Jennings had his own opinion about this. Mrs. Octagon—as was proved by her early history—was capable of doing much, when number one was in question, and Basil was an irresponsible, hysterical fool. In a moment of rage he might have—"But no," said Jennings, breaking off this train of thought. "I can't see the truth. Miss Saxon knows it. You must ask her. Be careful, for your life may depend upon it."
"Bunkum!" said Mallow roughly, "I am not afraid."
"Then you ought to be," said Jennings quickly, "you were down at Rose Cottage on that night and the knife is yours. Certainly you have no motive, but Mrs. Octagon and Maraquito will soon find one, if you don't fall in with their wishes. However, you know what you have to do," and Jennings rose to take his leave, first slipping the knife into his pocket.
"Wait a bit," said Cuthbert, rising. "I'll do what you say. Just drop me a line when the meeting is to be. But I want to tell you—At the Metropolitan Hotel at Brighton I met with my bank manager."
"What of that?"
"He happens to be the manager of the bank where Miss Loach kept her money and where Juliet keeps it now."
"Well," said Jennings, becoming suddenly attentive.
"He didn't tell secrets," went on Mallow, "but we got talking of Basil, and the manager hinted that Basil had had a lucky escape."
"From what?"
"I can't say. The manager—French, his name is—refused to speak more openly, and of course he couldn't. But if Miss Loach had not died, Basil would have got into trouble. He didn't put the matter exactly in these words, but I gathered as much."