"What am I to think," said Jennings coldly, "I swear I never suspected you, Mallow. To own the truth, I don't suspect you now, but for your own sake—for your own safety, explain how that knife came to be in Miss Loach's house."
"I can't say," cried Cuthbert, vehemently, "really I can't. I swear I never missed it until you drew my attention to the blank left in the trophy of arms yonder." He flung himself into a seat, and passed his hand through his hair with a bewildered air. "Surely, Jennings, you do not think me guilty of killing that poor wretch?"
Jennings stretched out his hand, which Mallow grasped. "There is my answer," said the detective, "of course I don't suspect you. The mere fact that you own the knife is yours shows me that you are innocent. But the fact that this particular weapon was used reveals to me the strange behavior of Miss Saxon—her motive, I mean."
Cuthbert jumped up. "What has Juliet to do with this?" he asked.
"I went to see her," explained Jennings rapidly, "and was shown up to the attic of Rose Cottage by Mrs. Pill. Miss Saxon was standing on a chair with her hand on the cornice. I managed to place my hand in the same place—it matters not how—and there I found that."
"This knife?" Cuthbert, still bewildered, took up the formidable weapon. "But how did she become possessed of it?"
"You must ask her that."
"I? Why did you not ask her yourself?"
"She would have lied to me—for your sake."
"For my sake? Do you mean to say she thinks I am guilty?"