But Jennings did not follow him.  He scribbled a note to Peggy, stating that he had to go away on business, and left the Academy.  He felt that it would be impossible to sit down and talk of trivial things—­as he would have to do in the presence of Le Beau—­when he had made such a discovery.  The case was beginning to take shape.  “Can Maraquito have anything to do with the coiners?” he asked himself.  “She is English—­a Jewess—­Saul is a Jewish name.  Can she be of that family?  It seems to me that this case is a bigger one than I imagine.  I wonder what I had better do?”

It was not easy to say.  However, by the time Jennings reached his home—­he had chambers in Duke Street, St. James’—­he decided to see Maraquito.  For this purpose he arrayed himself in accurate evening dress.  Senora Gredos thought he was a mere idler, a man-about-town.  Had she known of his real profession she might not have welcomed him so freely to her house.  Maraquito, for obvious reasons, had no desire to come into touch with the authorities.

But it must not be thought that she violated the law in any very flagrant way.  She was too clever for that.  Her house was conducted in a most respectable manner.  It was situated in Golden Square, and was a fine old mansion of the days when that locality was fashionable.  Her servants were all neat and demure.  Maraquito received a few friends every evening for a quiet game of cards, so on the surface no one could object to that.  But when the doors were closed, high play went on and well-known people ventured large sums on the chances of baccarat.  Also, people not quite so respectable came, and it was for that reason Scotland Yard left the house alone.  When any member of the detective staff wished to see anyone of a shady description, the person could be found at Maraquito’s.  Certainly, only the aristocracy of crime came here, and never a woman.  Maraquito did not appear to love her own sex.  She received only gentlemen, and as she was an invalid and attended constantly by a duenna in the form of a nurse, no one could say anything.  The police knew in an underhand way that the Soho house was a gambling saloon, but the knowledge had not come officially, therefore no notice was taken.  But Maraquito’s servants suspected nothing, neither did the gossips of the neighborhood.  Senora Gredos was simply looked upon as an invalid fond of entertaining because of her weariness in being confined to her couch.

Jennings had appointed a meeting with Mallow in this semi-respectable establishment, and looked round when he entered the room.  It was a large apartment, decorated in the Adams style and furnished as a luxurious drawing-room.  At the side near the window there was a long table covered with green baize.  Round this several gentlemen in evening dress were standing.  Others played games of their own at separate small tables, but most of them devoted themselves to baccarat.  Maraquito held the bank.  Her couch was drawn up against the wall, and the red silk curtains of the window made a vivid background to her dark beauty.