"Mrs. Octagon bases her refusal to allow the
marriage on the fact of the death. However, you have warned
her, and she must take the consequence."
"But, my dear Jennings, you don't think she has anything to do
with the matter. I assure you she is a good, kind woman--"
"With a violent temper, according to your mother," finished
Jennings dryly. "However, don't alarm yourself. I don't
think she is guilty."
"I should think not," cried Mallow, indignantly. "Juliet's
mother!"
"But she may have something to do with the matter all the
same. However, you have been plain with me, and I will do all
I can to help you. The first thing is for us to follow up the
clue of the portrait."
"Ah, yes! I had quite forgotten that," said Mallow, casting a
look on the photograph which lay near at hand. "Just pass it,
will you."
Miles did so. "You say you recognize it," he said.
"I recognize my own face. I had several portraits done like
this. I think this one--" Mallow looked at the inscription
which he read for the first time, and his face grew pale.
"What is it?" asked Miles eagerly.
"I don't know," faltered the other uneasily.
"You recognize the inscription?"
"Yes, I certainly wrote that."
"It is quite a tender inscription," said Miles, his eyes on
the disturbed face of the other. "'With my dear love,' it
reads."
Cuthbert laid down the portrait and nodded. "Yes! That is
the inscription," he said in low tones, and his eyes sought
the carpet.
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