Also he was not the sort of man to murder an inoffensive old woman, the more especially as he--on the face of it--had no motive to commit so brutal an act, or to jeopardize his neck.

Struck by his friend's silence, Mallow looked up suddenly.

Whether he read the truth in Jennings' eyes or the recollection of Jennings' profession brought the Crooked Lane crime into his mind, it is impossible to say.

But he suddenly grew pale and dropped the knife with a look of abhorrence.
"Yes," said Jennings, in reply to his mute inquiry, "that is the knife that was used to stab Miss Loach." "This knife ?" said Mallow, with a gasp, "but how the dickens," he used a stronger word, "did my knife come to be used in that way ?" "I should like you to explain that," said the detective icily.
"Good heavens, Jennings, you don't think--" "What am I to think," said Jennings coldly, "I swear I never suspected you, Mallow.

To own the truth, I don't suspect you now, but for your own sake--for your own safety, explain how that knife came to be in Miss Loach's house." "I can't say," cried Cuthbert, vehemently, "really I can't.