"I think with you that Mrs. Octagon and her cub of a son are trying to stop the marriage by bringing you into the matter of the crime. Were you down there on that night?"
"Yes," said Cuthbert with hesitation, and to Jennings' surprise, "I did not intend to say anything about it, as my uncle asked me to hold my tongue. But since things have come to this pass, you may as well know that I was there—and about the time of the murder too."
Jennings sat up and stared. "Great heavens! Mallow, why didn't you tell me this the other night?"
"You might have arrested me then and there," retorted Cuthbert. "I promised my uncle to hold my tongue. But now—"
"You will tell me all. My dear fellow, make a clean breast of it."
"Rest easy, you shall learn everything. You know that the house at the back of Rose Cottage has been deserted for something like twenty years more or less."
"Yes. You told me about it the other night."
"Caranby ran a fifteen-feet wall round it and the inside is a regular jungle. Well, the house is supposed to be haunted. Lights have been seen moving about and strange noises have been heard."
"What kind of noises?"
"Oh, moans and clanking chains and all that sort of thing. I heard indirectly about this, through Juliet."