not so sure of that," murmured the detective. "Well, I cannot say how Maraquito became possessed of this photograph."
Juliet shrugged her shoulders. "In that case we may dismiss the matter," she said, wiping her dry lips; "and I can't see what the photograph has to do with this crime."
"I can't see it myself, but one never knows."
"Do you accuse Mr. Mallow?"
"Supposing I did. I know Mr. Mallow was near this place on the night of the murder and about the hour."
Juliet leaned against the wall and turned away her face. "It is not true. What should bring him there?"