play decently and lose his money like a gentleman. How Juliet
ever came to have such a bounder for a brother I can't
imagine. She's the soul of honor, and Basil--bah!"

"He quarrelled with his aunt," murmured Jennings, "and he has
a violent temper, as we both knew. Humph! He may have
something to do with the matter. Do you know where he was on
that night?"

"Yes. Juliet and he went to the Marlow Theatre to see a
melodrama by a new playwright."

"Ha!" said Jennings half to himself, "and the Marlow Theatre
is not far from Rexton. I'll make a note of that. Had they a
box?"

"I believe so. It was sent by the man who wrote the play."

"Who is he?"

"I can't say. One of that lot who play at being poets in
Octagon House. A set of idiots. But what do you make of all
this, Jennings?"

"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