“Never, never, never!  Listen, I can ruin her—­”

“What do you mean?”

“Her brother—­”

“Oh, Basil, I know all about that.”

Maraquito threw herself back on her couch, evidently baffled.  “What do you know?” she demanded sullenly.

“That you are about to accuse him of the death of Miss Loach.”

“Yes, I do.  He killed her.  There is a forged bill in—­”

“I know all about that also,” said Cuthbert, making a gesture for her to be silent.  “If you hope to stop my marriage with Miss Saxon by such means, you have wasted your time,” he moved again towards the door.  “It is time this interview ended,” he said.

“Why did you seek it then?” she flashed out.

“I did not.  Jennings wrote, asking me to call and see you.  I understood that you had something to say to me.”

“I have much—­though how that detestable man knew I can’t think.  But I can disgrace that doll of a girl through her brother.”

“No, you cannot.  Basil is perfectly innocent of murder.”

“You have to prove that,” she sneered, her features quivering and one white hand clutching the purple drapery, “and you know—­ so you say, that Basil is a forger.”

“He is a fool.  I don’t condone his folly, but his sister shall not suffer on his account.  The bill to which Miss Loach’s name was forged is in the possession of Miss Saxon—­ in fact I may tell you that Basil himself assured me it had been destroyed.”

“Of course he would say that,” scoffed Maraquito, her eyes flashing, “but the check to which Hale’s name is affixed is not destroyed, and Hale shall proceed on that.”

“Hale shall not do so,” said Cuthbert resolutely.  He did not wish to betray Hale’s confidence, as a confession would entail the man’s loss of the woman he loved.  But it was necessary to stop Maraquito somehow; and Cuthbert attempted to do so in his next words, which conveyed a distinct threat.  “And you will not move in the matter.”

Maraquito laughed in an evil manner.  “Won’t I?” she taunted.  “I just will.  Hale will do what I want, and he will have Basil arrested unless you promise to give up this girl and marry me.”

“Hale will do nothing, neither will you,” retorted Cuthbert.  “I don’t care about threatening a woman, but you must not think that you are able to play fast and loose with me.”

“How can you hurt me?” asked Maraquito with a scornful smile, although her lips quivered at his tone.

“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.  I know nothing of the name.”