"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.
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