"What I say. Is it only to save you that I am to marry Juliet? My marriage must be one of love—"
"She does love you. And I don't see," added Basil complainingly, "why you should jump on a chap for wishing for your happiness—"
"And your own safety."
"Oh, bosh! The bill is destroyed. Juliet put it into the fire, and Hale will sell the check at his own price."
"His price is that I am to marry Juliet."
"So that he can marry Maraquito, I suppose. I know that she loves you and that Hale is crazy about her. It's very hard on me," whined the egotistical youth, "for I want to marry her myself, only mother put her spoke in my wheel."
"Dare you offer yourself to Maraquito, bad as she is, knowing what you are?" cried Mallow, fairly disgusted.
"Oh, the forgeries. What of them? It's nothing." Basil snapped his fingers. "Maraquito won't mind. But I suppose I'll have to give her up on account of that infernal check. Such a small one as it was too. I wish I had made it one hundred and fifty. I could have done so."
In the face of this callous behavior it was sheer wrongdoing to spare the man. "I do not allude to the forgery, though that is bad enough," said Cuthbert, glancing round to see that the door was closed, "but to the murder of your aunt. You killed her."
Basil leaped from his chair with great indignation. "I did not. How dare you accuse me?" he panted.