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. "Even if this is true, which I deny,"
she said in a voice tremulous with rage, "how dare you arrest
me, and for what?"
"For setting that boy Gibber to poison the man who called
himself Tyke. The lad has left your service--which means he
is in hiding."
"I know nothing about this," said Maraquito, suddenly becoming
cool. "Do you mean to arrest me now?"
"I have the warrant and a couple of plain-dress detectives
below. You can't escape."
"I have no wish to escape," she retorted, moving towards a
door which led into an inner room. "I can meet and dispose of
this ridiculous charge. The doctor told me that a sudden
shock might bring back my strength. And that it has done. I
am not Mrs. Herne--I am not Bathsheba Saul. I am Maraquito
Gredos, a Spanish lady--"
"Who doesn't know her own language," said Jennings.
"I pass over your insults," said the woman with dignity. "But
as you intend to take me away, will you please let me enter my
bedroom to change my dress?"
Jennings drew aside and permitted her to pass. "I am not
afraid you will escape," he said politely. "If you attempt to
leave you will fall into the hands of my men. They watch
every door."
Maraquito winced, and with a last look at the astounded
Mallow, passed into the room.
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