The most obvious thing for Cuthbert to do was to seek Juliet and ask for an explanation of her mysterious note. He went to the “Shrine of the Muses” the very next day, but was informed that Miss Saxon and her mother had gone out of town and would not be back for a few days. He could not learn where they were, and was leaving the house somewhat disconsolately when he met Basil.

“You here, Mallow,” said that young gentleman, stopping short, “have you been to see my mother?”

“I went to see Juliet,” replied Cuthbert, not sorry that the meeting had taken place, “but I hear she is out of town.”

“Well, not exactly. The fact is, she and my mother have gone down to Rose Cottage and intend to stop there until the funeral is over and the will is read.”

“The will?” echoed Mallow.

“Yes. Aunt Selina is likely to leave a great deal of money. I expect it will all go to Juliet. She never liked me.”

“Yet you were frequently at her house.”

“I was,” confessed Basil candidly. “I tried to make myself as civil as possible, so that she might remember me. Between ourselves, Mallow, I am deuced hard up. My mother hasn’t much money, I have none of my own, and old Octagon is as stingy as he well can be.”

This sounded well coming from an idler who never did a stroke of work, and who lived on the charity of his step-father. But Basil had peculiar views as to money. He considered himself a genius, and that Peter should be proud to support him until, as he phrased it, he had “stamped his name on the age”! But the stamping took a long time, and Basil troubled himself very little about the matter. He remarked that genius should not be forced, and loafed away the greater portion of his days. His mother kept him in pocket-money and clothes, Peter supplied board and lodging, and Basil got through life very pleasantly. He wished to be famous, to have his name in every mouth and his portrait in every paper; but the work that was necessary to obtain these desirable things he was unwilling to do. Cuthbert knew that the young fellow had been “born tired”! and although something of an idler himself, liked Basil none the more for his laziness. Had Mallow been poor he would certainly have earned his bread, but he had a good income and did not work. And, after all, he only pursued the way of life in which he had been brought up. But Basil was poor and had his career to make, therefore he certainly should have labored. However, for Juliet’s sake, Cuthbert was as polite as possible.

“If I were you, Saxon, I should leave cards alone,” said Mallow.

“Nonsense! I don’t play high. Besides, I have seen you at Maraquito’s also losing a lot.”

“I can afford to lose,” said Cuthbert dryly, “you can’t.”

“No, by Jove, you’re right there. But don’t preach, Mallow, you ain’t such a saint yourself.”

“Can I help you with a cheque?”

Basil had good breeding enough to color.

“No! I didn’t explain myself for that,” he said coldly, “and besides, if Juliet comes in for Aunt Selina’s money, I’ll get some. Juliet and I always share.”

This meant that Juliet was to give the money and Basil to spend it. Mallow was disgusted with this candid selfishness. However, he did not wish to quarrel with Basil, as he knew Juliet was fond of him, and moreover, in the present state of affairs, he was anxious to have another friend besides Mr. Octagon in the house. “Perhaps Miss Loach may have left you some money after all,” he remarked.

“By Jove, I hope so. I’ll be in a hole if she has not. There’s a bill —” here he stopped, as though conscious of having said too much. “But that will come into Juliet’s possession,” he murmured.

“What’s that?” asked Cuthbert sharply.

“Nothing — nothing — only a tailor’s bill. As to getting money by the will, don’t you know I quarrelled with Aunt Selina a week before her death. Yes, she turned me out of the house.” Here Basil’s face assumed what may be described as an ugly look. “I should like to have got even with the old cat. She insulted me.”

“Gently, old fellow,” said Mallow, seeing that Basil was losing his temper, and having occasionally seen him in fits of uncontrollable passion, “we’re in the public street.”

Basil’s brow cleared. “All right,” he said, “don’t bother, I’ll be all right when Juliet gets the money. By the way, mother tells me you are not going to marry her.”

“Your mother is mistaken,” rejoined Mallow gravely. “Juliet and I are still engaged. I do not intend to give her up.”

“I told mother you would not give in easily,” said Basil, frowning, “but you can’t marry Juliet.”

“Why not?” asked Cuthbert sharply; “do you know the reason?”

Basil appeared about to say something, then suddenly closed his mouth and shook his head.

Cuthbert pressed him. “If you know the reason, tell me,” he said, “and I’ll help you out of your difficulties. You know I love Juliet, and your mother does not seem to have any excuse to forbid the marriage.”

“I would help you if I could, but I can’t. You had better ask Juliet herself. She may tell you the reason.”

“How can I find her?”

“Go down to Rose Cottage and ask to see her,” suggested Basil.

“Your mother will not admit me.”

“That’s true enough. Well, I’ll tell you what, Mallow, I’ll speak to Juliet and get her to make an appointment to see you.”

“I could write and ask her for one myself.”

“Oh, no, you couldn’t. Mother will intercept all letters.”

“Upon my word —” began Mallow angrily, then stopped. It was useless to show his wrath before this silly boy, who could do no good and might do a deal of harm. “Very well, then,” he said more mildly, “ask Juliet to meet me on the other side of Rexton, under the wall which runs round the unfinished house.”

Basil started. “Why that place?” he asked nervously.

“It is as good as any other.”

“You can’t get inside.”

“That’s true enough. But we can meet outside. I have been inside though, and I made a mess of myself climbing the wall.”

“You were inside,” began Basil, then suddenly appeared relieved. “I remember; you were there on the day after Aunt Selina was killed.”

“I have been there before that,” said Cuthbert, wondering why the young man avoided his eye in so nervous a manner.

“Not at — at night?” murmured Saxon, looking away.

“Once I was there at night. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing — nothing. I was just thinking it’s a wild place in which to find one’s self at night. By the way,” added Basil, as though anxious to change a disagreeable subject, “do you think Jarvey Hale a nice fellow?”

“No, I don’t. I have met him at Maraquito’s, and I don’t like him. He’s a bounder. Moreover, a respectable lawyer has no right to gamble to the extent he does. I wonder Miss Loach trusted him.”

“Perhaps she didn’t know of his gambling,” said Basil, his eyes wandering everywhere but to the face of his companion; “but, should you think Hale would be hard on a fellow?”

“Yes, I should. Do you owe him money?”

“A few pounds. He won’t give me time to pay. And I say, Mallow, I suppose all Aunt Selina’s affairs will be left in Hale’s hands?”

“I can’t say. It depends upon the will. If everything is left to Juliet, unconditionally, she may take her affairs out of Hale’s hands. I should certainly advise her to do so. He’s too intimate with Maraquito and her gambling salon to be a decent lawyer.”

“You do seem down on gambling,” said Basil, “yet you gamble yourself a lot. But I expect Juliet will change her lawyer. I hope she will.”

“Why?” asked Cuthbert sharply.

“Oh,” replied Basil, confused, “because I agree with you. A gambler will not make a good lawyer — or a good husband either,” he added in an abrupt tone. “Good-day. I’ll tell Juliet,” and he was off before Mallow could find words to answer his last remark.

Cuthbert, walking back to his rooms, wondered if it was on account of the gambling that Mrs. Octagon objected to the marriage. He really did not gamble much, but occasionally he dropped into Maraquito’s house, and there lost or won a few pounds. Here he had often met Basil, and without doubt the young man had told his mother. But he could hardly do this without incriminating himself. All the same, Basil was a thorough liar, and a confirmed tattler. He might have blackened Mallow’s character, and yet have told a story to exonerate himself. His friendship appe............