Mrs. Octagon bounded after him and pulled him back by the
coat-tails into the centre of the room. Then she locked the
door and sat down. "We won't be disturbed," she said, wiping
her face upon which the perspiration stood, "what do you
know?"
"Everything, even to that letter you wrote to my uncle,
stating he should see the pretended Selina Loach."
This was a chance shot on Mallow's part, but it told, for he
saw her face change. In fact, Mrs. Octagon was the only woman
who could have sent the letter. She did not attempt to deny
it. "I sent that letter, as I was weary of that woman's
tyranny. I thought it would get her into trouble."
"She would have got you into trouble also. Suppose she had
lived and had told the story of Selina's death."
"She would have put the rope round her own neck," said Mrs.
Octagon in a hollow tone, all her theatrical airs gone. "I
was a fool to wait so long. For twenty years that woman has
held me under her thumb. It was Emilia that made me consent
to your engagement to Juliet. Otherwise," she added
malevolently, "I should have died rather than have consented.
Oh," she shook her hands in the air, "how I hate you and your
uncle and the whole of the Mallows."
"A woman scorned, I see," said Cuthbert, rather cruelly,
"well, you must be aware that I know everything."
"You don't know who killed Emilia?"
"Maraquito said it was you."
"I" shrieked Mrs. Octagon, "how dare she? But that she is
dead, as Juliet told me, I would have her up for libel.
Pages:
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336