"Yes, I do," said Jennings decisively.
"It's an infernal lie! I don't believe Juliet would think me such a blackguard unless she did not love me—and she does love me."
"Of course," interposed Jennings swiftly, "so much so that she has concealed this knife so as to—as she thinks—save you. Now, can you not see why she asked you to proceed no further in the case for your—own sake. I thought she was shielding her brother. It is you she believes guilty—"
"And therefore will not marry me?"
"No. I don't think for one moment she cares about that. When a woman loves a man she will stick to him through thick and thin. If he is a regular Cain, she will marry him. Bless the whole sex, they are the staunchest of friends when they love. No, Mallow, in some way Mrs. Octagon has learned that you have killed her—"
"But I never did—I never did. I told you everything."
"What you told me may have been told to Mrs. Octagon with additions. She thinks you guilty, and therefore has threatened to denounce you unless Juliet gives you up. She has done so, therefore Mrs. Octagon holds her bitter tongue."
"But her reason for wishing to break off the marriage."
"We discussed that before. In the first place, you are Caranby's nephew and she hates him. In the second, she and Basil want the fingering of the six thousand a year left by Miss Loach. Should you marry Miss Saxon, they know well you will look after her interests, therefore they don't wish the match to take place. I am not quite sure if this is Basil's plan, or if he knows so much, but I am quite certain that the scheme is of Mrs. Octagon's concoction. But now you can see why Miss Saxon behaved so strangely."
"She has no right to take up such a position," cried Cuthbert, with a fierce look. "She should have been plain with me and have accused me to my face."