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Updated: July 28, 2025
Octagon now has a literary salon in Boston, and is regarded as one of the leading spirits of the age. Basil married an heiress. Peter, weary of playing the part of husband to a celebrity, remained in England but not in London. He sold the "Shrine of the Muses" and took a cottage on an estate in Kent belonging to Lord Caranby.
Senora Gredos turned quite pale and clenched her hands, but she managed to control herself again with a powerful effort and masked the rage she felt under a bland, false smile. "Oh, that makes a difference," she said calmly. "I hope they will be happy if they marry," she added significantly. "Oh, that is quite settled," said Caranby.
It caught fire in some way last night, about eight o'clock. There was a high wind blowing, and the house has been burnt to the ground. Not only that, but, as the weather has been dry, the whole of the trees and shrubs and undergrowth in the park have gone likewise. I am informed that everything within the circle of that wall is a heap of ashes. Quite a burning of Rome," chuckled Caranby.
Well, I hope this violent death of Selina will be a warning to Caranby. Not that I wish him any harm, in spite of your being next heir to the title, and we do need money." While Mrs. Mallow rambled on in this diffusive manner, Cuthbert was thinking. When she ended, "Why should this death be a warning to Caranby?" he asked quickly. "Good gracious, Cuthbert, don't get on my nerves.
"Who is this, Lord Caranby?" "Senora Gredos." "Maraquito!" cried Juliet, starting back with an indignant look. "I never expected to meet that woman " "You call me that?" cried Maraquito, flashing, up into a passion. "I am the woman Cuthbert loves." "He does not. He loves me. You, so old and " "Old!" shrieked Maraquito, snatching off her hat and cap. "I am young and much more beautiful than you.
"A confession!" murmured Cuthbert, going out of the room to get pen, ink and paper. "What about?" He soon knew, for when he was established by the side of the bed with his writing materials on a small table, Caranby laughed to himself quietly. "Do you know what I am about to say?" he gasped. "No. If it is nothing important you had better not exhaust yourself."
"I shall see that she gets her deserts." "What do you suspect her of?" asked Caranby hastily. "I can't tell you yet. I have no proofs. But I am suspicious." "She is a bad woman," said the old man. "I am certain of that. And she will stop at nothing to marry Cuthbert. But this is not what I came to see you about, Mr. Jennings. You asked my permission to go over my house at Rexton?" "I did.
Octagon likewise. Cuthbert listened quietly, and then gave the man, whom he knew well, half a sovereign. "Tell Mrs. Octagon that Lord Caranby wishes to see her." "Yes, sir, but I don't " "I am Lord Caranby. My uncle died this evening." The butler opened his eyes. "Yes, m'lord," he said promptly, and admitted Cuthbert into the hall.
"Dead!" she muttered, and dropped on to the sofa. "He died two hours ago. I am now Lord Caranby." "You won't grace the position," said Mrs. Octagon viciously, and then her face became gloomy. "Dead! Walter Mallow. Ah! I loved him so." "You had a strange way of showing it then," said Cuthbert, calmly, and he also took a seat. Mrs. Octagon immediately rose.
"She went to see Lord Caranby in disguise," said the inspector, "you can see her face is made up. Does his lordship know who she is?" "Yes. And Mr. Jennings, the detective, knows also." "Perhaps you do yourself, Mr. Mallow?" Cuthbert nodded. "She is Maraquito, the " "What! the gambling-house coiner we have been looking for?" "The same. Jennings can tell you more about the matter than I can."
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