Next day Cuthbert received a letter from Jennings. It intimated that Maraquito wished to see him that evening. “If you will call at nine o’clock,” wrote the detective, “she will be alone. The police have decided to close the gambling-house, and she is making preparations to leave England. I understand she has something to tell you in connection with the death of Miss Loach, which it is as well you should hear. A confession on her part may save you a lot of trouble in the future.”
Mallow hesitated to obey this summons. He thought it was strange that Maraquito should get the detective to write to him, as he knew she mistrusted the man. And, apart from this, he had no wish to see Senora Gredos again. Things were now smooth between him and Juliet — comparatively so — and it would not do to rouse the girl’s jealousy. Maraquito was a dangerous woman, and if he paid her a solitary visit, he might fall into some snare which she was quite capable of laying. Such was her infatuation, that he knew she would stop at nothing to gain her ends.
On the other hand, Maraquito, to all appearances, knew of something in connection with the case which it behooved him to learn if he wished for peace in the future. So far as Mallow knew, the matter was at an end. He believed that Jennings had shelved the affair, and that no further inquiries would be made. This belief calmed his anxiety, as he greatly desired to save Basil Saxon from arrest. Certainly, the young scamp protested his innocence, and told a plausible tale, but he was such a liar that Mallow could not be satisfied. He might be innocent as he said, yet the facts of the visit to the cottage, the possession of the knife and of the overcoat which he wore when seen by Juliet, hinted at his guilt. Also the forged bill and check might implicate him in the matter. Did Jennings learn of these things, he would certainly arrest Saxon on suspicion, and, for Juliet’s sake, Cuthbert did not wish such a thing to happen.
It struck Mallow that Hale might have confided in Maraquito, with whom he was in love. Being unscrupulous, she would probably use this information, and might threaten to denounce Basil, to the subsequent disgrace of Juliet, if Cuthbert refused to marry her. Taking these things into consideration, Mallow decided that it would be best to pay the visit and learn what Maraquito had to say.
It was a wild, blustering evening, rainy and damp. When Mallow stepped out of the door he shivered as the keen wind whistled down the street. Few people were abroad, as they preferred, very sensibly, the comfort of a fireside to the windy, gleaming thoroughfares. Wishing his visit to be as secret as possible, Mallow walked to Soho and turned into Golden Square shortly before the appointed hour. He did not expect a pleasant interview, as Maraquito was an uncivilized sort of woman with little control over her very violent emotions. Altogether, he anticipated a disagreeable quarter of an hour.
He was admitted smilingly by a woman, and noticed with some surprise that Gibber the page was not at his accustomed post. But he put this down to the fact that there was no gambling on this particular evening. The windows of the great salon were dark, and Senora Gredos received him in a small apartment which she used as a sitting-room. Her couch was drawn up close to the fire, and she appeared to be in better health than usual. Standing at the door, Mallow thought she made a pretty picture. She had on a white wrapper trimmed with gold lace, and as usual, wore a profusion of jewelry. Across the lower part of the couch was flung a gorgeous purple coverlet of eastern manufacture, and what with the brilliant colors and the glitter of precious stones, she looked remarkably eastern herself. Mallow noticed particularly how Jewish she was in appearance, and wondered how he could have been so blind as not to have remarked it before. The room looked cheerful and warm, and was welcome after the chilly, dreary streets. Mallow, having taken off his overcoat in the hall, came forward and bowed somewhat formally, but Maraquito was not to be put off with so frigid a greeting. Holding out both hands, she shook his warmly and pointed to a chair near her couch. It was now a few minutes after nine.
“How good of you to come and see me,” she said in her deep, rich voice. “The evening was so dull.”
“You are not having any play this evening?”
Maraquito shrugged her fine shoulders and unfurled a quite unnecessary fan, which, to keep up her fiction of being a Spanish lady, she always carried. “Some idiot told the police what was going on and I received a notice to close.”
“But the police knew long ago.”
“Not officially. The police can be silent when it suits. And I always kept things very quiet here. I can’t understand why any objection should be made. I suspect that man Jennings told.”
“I thought you liked him.”
“Oh, I fancied he was a friend of yours and so I made the best of him. But, to tell you the truth, Mr. Mallow, I always mistrusted him. He is much too fond of asking questions for my taste. Then Mr. Hale told me that the man was a detective, so I understood his unwarrantable curiosity. I shall have nothing to do with him in future.”
“In that case,” said Mallow, anxious to arrive at the truth, “I wonder you employ him to write letters for you.”
The woman raised herself on one rounded elbow and looked surprised at this speech. “Really, I don’t think I am so foolish,” said she dryly. “Why do you say that?”
Mallow looked puzzled. “Jennings wrote me a letter, asking me to come here this evening at nine. He said you wished to see me.”
Maraquito’s eyes flashed. “I always wish to see you,” she said, sinking her voice to a tender tone, “and I am much obliged that Mr. Jennings’ note should have brought you here. But I gave him no authority to write it.”
“Have you seen Jennings lately?” asked Cuthbert, more and more puzzled.
“A few nights ago. But he said nothing about you. He simply played cards for a time and then took himself off.”
“Are you leaving England?”
“I am. Being an invalid as you see, I have no amusement but card-playing. Now that the Puritan authorities have stopped that, I cannot stay in this dull country to be bored. But who told you?”
“Jennings said you were making preparations to leave.”
“In this letter he wrote you?” asked Maraquito, frowning.
“Yes. I am sorry I did not bring the letter with me. But I can show it to you on another occasion. He also said you had something to tell me.”
Maraquito fastened her brilliant eyes on his face. “Mr. Jennings seems to know much about my affairs and to take a deep interest in them. But I assure you, I never gave him any authority to meddle.”
“Then why did he write and bring me here?”
Senora Gredos frowned and then her face cleared. “The man is such a secretive creature that I don’t trust him,” she said; “and yet he declared himself to be my friend. He knows I like you, and hinted that he should be glad to bring us together.”
“Jennings is a gentleman in spite of his profession,” said Mallow in cutting tones. “I scarcely think he would take so great a liberty.”
“Is it a liberty?” asked Maraquito softly.
“I consider it to be one. Jennings knows that I am engaged.”
“Stop!” she cried, gripping her fan so tightly that her knuckles grew white. “Do you dare to tell me this?”
“Senora — Maraquito — don’t let us have a scene. I told you before that I could not give you the love you asked.”
“And I told you that I would have that love in spite of your unwillingness,” said the woman doggedly. “You have scorned me, and I ought to have sufficient pride to let you go your own way. But I am such an infatuated fool that I am content to let you tread on me.”
“I have no wish to do that, but —”
“You do — you do — you do!” she said, vehemently. “Why can you not love me? I would be a better wife than that doll you —”
“drop that, Maraquito. Leave Miss Saxon’s name out of the question.”
“I shall talk of Miss Saxon as long as I like,” cried Maraquito, snapping the fan and growing flushed. “You scorn me because I am an invalid —”
“I do not. If you were perfectly restored to health I would give you the same answer.” Mallow was on his feet by this time. “I think it would be wise of me to go.”
But Senora Gredos, stretching out her hand, caught him by the coat convulsively. “No! no! no!” she muttered fiercely. “I did not ask you to come here. I did not send for you. But now that you are here, you will stop. We must understand one another.”
“We do understand one another,” said Cuthbert, who was growing angry at this unreasonable attitude. “You must know that I am engaged to Miss Saxon!”
“You will never marry her — never!” cried Maraquito passionately; “oh, cruel man, can you not see that I am dying of love for you.”
“Maraquito —”
“If I were not chained to this couch,” she said between her teeth, “I should go after her and throw vitriol in her face. I would give her cause to repent having lured you from me with her miserable doll’s face. Pah! the minx!”
Cuthbert grew really angry. “How dare you speak like this?” he said. “If you were able to attack Miss Saxon in the vile way you say, I should show you no mercy.”
“What would you do — what would you do?” she panted.
“Put you in jail. That sort of thing may do abroad but we don’t allow it here. I thought you were merely a foolish woman. Now I know you are bad and wicked.”
“Cuthbert — Cuthbert.”
“My name is Mallow to you, Senora Gredos. I’ll go now and never see you again. I was foolish to come here.”
“Wait — wait,” she cried savagely, “it is just as well that you are here — just as well that we should come to an understanding.”
“There can be no understanding. I marry Miss Saxon and —”
“Never, never, never! Listen, I can ruin her —”
“What do you mean?”
“Her brother —”
“Oh, Basil, I know all about that.”
Maraquito threw herself back on her couch, evidently baffled. “What do you know?” she demanded sullenly.
“That you are about to accuse him of the death of Miss Loach.”
“Yes, I do. He killed her. There is a forged bill in-”
“I know all about that also,” said Cuthbert, making a gesture for her to be silent. “If you hope to stop my marriage............