“Have you anything to say on that point?” she asked haughtily.

“No!  No!  I merely congratulate you on your generosity.”

“I could not allow my own niece to starve.  I helped her, and then she met with the accident.  After that—­”

“You assisted her to start this gambling-house.”

“By no means.  Mr. Hale found the money for that.  He is in love with Maraquito.  But you can understand why I do not proclaim my relationship with her.  The past of our family is too painful.  I became acquainted with Miss Loach through Mrs. Octagon—­she was then the wife of Mr. Saxon—­when I went to inquire into my sister’s death.  I liked Miss Loach and frequently went to see her.  Now that she is dead I shall leave England.  I have arranged to do so next week, and you will not see me here again.  That is why I gave you this chance of making inquiries.”

“I am much obliged,” said Jennings quite believing her story, since she told it so earnestly:  “but does Maraquito love Hale?”

“No.  She loves Mr. Mallow, Lord Caranby’s nephew.”

“She has a rival in Miss Saxon,” said the detective.

Mrs. Herne turned red.  “My niece fears no rival,” she said haughtily.  “Miss Saxon shall never be the wife of Mr. Mallow.”

Jennings shrugged his shoulders.  “I do not see how she can stop the affair.”

“Oh yes, she can.  The mother is on her side.”

“Ah!  I thought there was some work of that kind.”

“Hear me!” cried Mrs. Herne, imposing silence with a gesture.  “Basil Saxon is in love with Maraquito and she can twist the poor fool round her finger.  She agrees to send him away if Mrs. Octagon stops this most absurd marriage.”

“Which she has done.”

“And which she will continue to do,” said Mrs. Herne decisively; “the mother does not wish Basil to marry my niece, though she is quite as good as they if not better.”

“Well,” drawled Jennings, rising, “I now know why Mrs. Octagon has acted in this way.  There’s no more to be said.”

“Are there any further questions you wish to ask me?  Remember I go abroad forever next week.  You will never see me again.”

“I think I have asked you everything.  By the why,” Jennings balanced his hat between two forefingers, “I suppose your niece’s complaint is incurable?”

“She thought so until lately.  But she has consulted a specialist, who tells her she will walk again in a few months.”

“Then I suppose since she has made money through Hale’s gambling-house she will marry him out of gratitude.”

“She will marry Mallow,” said Mrs. Herne, closing her mouth firmly.

“Lord Caranby may object.”

“His objections will be overcome,” she replied, with a crafty smile.

“In what way?  I am not curious, but—­”

“I have my own opinion of that, Mr. Jennings.”

“Well, I should like to know how the obstinate objections of a firm old man like Caranby are to be overcome.”