But there was something sensual and
evil about her exuberance. But not a whisper had been heard
against her reputation. Everyone, sorry for the misfortune
which condemned this lovely woman to a sickbed, treated her
with respect. Maraquito, as some people said, may have been
wicked, but no anchorite could have led, on the face of it, a
more austere life. Her smile was alluring, and she looked
like the Lurline drawing men to destruction. Fortunes had
been lost in that quiet room.
When Jennings entered, Maraquito was opening a fresh pack of
cards, while the players counted their losses or winnings and
fiddled with the red chips used in the game. On seeing the
newcomer, Senora Gredos gave him a gracious smile, and said
something to the pale, thin woman in black who stood at the
head of her couch. The nurse, or duenna--she served for
both--crossed to Jennings as he advanced towards the buffet,
on which stood glasses and decanters of wine.
"Madame wishes to know why you have not brought Mr. Mallow."
"Tell madame that he will be here soon. I have to meet him in
this place," said the detective to the duenna, and watched the
effect of the message on Maraquito.
Her face flushed, her eyes brightened, but she did not look
again in Jennings' direction. On the contrary, she gave all
her attention to the game which was now in progress, but
Jennings guessed that her thoughts were with Mallow, and
occasionally he caught her looking for his appearance at the
door.
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