She was, indeed, a handsome woman—­so much of her as could be seen.  Half-sitting, half-reclining on her couch, the lower part of her frame was swathed in eastern stuffs sparkling with gold threads.  She wore a yellow silk dress trimmed about the shoulders with black lace and glittering with valuable jewels.  Her neck and arms were finely moulded and of a dazzling whiteness.  Her small head was proudly set on her shoulders, and her magnificent black hair smoothly coiled in lustrous tresses above her white forehead.  Her lips were full and rich, her eyes large and black, and her nose was thin and high.  The most marked feature of her face were the eyebrows, which almost met over her nose.  She had delicate hands and beautiful arms which showed themselves to advantage as she manipulated the cards.  From the gorgeous coverlet her bust rose like a splendid flower, and for an invalid she had a surprising color.  She was indeed, as Jennings had remarked, like a tropical flower.  But there was something sensual and evil about her exuberance.  But not a whisper had been heard against her reputation.  Everyone, sorry for the misfortune which condemned this lovely woman to a sickbed, treated her with respect.  Maraquito, as some people said, may have been wicked, but no anchorite could have led, on the face of it, a more austere life.  Her smile was alluring, and she looked like the Lurline drawing men to destruction.  Fortunes had been lost in that quiet room.

When Jennings entered, Maraquito was opening a fresh pack of cards, while the players counted their losses or winnings and fiddled with the red chips used in the game.  On seeing the newcomer, Senora Gredos gave him a gracious smile, and said something to the pale, thin woman in black who stood at the head of her couch.  The nurse, or duenna—­she served for both—­crossed to Jennings as he advanced towards the buffet, on which stood glasses and decanters of wine.

“Madame wishes to know why you have not brought Mr. Mallow.”

“Tell madame that he will be here soon.  I have to meet him in this place,” said the detective to the duenna, and watched the effect of the message on Maraquito.

Her face flushed, her eyes brightened, but she did not look again in Jennings’ direction.  On the contrary, she gave all her attention to the game which was now in progress, but Jennings guessed that her thoughts were with Mallow, and occasionally he caught her looking for his appearance at the door.  “How that woman loves him,” he thought, “I wonder I never noticed it before.  Quite an infatuation.”  For a time he watched the players staking large amounts, and saw the pile of gold at Maraquito’s elbow steadily increasing.  She seemed to have all the luck.  The bank was winning and its opponents losing, but the play went on steadily for at least half an hour.  At the end of that time a newcomer entered the room.  Jennings, who had glanced at his watch, quite expected to see Cuthbert.  But, to his surprise, he came face to face with Lord Caranby.