"I came to ask you a few questions, Mallow."

"About what?"

"About the murder at Rose Cottage."

"But, my dear fellow, I know nothing about it."

"You knew Miss Loach?"

"Yes. I saw her once or twice. But I did not like her."

"She is the aunt of the young lady you are engaged to marry?"

Mallow drew himself up stiffly. "As a matter of fact she is,"
he said with marked coldness. "But I don't see--"

"You will in a minute," said Jennings briskly. "Pardon me,
but are you in love with another woman?"

Mallow grew red. "What the devil do you mean by coming here
to ask me such a question?" he demanded.

"Gently, Mallow, I am your friend, and you may need one."

"What do you mean. Do you accuse me of--"

"I accuse you of nothing," said Jennings quickly, "but I ask
you, why did you give this photograph, with an inscription, to