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Updated: June 18, 2025
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.
In our interview at Hampstead you betrayed yourself when we talked of Mallow. I had you watched. You were seen to enter this house, and out of it Mrs. Herne never came. Your servants do not know Mrs. Herne only their invalid mistress." Maraquito, seeing her danger, panted with rage, and looked like a trapped animal.
Herne doesn't know Maraquito." "I am not so sure of that. Susan Grant thinks she may be Maraquito's mother, she is so like her in an elderly way. Did you know this Mrs. Saul?" "No. I knew the brother who came to speak to me after the death of his sister, and who afterwards was put in jail for coining. His wife I never met. I never even heard of her.
Now that Selina is dead, Isabella is under the thumb of Maraquito." "This is all theory," said Jennings impatiently. "We can only theorize in our present state of uncertainty," was the reply of the nobleman. "But my explanation is a reasonable one." "I do not deny that. But why should Maraquito send for Mrs. Octagon?"
"Professor," he said, when somewhat better, "I have come to ask you about a lady. A friend of mine has fallen in love with her, and he thought you might know of her." "Eh, wha-a-at, mon cher? I understands nozzin'. Ze lady, quel nom?" "Maraquito Gredos." "Espagnole," murmured Le Beau, shaking his wig. "Non. I do not know ze name. Dancers of Spain.
It was situated in Golden Square, and was a fine old mansion of the days when that locality was fashionable. Her servants were all neat and demure. Maraquito received a few friends every evening for a quiet game of cards, so on the surface no one could object to that. But when the doors were closed, high play went on and well-known people ventured large sums on the chances of baccarat.
When he knows the truth he will stop searching further into the case. If I hold my tongue, he may go on, and make awkward discoveries." "Yes, I see it is best you should tell him. But Miss Saxon?" "She shall never know. Let her think Maraquito killed Emilia. Only you, I and Jennings will know the truth."
"I can tell Jennings that you are Bathsheba Saul!" She turned quite pale. "I? My name is Maraquito Gredos." "It is nothing of the sort. My uncle Lord Caranby came here and recognized you from your likeness to the woman Emilia he was once engaged to. He can state that in court." "Where is his proof?" "Proof will be forthcoming when necessary." "Not to prove that I am Bathsheba Saul.
She gazed smilingly at Lord Caranby, yet there was a nervous look in her eyes. "I have heard of you from Mr. Mallow," she said flushing. "My nephew. He comes here at times. Indeed," said Caranby gallantly, "it was his report of your beauty that brought me here to-night." Maraquito sighed. "The wreck of a beauty," said she bitterly, "three years ago indeed but I met with an accident." "So I heard.
Herne were all out of the house before the blow had been struck, and, moreover, there was no reason why they should murder a harmless old lady. Maraquito confined to her couch could not possibly have anything to do with the crime. Mrs. Octagon did hate her sister, but she certainly would not risk killing her.
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