“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.”