"Do you find it lucrative?"

Jennings smiled and shrugged his shoulders again. "I do very
well," he said, "but I have not yet made a fortune."

"Ah! And Cuthbert told me you wished to marry."

"I do. But when my fortune will allow me to marry, I don't
know."

Caranby, without raising his voice or looking at his
companion, supplied the information. "I can tell you that,"
said he, "when you learn who killed Miss Loach."

"How is that?"

"On the day you lay your hand on the assassin of that poor
woman I shall give you five thousand pounds."

Jennings' breath was taken away. "A large sum," he murmured.

"She was very dear to me at one time," said Caranby with
emotion. "I would have married her but for the machinations
of her sister."

"Mrs. Octagon?"

"Yes! She wanted to become my wife. The story is a long
one."