CHAPTER XI on the track Professor LeBeau kept a school of dancing in Pimlico and incessantly trained pupils for the stage. Many of them had appeared with more or less success in the ballets at the empire and Alhambra and he was widely known amongst star-struck aspirants as charging moderately and teaching in a most painstaking manner. He thus made an income which, if not large, was at least secure and was assisted in the school by his niece Peggy Garthorn. She was the manager of his house and looked after the money, otherwise the little professor would never have been able to lay aside for the future. But when the brother of the late Madame LeBeau, an Englishwoman, died, his sister took charge of the orphan. Now that Madame herself was dead, Peggy looked after the professor out of gratitude and love. She was fond of the excitable little Frenchman and knew how to manage him to a nicety. It was to the Dancing Academy that Jennings turned his steps a few days after the interview with Susan. He had been a constant visitor there for eighteen months and was deeply in love with Peggy. On a bank holiday he had been fortunate enough to rescue her from a noisy crowd half-drunk and indulging in horse-play, and had escorted her home to receive the profuse thanks of the professor. The detective was attracted by the quaint little man and he called again to inquire for Peggy. A friendship thus inaugurated ripened into a deeper feeling and within nine months Jennings proposed for the hand of the humble girl. She consented and so did LeBeau, although he was rather rueful at the thought of losing his mainstay. But Peggy promised him that she would look after him until after he retired and with this promise LeBeau was content. He was now close on seventy and he could not hope to teach much longer. But thanks to Peggy's clever head and saving habits he had, as the French say, plenty of bread baked to eat during his days of dearth. The academy was situated down a narrow street far removed from the main thoroughfares. Quiet houses belonging to poor people stood on either side of this lane, for that it was, and at the end appeared the academy blocking the exit from that quarter. It stood right in the middle of the street and turned the lane into a blind alley. But a narrow right-of-way passed along the side and around to the back where the street began again under a new name. The position of the place was quaint and often it had been intended to remove the obstruction, but the owner, an eccentric person of great wealth, had hitherto refused to allow it to be pulled down. But the owner was now old and it was expected that his heirs would take away the building and allow the lane to run freely through to the other street. Still it would last Professor LeBeau's time, for his heart would have broken had he been compelled to move. He had taught there for the last thirty years and had become part and parcel of the neighborhood. Jennings quietly dressed in blue surge with brown boots and a bowler hat, turned down the lane and advanced towards the double door of the academy which was surmounted by an allegorical group of plaster figures designed by LeBeau himself and representing Orpheus teaching trees and animals to dance. The illusion was not complementary to his pupils, for if LeBeau figured as Orpheus what were the animals? However the hot-tempered little man refused to change his allegory and the group remained. Jennings passed under it and into the building with a smile which the sight of those figures always evoked. Within the building on the ground floor was divided into two rooms, a large hall for dancing lessons and a small apartment used indifferently as a reception room and an office. Above on the first story were the sitting room, the dining room and the kitchen, and on the third under a high conical roof the two bedrooms of the professor and Peggy, with an extra one for any stranger who might remain. Where Margot the French cook and maid of all work slept was a mystery. So it will be seen that the accommodation of the house was extremely limited. However LeBeau looked after by Peggy and Margot, who was devoted to him, was extremely well pleased and extremely happy in his light, airy French way. In the office was Peggy making up some accounts. She was a pretty small maiden of twenty-five neatly dressed in a clean print gown and looking like a dewy daisy. Her eyes were blue, her hair the color of ripe corn, and her cheeks were of a delicate rose. There was something pastoral about Peggy, smacking of meadowlands and milking-time. She should have been a shepherdess looking after her flock rather than a girl toiling in a dingy office. How such a rural flower ever sprung up amongst London houses was a mystery Jennings could not make out. And according to her own tale Peggy had never lived in the country. What with the noise of fiddling which came from the large hall, and the fact of being absorbed in her work, Peggy never heard the entrance of her lover. Jennings stole quietly toward her, admiring the pretty picture she made with a ray of dusky sunlight making her hair a glory.  Oh! cried Peggy, dropping her pen and removing his hands. The only man who would dare to take such a liberty with me. Miles my darling pig, and she kissed him, laughing. I don't like the last word, Peggy. It's Papalobo's favorite word with his pupils, said Peggy, who always spoke of the Dancing Master thus. With the addition of darling? No, that is an addition of my own, but I can remove it if you like. I don't like, said Miles, sitting down and pulling her towards him. Come and talk to me, Pegtop. I won't be called Pegtop, and as to talking I have far too much work to do. The lesson will be soon over and some of the pupils have to take these accounts home. Then Dijonere will be ready, and you know how Margot hates having her well-cooked dishes spoiled by waiting. But why are you here instead of at work? Hush, said Miles, laying a finger on her lips. Papa will hear you. Not he.  Does a Gamecock scold? asked Jennings gravely. I hope he is not in a bad temper, Peggy. I have come to ask him a few questions. About your own business? she asked in a lower tone. Jennings nodded. Peggy knew his occupation, but as yet he had not been able to tell LeBeau. The Frenchman cherished all the traditional hatred of his race for the profession of mouchard and would not be able to understand that he, detective, was of a higher standing. Miles was therefore supposed to be a gentleman of independent fortune, and both he and Peggy decided to inform LeBeau of the truth, when he had retired from business. Meanwhile, Miles often talked over his business with Peggy, and usually found her clear way of looking at things of infinite assistance to him in the sometimes difficult cases which he dealt with. Peggy knew all about the murder in Crooked Lane and how Miles was dealing with the matter. But even she had not been able to suggest a clue to the assassin, although she was in full possession of the facts. It's about this new case I wish to speak, said Jennings. By the way, Peggy, do you know that woman Marquito I have talked of? Yes, the gambling-house. Whatever. Well, she seems to be implicated in the matter. In what way? Miles related the episode of the photograph and the incident of the same perfume being used by Mrs. Hearn and Marquito. Peggy nodded. I don't see how the photograph connects her with the case, she said at length, but the same perfume certainly is strange. All the same the scent may be fashionable. Haiku. Haiku. I have never heard of it. It is a Japanese perfume and Marquito got it from some foreign admirer. It is strange, as you say. Have you seen Mrs. Hearn? I saw her at the inquest. She gave evidence, but I had no conversation with her myself. Why don't you look her up? You mentioned you had her address. I haven't it now, said Jennings gloomily. I called at the Hampstead House and learned that Mrs. Hearn had received such a shock from the death of her friend, Miss Loach, that she has gone abroad and would not return for an indefinite time. So I can do nothing in that quarter just now. It is for this reason that I have come here to ask about Marquito. From Papa Lobo, said Peggy wrinkling her pretty brows, what can he know of this woman? She was a dancer until she had an accident. Lobo may have had her through his hands. Marquito. Marquito, murmured Peggy, and shook her head. No. No, I do not remember her. How old is she? About thirty, I think. A fine, handsome woman like a tropical flower for coloring. Spanish. The name is Spanish. I think that is all that Spanish about her. She talks English without the least accent. Hush, here is Papa. It was indeed the little professor who rushed into the room and threw himself, blowing and panting, on the dingy sofa.  He wore a blonde wig which did not match his yellow complexion, and was neatly dressed in black, with an old-fashioned swallow-tail coat of blue. He carried a small fiddle and spoke voluably without regarding the presence of miles. Oh, these cautions of English, my dear, he exclaimed to Peggy, so stiff, so wood-stiff in the limbs. I wish them can do nuzzing. No, not a little bit. They would make the angels swear. Ah, mandu, que demage I have to teach them. I must see about these accounts, said Peggy, picking up a sheaf of papers and running out. Stay to Digenere, miles. Eh, mon ami, cried Papa, rising. My excuses, but the pigs make me be much enraged. They are the stiff dolls on the Strasbourg clock.  The professor had picked up a number of English slang words which he interlarded into his conversations. He meant to be kind, and indeed liked Miles greatly. In proof of his recovered temper he offered the young man a pinch of snuff. Jennings hated snuff, but to keep Papa LeBeau in good temper he accepted the offer, and sneezed violently. Professor, he said, when somewhat better, I have come to ask you about a lady. A friend of mine has fallen in love with her, and he thought you might know of her. Eh, what, Moshe, I understand nuzzing. The Lady Cruel, nom? Marquito Grados. Espanol, murmured LeBeau, shaking his wig. None, I do not know his name. Dancers of Spain, ah, yes, I have had many. They are not Steve like the Conscien Inglés. Describe ze looks, mon ami. Jennings did so to the best of his ability, but the old man still appeared undecided. But she has been ill for three years, added Jennings. She fell and hurt her back, and eh, what, Celestine cried LeBeau excitedly. She did fall and hurt herself. Ah, yes, most dreadful. Conceived to yourself, my friend, she slipped on orange peels in ze streets and wax she comes down. Three year back, yes, three year, Celestine demand, mon feel. Jennings wondered, but she said she is Spanish. LeBeau flipped a pinch of snuff in the air. Ah, bah, she is no Spain. So she is French, murmured Jennings to himself. Ah, non, by no means cried the Frenchman unexpectedly. She is no French. She is Inglés. Yeah, I remember, a very fine big demoiselle. She wished to come out to the opera, but she too large, much too large. English, yes, la juive. A juice, cried Jennings in his turn. I swear to you, mon amie, English, yes, may we. For ten months she danced here, three years gone, zenze orange peels and poof. I know see her no mores, but never danced no too large, un grande demoiselle. Do you know where she came from? No, I know nuzzing what I tell you. Did you like her? LeBeau shrugged his shoulders. I am too old, mon amie. Lefem, like me not. I have had me affairs, ah, yes, conceive. And he rattled out an adventure of his youth, which was more amusing than normal. But Jennings paid very little attention to him. He was thinking that Marquito, Celestine, was a more mysterious woman than he had thought her. While Jennings was wondering what use he could make of the information he had received, LeBeau suddenly flushed crimson. A new thought had occurred to him. Do you know this one, this Celestine Durand? Tell her I wish money. Did she not pay you? LeBeau seized Jennings' arm and shook it violently. Yes, three pound, quite right. Oh, certainly, but Zefort piece of gold, a louis non ze ingles sovereign. The English sovereign, yes. It was bad money, ver bad. Have you got it, asked Jennings, feeling that he was on the brink of a discovery. Non, I pitch him far off in rages.  May one know, not that. Bad, I tell you, if your friend love have nuzzing with her. She gives the bad money, one piece. He held up a lean finger and then, aha, ze bel for ze tables, alans, mushrooms. We dine, we eat. And he dashed out of the room as rapid as he had entered it. 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 LeBeau, when he had made such a discovery. The case was beginning to take shape. Can Marik Hito 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 can 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 Marik Hito. For this purpose he arrayed himself an accurate evening dress. Senora Grados 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. Marik Hito for obvious reasons had no desire to come in 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 the locality was fashionable. Her servants were all neat and demure. Marik Hito 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 of money on the chances of backerette. 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's staff wished to see anyone of a shady reputation, the person could be found at Marik Hito's. Certainly only the aristocracy of crime came here, and never a woman. Marik Hito did not appear to love her own sex. She received only gentleman, and as she was an invalid, and attended constantly by a duena 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 Marik Hito'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 Malo in this semi-respectable establishment and looked around when he entered the room. It was a large apartment decorated in the Adam's style and furnished as a luxurious drawing-room. At the side near the window there was a long table covered with a green bays. 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 backerette. Marik Hito 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. 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 golden 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 molded and of a dazzling whiteness.  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 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 sick bed treated her with respect. Marquito, 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 lureline drawing men to destruction. Fortunes had been won and lost in that quiet room. When Jennings entered Marquito was opening a fresh pack of cards, while the players counted their losses or winnings, and filled with the red chips used in the game. On seeing the newcomer, Senor Grados 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 duena, she served for both, crossed to Jennings as he advanced toward the buffet, on which stood glasses and decanters of wine. Madame wishes to know why you have not brought Mr. Malo. Tell Madame that he will be here soon. I have to meet him in this place, said the detective to the duena, and watch the effect the message had on Marquito.  On the contrary, she gave all her attention to the game which was now in progress, but Jennings guessed that her thoughts were with Malo, and occasionally he caught her looking for his appearance at the door. While 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 Marquito'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 Caronby. I did not expect to see you here, said the detective. I come in place of my nephew. He is unwell, said Caronby. Present me to Signora Grados if you please, Mr. Jennings. End of CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XII. CHAPTER XII. Will you play Lord Caronby, asked Marquito, when the introduction had been accomplished? Pardon me, not at present, in a little time, said the old nobleman, with a polite bow and his eyes on the beautiful face. As you like, she answered carelessly, every one who comes here does just as he pleases. Is your nephew coming? I fear not. He is unwell. Marquito started. Unwell? Nothing serious, I hope. A slight cold. Ah, every one has colds just now. Well, Lord Caronby, I hope to have a conversation with you later, when someone else takes the bank. Caronby bowed and moved away slowly, leaning on his cane. Jennings, who was beside him, threw a glance over his shoulder at Signora Grados.  Catching Jennings' inquisitive look, she frowned and again addressed herself wholly to the game. Wondering why Lord Caronby should produce such an effect, Jennings rejoined him at the end of the room, where they sat on a sofa and smoked. Have you been here before? asked the detective. No, answered the other, lighting a cigar. And it is improbable that I shall come again. My reason for coming, he broke off. I can tell you that later. It is sufficient to say that it has to do with your conduct of this case. Hush! whispered Jennings quickly. My profession is not known here. I fear it will be if these two have tongues in their heads. The detective glanced towards the door and saw Hale enter with Clancy at his heels. Jennings had not seen them since the inquest on the body of Miss Loach, when they had given their evidence with great grief and frankness. He was annoyed at meeting them here, for although he had seen them in Marquito's salon before, yet at that time they had not known his profession. But since the inquest the knowledge was common property, and doubtless they would tell Senor Grados if they had not done so already. Jennings' chances of learning what he wished would therefore be slight, as everyone is not willing to speak freely before an officer of the law. It can't be helped, said Jennings with the shrug, and, in any case, Marquito is too anxious to stand well with the police to make any trouble about my coming here. Karenby did not reply but looked steadily at the two men, who were walking slowly up the room. Hale was slender, tall, and dark, in color, with a nose like the beak of an eagle. He was perfectly dressed and had even an elegant appearance. His age might have been forty, but in the artificial light he looked even younger. Clancy on the other hand wore his clothes with the air of a man unaccustomed to evening dress. He was light in color with weak blue eyes and a foolish expression about his slack mouth. Jennings wondered why a man like Hale should connect himself with such a creature. The men nodded to Senor Grados, who took little notice of them, and then repaired to the buffet. Owing to the position of the detective in Karenby the new arrivals did not see them, nor for the present was the detective anxious to attract their attention. Indeed he would have stolen away unperceived, but that he wished to question Hale as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Hearn. "'It is a long time since I have seen you,' said Karenby, removing his eyes from the newcomers, and addressing the detective. You were not an... er... an official when we last met. "'It is three years ago,' said Jennings. No. I had money then, but circumstances over which I had no control reduced me to the necessity of earning my living. As all professions were crowded I thought I would turn my talents of observation and deduction to this business. Do you find it lucrative?' Jennings smiled and shrugged his shoulders again. "'I do very well,' he said, but I have not yet made a fortune. "'Ah! And Cuthbert told me you wished to marry.' "'I do, but when my fortune will allow me to marry, I don't know.' Karenby, without raising his voice or looking at his companion, supplied the information. I can tell you that,' said he, when you learn who killed Miss Loach.  A large sum,' he murmured. "'She was very dear to me at one time,' said Karenby with emotion. I would have married her but for the machinations of her sister. Mrs. Octagon?' "'Yes. She wanted to become my wife. The story is a long one.' "'Cuthbert told it to me.' "'Quite right,' said Karenby nodding. I asked him to. "'It seems to me that in my romance may be found the motive for the death of Selena Loach.' "'The detective thought over the story. I don't quite see.' "'Nor do I. All the same, Karenby waved his hand and abruptly changed the subject. Do you know why I came here tonight?' "'No, I did not know you ever came to such places.' "'Nor do I. My life is a quiet one now. I came to see this woman you call Marquito.' "'What do you call her?' asked Jennings alertly. "'Ah, that I can't tell you, but she is no Spaniard. Is she a Jewess by chance?' "'Karenby turned to look directly at his companion. You ought to be able to tell that from her face,' he said. "'Can you not see the seal of Jacob impressed there? That strange look which stamps a Hebrew?' "'No,' confessed Jennings. That is, I can see it now. But I came here for many a long day before I did guess she was a Jewess. And then it was only because I learned the truth.' "'How did you learn it?' "'The detective-related details of his visit to Monsieur Labot, and the discovery that Marquito Grados was one and the same as Celestine Durand. Karenby listened attentively. "'Yes, that is all right,' he said. But her name is Bathsheba Saul.' "'What?' said Jennings, so loud that several people turned to look. "'Hush,' said Karenby, sinking his voice. You attract notice.' "'Yes, I made Cuthbert describe the appearance of this woman. His description vaguely suggested Amelia Saul. I came here to night to satisfy myself. And I have no doubt but what she is the niece of Amelia, the daughter of Amelia's brother.' "'Who was connected with the coining gang?' "'Ah, you heard of that, did you?' "'Exactly. Her father is dead, I believe. But there sits his daughter.' "'You see in her the image of Amelia as I loved her twenty years ago.' "'Loved her?' echoed Jennings significantly. "'You are right,' responded Karenby with a quick look. "'I see that Cuthbert has told you all. I never did love Amelia, but she hypnotized me in some way. She was one of those women who could make a man do what pleased her.' "'And this Bathsheba, Marquito, Celestine, can do the same. It is a pity that she isn't invalid, but, on the whole, as she looks rather wicked, mankind is to be congratulated. Were she able to move about like an ordinary woman, she would set the world on fire after the fashion of Cleopatra. You need not mention this.' "'I know how to hold my tongue,' said Jennings, rather offended by the imputation that he was a chatterer. "'Can I come and see you to talk over this matter?' "'By all means. I am at the Avon Hotel.' "'Oh, and by the way, will you allow me to go over to that house of yours at Rexton?  "'Ah, you think you may discover something in that house likely to lead you to the discovery of the assassin?' "'Yes, I do. I can't explain my reasons now. The explanation would take too long. However, I cease in your aggradoses beckoning to you. I will speak to Hale and Clancy. Would you mind telling me what she says to you?' "'A difficult question to answer,' said Karen B. Rising. "'As a gentleman, I am not in the habit of repeating conversations, especially with women. Besides, she can have no connection with this case.' "'On the face of it, no,' replied Jennings doubtfully. "'But there is a link.' "'Ah, you mean that she is Amelia's niece?' "'Not exactly that,' answered Jennings, thinking of the photograph. "'I will tell you what I mean when we next meet.' "'At this moment, in response to the imperative beckoning of Marikito's fan, Karen B. was compelled to go to her. The couch had been wheeled away from the green table, and a gentleman had taken charge of the bank. Marikito, with her couch, retreated to a quiet corner of the room, and had a small table placed beside her. Here were served champagne and cakes, while Lord Karen B., after bowing in his old-fashioned way, took a seat near the beautiful woman.  "'I have heard of you from Mr. Mallow,' she said, flushing. "'My nephew, he comes here at times.  The wreck of a beauty,' said she bitterly. Three years ago, indeed. But I met with an accident.' "'So I heard, a piece of orange peel. The woman started. Who told you that?' "'I heard it indirectly from a professor of dancing. You were a dancer, I believe.' "'Scarsely that,' said Senora Grados, nervously playing with her fan. I was learning. It was Libo who told you.' "'Indirectly,' responded Karen B. "'I should like to know,' said Marikito deliberately, who has taken the trouble to tell you this. My life, the life of a shattered invalid, can scarcely interest anyone. "'I really forget to whom I am indebted for the information,' said Lord Karen B. "'And a lady of your beauty must always interest men while they have eyes to see. "'I have seen ladies like you in Andalusia, but no one so lovely. Let me see. Was it in Andalusia or Jerusalem,' used Lord Karen B. "'I am a Spanish Jewess,' said Marikito, quickly and uneasily. I have only been in London five years.' "'And met with an accident a year or two after you arrived, murmured Karen B. How very sad.' Marikito did not know what to make of the ironical old gentleman. It seemed to her that he was hostile, but she could take no offense at what he said. Moreover, as he was Mallow's uncle she did not wish to crow with him. With a graceful gesture she indicated a glass of champagne. Will you not drink to our better acquaintance?' "'Certainly,' said Karen B. without emotion, and sipped a few drops of the golden-colored wine. I hope to see much of you.' "'I reciprocate that hope,' said Marikito radiantly, and I'll tell you a secret. I have been consulting specialists, and I find that in a few months I shall be able to walk as well as ever I did.' "'Excellent news,' said Karen B. I hope you will.' "'And moreover,' added Marikito, looking at him from behind her fan, I shall then give up this place. I have plenty of money, and—' "'You will go back to Spain?' "'That depends. Should I leave my heart here in England?' "'How I envy the man you leave it with?' Marikito looked down moodily. He doesn't care for my heart. "'What a stone he must be. Now I, upon my word, I feel inclined to marry and cut my nephew out of the title.' "'Your nephew?' stammered Marikito with a flash of her big eyes. "'You know him well,' he tells me, chatted Karen B. garrulously. "'A handsome fellow is Cuthbert. I am sure the lady he is engaged to thinks as much, and very rightly too.' "'Miss Saxon,' cried Marikito, breaking her fan and looking furious. "'Ah,' said Karen B. Cooley, you know her?' "'I know of her,' said Marikito bitterly. Her brother Basil comes in here sometimes, and said his sister was engaged to. "'But they will never marry, never,' she said vehemently.  Mallow is set on the marriage. He loves Miss Saxon with all his heart.' Marikito uttered a low cry of rage but managed to control herself with an effort. "'Do you?' she asked. Karen B. shrugged his thin shoulders. "'I'm neutral. So long as Cuthbert marries the woman he loves, I do not mind.' "'And what about the woman who loves him?' "'Miss Saxon? Oh, I'm sure.' "'I don't mean Miss Saxon, and he will never marry her. Never.' "'You know that Mr. Mallow is poor. Miss Saxon has no money.' "'Pardon me. I hear the aunt, Miss Loach, who was unfortunately murdered at Rexton, has left her six thousand a year.' Signora Grados turned quite pale and clenched her hands, but she managed to control herself again with a powerful effort, and masked the rage she felt under a bland, false smile. "'Oh, that makes a difference,' she said calmly. "'I hope they will be happy if they marry,' she added significantly.' "'Oh, that is quite settled,' said Karen B. "'There's many a slip between the cup and the lip,' said Marikito viciously. "'Yonder is Mr. Saxon. Tell him to come to me.' Karen B. bowed and crossed the room to where Basil was talking with a frowning face to hail. "'Don't bother me,' he was saying. It will be all right now that the will has been read.' "'For your own sake I hope it will be all right,' replied Hale, and Karen B. caught the words as he came up. After giving his message he sauntered round, watching the play, and seemingly listened to no one, but all the time he kept his ears open to hear what Hale and Clancy were talking about. The two men were in a corner of the room, and Clancy was expostulating, angrily, with Hale. They held their peace when Karen B. drifted near them. He saw that they were on their guard. Looking round he aspired Jennings playing at a side-table and crossed to him. "'Permit me to take your place,' said Karen B., and added in a low tone, watch Hale and Clancy. Jennings seized the idea at once and surrendered the chair to the old nobleman. Then he lighted a cigarette and by degrees strolled across the room to where the two were again talking vigorously.  The detective came forward with a smile, inwardly vexed that he had not been able to hear more. As he advanced he saw Clancy touch Hale on the arm. "'How are you?' said Jennings, taking the initiative. We met at the inquest, I believe.' "'Yes,' said Hale, polite and smiling. "'I remember, Mr. Jennings. I had seen you here before, but I never knew your calling.' "'I don't tell it to everyone,' said Jennings. "'How do you do, Mr. Clancy? I hope you are well and amusing place this.' "'I need amusement,' said Clancy, again assuming his silly smile, since the death of my dear friend. By the way, have you found out who killed her, Mr. Jennings?' "'No, I fear the assassin will never be discovered. Here the two men exchanged a glance. I am engaged on other cases. There was only one point I wish to learn in connection with Miss Loach's death. What is that?' asked Hale calmly. "'Was Mrs. Hearn in Miss Loach's bedroom on that night?' "'I forget,' said Clancy, before Hale could speak. "'That's a pity,' resumed Jennings. "'You see, from the fact of the bell having been sounded, it struck me that the assassin may have been concealed in the bedroom. Now if Mrs. Hearn was in that room she might have noticed something.' "'I don't think she did,' said Hale hastily. Mrs. Hearn and I left early, owing to Clancy here having offended her. Besides, Mrs. Hearn told all she knew at the inquest. "'I'll save that point.' "'The question was not asked,' said Clancy. "'No. I should like to ask Mrs. Hearn now, but it seems she has gone away from Hamstead.' "'I don't care if she has,' grumbled Clancy. I hated Mrs. Hearn. She was always quarreling. Did you call to see her?' "'Yes, but I could not learn where she was. Now, as you are her lawyer, Mr. Hale, you may know.' "'She is at Brighton,' replied Hale readily, at the Metropolitan Hotel, but she returns to Hamstead in a week. Jennings was secretly astonished at his question being thus answered, as he was inclined to suspect the men. However, he took a note of the address and said he would attend to the matter. "'But to tell you the truth, it is useless,' he said. The assassin will never be discovered. Moreover, there is no reward, and I should only work for no wages.' "'You stay at Rose Cottage now, I believe, Mr. Clancy?' "'I do. Mrs. Pill has taken the place. Who told you?' "'I heard it from Susan Grant. She was a witness, if you remember.' "'And has Mrs. Pill married Barnes yet?' "'I can't say,' said Clancy, looking keenly at the detective. I am not yet a border. I move in after a fortnight.' "'I expect the marriage will take place before then.' "'Susan Grant told you that also?' "'She did, but I don't expect I'll see her again. Well, gentlemen, I must go away. I hope you will be lucky.' Jennings moved away and saw from the eager manner in which the two men began to converse, that he was the subject of the conversation. He looked round for Karenby, but could not see him. When he was out of the house, however, and on the pavement lighting a cigarette, he felt a touch on his arm and found Karenby waiting for him. The old gentleman pointed with his cane to a brome. "'Get in,' he said. "'I have been waiting to see you. There is much to talk about.' "'Marakito?' asked Jennings eagerly. "'She has something to do with the matter. Love for Cuthbert has made her involve herself. How far or in what way I do not know. And what of Clancy and Hale?' "'Oh, I've put them off the scent. They think I have given up the case. But they and Marakito are connected with the matter somehow. I can't for the life of me see in what way, though.' "'There is another woman connected with the matter. Mrs. Octagon. What do you mean?' asked Jennings quickly. "'I saw her enter Marakito's house a few moments before you came down.' End of Chapter 12. Chapter 13 of the secret passage. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read for you today by Don Larson in Minnesota. The Secret Passage by Fergus Hume Chapter 13, Juliette at Bay. Karen B.'s reply took away Jennings' breath. The case was one of surprises. But he was not quite prepared for such an announcement. He was in the brome and driving toward the Avon Hotel, with the old nobleman before he found his tongue. "'What can Mrs. Octagon have to do with Marakito?' he asked, amazed. "'Ah, that is the question,' replied Karen B., affording no clue. I did not even know she was acquainted with her. Perhaps she gambles. Even if she did, Marakito's salon would hardly be the place she would choose for her amusement. Moreover, Marakito does not receive ladies. She has no love for her own sex.' "'What woman has?' murmured Karen B. ironically. Then he added after a pause. You know that Mrs. Octagon was present when Amelia fell from the plank in the rexton house?' Yes, she gave evidence at the inquest I understand. But Selena did not, if Cuthbert informed me right. Selena was ill in bed. She could not come. Afterwards she went abroad. "'I have often wondered,' added Karen B., why Selena didn't seek me out when the death broke my engagement to Amelia. She loved me, and her father being dead there would have been no bar to our marriage. As it was she threw over her American and dedicated herself to a hermit's life at rexton. You never saw her again?' Never. I started to travel and came to London only at rare intervals. I did write to Selena, asking her to see me, but she always refused. So I became philosophic and took to salibacy also.' "'Very strange,' murmured Jennings, his thoughts elsewhere. But this does not explain Mrs. Octagon's visit to the house.' "'I'm not so sure of that if you mean Marikito's house. Mrs. Octagon may know, as I do, that Marikito is the niece of Amelia. Are you sure of that?' asked the detective eagerly. "'As sure as I am that she is no Spaniard nor even a Spanish US as she claims to be. She doesn't even know the language. Her name, to fit a woman, should terminate in a feminine manner. She should be called Marikita, not Marikito. That little grammatical error doubtless escaped her notice. But, as I was saying, Marikito, we will still call her, may have sent for Mrs. Octagon.' "'Mrs. Octagon, so far as I have seen, is not the woman to obey such a call,' said Jennings grimly. Marikito may have compelled her to come. For what reason?' "'Well, you see, Amelia was said by Isabella Loach, Mrs. Octagon that is, to have fallen from the plank, but Mrs. Octagon may have pushed her off.' May have murdered her, in fact. Quite so. Isabella loved me and was, and is, a very violent woman. It may be that she pushed Amelia off the plank and Marikito, through her dead father, may have learned the truth.' This would give her a hold over Mrs. Octagon. But, Selena may have killed Amelia. That would explain her hermit life inexplicable in any other way. "'No,' said Karen B. in a shaking voice. I am sure the woman I loved would never have behaved in that way. Isabella killed Amelia, if it was a murder, and then threatened to denounce Selena unless she gave up the idea of marrying me. And that,' added Karen B., as though struck by a new idea, may be the cause why Selena never answered my letter, and always refused to see or marry me. She may have been, no, I am sure she was, under the thumb of Isabella. Now that Selena is dead, Isabella is under the thumb of Marikito. "'This is all theory,' said Jennings impatiently. "'We can only theorize in our present state of uncertainty,' was the reply of the nobleman. But my explanation is a reasonable one. I do not deny that, but why should Marikito send for Mrs. Octagon? Why?' echoed Karen B. in surprise, in order to stop the marriage with Cuthbert. Marikito loves Cuthbert and hates Juliet. I daresay this is the solution of Mrs. Octagon's strange behavior since the death. It is Marikito who is stopping the marriage by threatening to denounce Mrs. Octagon for the murder of her aunt. Juliet knows this, and hence her reticence. It might be so, murmured Jennings, more and more perplexed. But Miss Sexton won't be reticent with me. I'll see her to-morrow. What means will you use to make her speak? I'll tell her that Cuthbert may be arrested for the crime. You know he was about the place on the night of the murder. Yes, he went down to look after a possible ghost. But I hope you will not bring Cuthbert into the matter unless it is absolutely necessary. I don't want a scandal. Rest easy, Lord Karen B. I have the complete control of this affair, and I'll only use Cuthbert's presence at Rexton to make Miss Saxon speak out. But then she may not be keeping silence for Cuthbert's sake, as she can't possibly know he was at Rexton on that night. My own opinion is that she's shielding her brother. Do you suspect him? asked Karen B. quickly. He may not be guilty of the crime, but he sure knows something about it that I am sure. Here Jennings related how Clancy had said Basil would speak out if pressed too hard. Now Basil for some reason is in difficulties with Hale, who is a scoundrel. But Basil knows something which Hale and Clancy wish to be kept silent. Hale has been using threats to Basil, and the young man has turned restive. Clancy, who is by no means such a fool as he looks, warned Hale to-night. Therefore I take it that Basil has some information about the murder. Miss Saxon knows he has, and she's shielding him. But Clancy Hale and Mrs. Hearn were all out of the house when the woman was stabbed, said Karen B. They cannot have had anything to do with it. Quite so on the face of it, but that bell, Jennings broke off, I don't think those three are so innocent as it appears. However, Mrs. Hearn is coming back to Hampstead next week. I'll see her and put questions. Which she will not answer, said Karen B. Dryley. Besides, you should have put them to her at the inquest. The case had not developed so far. I had not so much information as I have now, argued Jennings. Did you examine Mrs. Hearn at the inquest? No, she gave her evidence, Jennings hesitated. She also wore a veil when she spoke, and refused to raise it on account of weak eyes. By the way, do you notice that Marrakeito uses a strong scent? Yes, Clancy and Hale also use it. Ha! said Jennings surprised. I never knew that.  Well, Mrs. Hearn uses that scent also. It is a rare scent. Then Jennings told what Susan Grant had said. Now, I think there is some significance in that scent which is connected with the association of Clancy, Hale, Marrakeito, and Mrs. Hearn. But Mrs. Hearn doesn't know Marrakeito. I am not so sure of that. Susan Grant thinks she may be Marrakeito's mother. She is so like her in an elderly way. Did you know this Mrs. Saul? No, I knew the brother who came to speak to me after the death of his sister, and who afterwards was put in jail for coining. His wife I never met. I never even heard of her. But Marrakeito takes after her father in looks, and he was like Amelia. It is a difficult matter to unravel, said Jennings. I think Mrs. Hearn refused to raise her veil at the inquest, so that the likeness between her and Marrakeito might not be observed. I was there, and if Mrs. Hearn is what I say, she would have been put on the guard by Marrakeito. Though to be sure added Jennings in a vexed tone, Marrakeito did not know then, and perhaps does not know now, that I am a detective. Ha! Clancy and Hale will have enlightened her, said Karenby, as the vehicle stopped. Will you not come in? Not tonight. I will do myself the honour of calling on you later, when I have more to say. At present I am going to sort out what evidence I have. Tomorrow I'll call on Miss Saxon. Call on Mrs. Octagon, were Karenby's parting words. Believe me, she knows the truth, but I'll tell you one thing. Marrakeito did not kill Miss Loach, for the death of Selena has given Juliet enough money to marry Cuthbert, independent of Mrs. Octagon's wishes, and Marrakeito would never have brought that about. Yet all the same Miss Saxon will not marry. Karenby made a gesture to show that the matter was beyond his comprehension, and ascended the steps of the hotel. Jennings, deep in thought, walked away wondering how he was to disentangle this skein which fate had placed in his hands to unravel. That night the detective surveyed the situation. So far as he could see he seemed no further advanced than he had been at the inquest. Certainly he had accumulated a mass of evidence, but it threw no light on the case. From Karenby's romance it seemed that the dead woman had been connected with the Sol family. That seemed to link her with Marrakeito, who appeared to be the sole surviving member. In turn Marrakeito was connected in some underhand way with Mrs. Octagon, seeing that the elder woman came by stealth to the Soho House. Mrs. Octagon was connected with the late Amelia Sol by a crime, if what Karenby surmised was correct, and her daughter was forbidden to marry Malo, who was the nephew of the man who had been the lover of both Miss Loach and Amelia Sol. Hale and Clancy were playing some game with Basil Saxon, who was the son of Mrs. Octagon, and he was associated with Marrakeito. Thus it would seem that all these people were connected in various ways with the dead woman. But the questions were, had one of them struck the fatal blow, and if so, who had been daring enough to do so? Again he murmured, who touched that bell? Not the assassin who would scarcely have been full enough to call anyone to examine his work before he had had time to escape. Certainly it may have been a woman. Yes, I believe a man killed Miss Loach for some reason I have yet to learn, and a woman out of jealousy, wishing to get him into the grip of a law, touched the bell so that the witness might appear before the assassin could escape. But who struck that blow? This was a difficult question. It could not have been Basil Saxon, for he was at the Marlowe Theatre on that night with his sister. Cuthbert had no motive, and Jennings quite believed his explanation as to his exploration of the park between the hours of ten and eleven. Hale, Clancy and Mrs. Hearn, were all out of the house before the blow had been struck, and, moreover, there was no reason why they should murder a harmless old lady. Marikito, confined to her couch, could not possibly have had anything to do with the crime. Mrs. Octagon did hate her sister, but she certainly would not risk killing her. In fact, Jennings examining into the motives and movements of those mentioned could find no clue to the right person. He began to believe that the crime had been committed by someone who had not yet appeared, someone whose motive might be found in the past of the dead woman, say a member of the Saul family. But Marikito was the sole surviving member, and on the face of it was innocent. As yet, Jennings did not know whether Mrs. Hearn was her mother in spite of the resemblance which Susan claimed to have seen. Also, Karen B. said that Marikito resembled her father, and the features of the Saul family were so strongly marked that it was impossible the Elder Saul could have married a woman resembling him. Though to be sure he might have married a relative, said Jennings, and went to bed more perplexed than ever. Next day, before calling at the shrine of the Muses, he went to Scotland Yard, and there made inquiries about the rumor of false coins being in circulation. These appeared to be numerous and were admirably made. Also from France and Russia and Italy came reports that false money was being scattered about. The chief of the detective staff possessed these coins of all sorts, and Jennings was forced to own that they were admirable imitations. He went away wondering if this crime could be connected in any way with the circulation of false money. Marikito is a member of the Saul family, who appear to have been expert coiners, said Jennings on his way to Kensington, and, according to LeBeau, she gave him a false sovereign. I wonder if she keeps up the business and if Clancy and Hale, together with Mrs. Hearn, this suppositious mother, have to do with the matter. That unfinished house would make an admirable factory, and the presence of the ghosts would be accounted for if a gang of coiners was discovered there. But there is a fifteen feet wall around the house and the park is a regular jungle. Cuthbert examined the place by day and night and could see nothing suspicious. I wonder if Miss Loach, living near the place, learned that a gang was there. If so, it is quite conceivable that she might have been murdered by one of them. But how the deuce did anyone enter the house? The door certainly opened at half-past ten o'clock, either to let someone in or someone out. But the bell did not sound for a half hour after that. Can there be any outlet to that house? And is it connected with the unfinished mansion of Lord Caronby used as a factory? This was all theory, but Jennings could deduce no other explanation from the evidence he had collected. He determined to search the unfinished house, since Caronby had given him permission, and also to make an inspection of Rose Cottage. Though how he was to enter on a plausible excuse he did not know. But fate gave him a chance, which he was far from expecting. On arriving at the shrine of the Muses he was informed that Miss Saxon had gone to Rexton. This was natural enough since she owned the Cottage, but Jennings was inclined to suspect Juliet from her refusal to marry Cuthbert, or to explain her reason, and saw something suspicious in all she did. He therefore took the underground railway at once to Rexton, and alighted at the station, went to Crooked Lane through the bypass which ran through the small wood of the pines. On looking at the Cottage he saw that the windows were open, that carpets were spread on the lawn, and that the door was ajar. It seemed that Mrs. Pill was indulging in the spring cleaning alluded to by Susan Grant.  She was dusty and untidy and cross. Nor did her temper grow better when she saw the detective, whom she recognized as having been present at the inquest. Why ever have you come here, sir? she asked. I'm sure there ain't no more corpses for you to discover. I wish to see Miss Saxon, I was told she was here. Well, she is, admitted Mrs. Pill, placing her red arms a Kimbo. Not as I feel bound to tell it, me not being in the witness box. She have come to see me about my rent and you, sir. I wish to speak to Miss Saxon, said Jennings patiently. Mrs. Pill rubbed her nose and grumbled. She's up in the attics, said she, looking at some dresses left by that poor Miss Loach and there ain't a room in the house fit to let you sit down in by reason of no chairs being about.  No, I don't think the assassin will ever be discovered. Ah, well, we're all grass, wailed Mrs. Pill, and if you wish to see Miss Saxon, see her you will. Come this way to the lower room and I'll go up to the attics. Let me go too and it will save Miss Saxon coming down, said Jennings, wishing to take Juliet unawares. Ah, now you speak sense, legs is legs when stairs are about. Whatever you may say, said Mrs. Pill, leading the way. And you'll excuse me, Mr. Policeman, if I don't stop, me having a lot of work to do, and Susan's gone, and Geraldine with her, not to speak of my husband, that is to be, he having gone to see Mrs. Hearn, drat her. Why has he gone to see Mrs. Hearn, asked Jennings quickly. Ask me another, said the cook, garelessly. He's a secret one, is that, Thomas Barnes, whatever you may say. He comes, and he goes, and he makes money by his doons, whatever they may be. For not a word do I hear of his pranks. I have a good mind to remain Pill till the end of my days, seeens as he keeps secrets. Jennings said no more, but secretly wondered why Thomas had gone to visit Mrs. Hearn. He determined to call on that lady at once, and see if he could learn what message Thomas had taken to her, and from whom. But he had not much time for thought, as Mrs. Pill opened a door to the right, of a narrow passage, and pushed him in. And now I'll be going back to my Dustin, said the cook, hurrying away. Jennings found himself face to face with Juliet.  As soon as she saw him she came down, with rather a white face. The room was filled with trunks and large deal boxes, some were open, revealing clothes. Dust lay thick on others, apparently locked, and untouched for many years. The light filtered into the dusty attic through a dirty window, and the floor was strewn with straw and other rubbish. Miss Saxon did not know the detective, and her face resumed its normal color and expression. Who are you, and what do you want? she asked, casting a nervous glance at the cornice. Jennings removed his hat. I beg your pardon, he said politely. Mrs. Pill showed me up here, when I asked to see you. She had no right, said Juliet, looking at her dress, which was rather dusty.  She appeared anxious to get him out of the room, and walked before him out of the door. As she passed through Jennings contrived to shut it, as though her dress had caught the lower part. Then he lightly turned the key. He could hear Juliet fumbling at the lock. What is the matter, she called through. The lock has got hampered in some way, said Jennings rattling the key. One moment, I'll look at it carefully. As he said this, he made one bound to the chair, upon which she had been standing, and reached his hand to the cornice at which she had looked. Passing his hand rapidly along it, he came into contact with an object long and sharp. He drew it down. It was a brand new knife of the sort called Bowie. Jennings started on seeing this object, but having no time to think, for he did not wish to rouse her suspicions, he slipped the knife into his vest and ran again to the door. After a lot of ostentatious fumbling, he managed to turn the key again and open the door. Juliet was flushed and looking at him angrily, but she cast no second look at the cornice, which showed Jennings that she did not suspect his ruse.  The lock seemed to be out of order. I never knew it was, said Juliet, examining it. It always locked easy enough before. Hum! thought Jennings. So you have been here before, and you have kept the door locked on account of the knife, probably. But he looked smilingly at the girl all the same. I am sorry, he said, when she desisted from her examination. It's my fault, said Juliet, unsuspiciously, and closed the door. She led the way along the passage and down the stairs. Who are you, she asked, turning round halfway down? I'm a friend of Malo's, said the detective. I have never met you. Yet I have been to your house, Miss Saxon. Perhaps my name, Miles Jennings, may— The girl started with a cry.  She gasped. End of Chapter 13. The young girl leaned against the wall, white and with closed eyes. Alarmed by her appearance, Jennings would have assisted her, but she waved him off and staggered down the stairs.  I'm glad to see you, she said. Mr. Malo has often spoken of you to me. You are his friend, I know. His best friend, in spite of the difference in our position. Oh, Juliet waved that objection aside. I know you are a gentleman, and took up this work merely as a hobby. I fear not, smiled Jennings, to make money. Not in a very pleasant way. However, as you are Mr. Malo's friend, I am glad you have this case in hand. She fixed her eyes on the detective. Have you discovered anything, she asked anxiously. Nothing much, replied Jennings, who rapidly decided to say nothing about his discovery of the knife. I fear the truth will never be found out, Miss Saxon. I suppose you have no idea. I, she said, coloring, what put such a thing into your head?  Did you come to ask me about that, amongst other things, interrupted Jennings, seeing Mrs. Pill's bulky figure at the door? Can we not talk in some quieter place? Come downstairs, said Juliet, moving. But the rooms are unfurnished as Mrs. Pill is cleaning them. The house is quiet enough. So I see, said the detective following his companion down to the basement. Only yourself and Mrs. Pill. And my mother, she answered, became here to see about some business connected with the letting of the cottage. My mother is lying down in the old part of the house. Do you wish to see her? No, I wish to see you. By this time they had entered the sinning room in which the crime had been committed. The carpets were up, the furniture had been removed, the walls were bare. Jennings could have had no better opportunity of seeking for any secret entrance, the existence of which he suspected by reason of the untimely sounding of the bell. But everything seemed to be in order. The floor was a vogue, and there was, strangely enough, no hearthstone. The French windows opened into the conservatory, now denuded of its flowers, and stepping into this, Jennings found that the glass roof was entirely closed, save for a space for ventilation. The assassin could not have entered or escaped in that way, and there was no exit from the room saved by the door. Would you like to see the bedroom, asked Juliet sarcastically? I see you are examining the place, though I should have thought you would have done so before. I did at the time, replied Jennings calmly, but the place was then full of furniture and the carpets were down. Let me see the bedroom by all means. Juliet led the way to the next room, which was also bare. There was one window, hermetically sealed and with iron shutters. This looked out to a kind of well, and light was reflected from above by means of a sheet of silver tin. No one could have got out by the window, and even then it would have been difficult to have climbed up the wall, which led to the surface of the ground. The floor and walls had no marks of entrances, and Jennings returned to the sitting room completely baffled. Then Juliet spoke again. I cannot help wondering what you expect to find, she observed. I thought there might be a secret entrance, said Jennings, looking at her keenly, but there seems to be none. Miss Saxon appeared genuinely astonished and looked round. I never heard of such a thing, she said puzzled, and what would a quiet old lady like my aunt need with a secret entrance? Well, you see, the assassin could not have sounded that bell and have escaped by the front door. Had he done so, he would have met Susan Grant, answering the call. Therefore he must have escaped in some other way. The windows of both rooms are out of the question. Yes, but I understood that the assassin escaped at half past ten. According to the evidence, it looks like that, but who then sounded the bell? Juliet shook her head. I can't say, she said with a sigh. The whole case is a mystery to me. You don't know who killed Miss Loach? Please do not look so indignant, Miss Saxon. I am only doing my duty. The girl forced a smile. I really do not know, nor can I think what mode of the assassin can have had. He must have had some reason, you know, Mr. Jennings. You say he was the assassin, then a man? I suppose so. At the inquest, the doctor said that no woman could have struck such a blow. But I am really ignorant of all, save what appeared in the papers. I am the worst person in the world to apply to for information, sir. Perhaps you are, so far as the crime is concerned. But there is one question I should like to ask you, an impertinent one. What is it, demanded the girl, visibly nervous? Why do you refuse to marry Malone? That is very important, said Juliet, controlling herself, so much so that I refuse to reply. As a gentleman, I take that answer, said Jennings mildly. But, as a detective, I ask again for your reason. I fail to see what my private affairs have to do with the law. Jennings smiled at this answer and thought of the knife which he had found. A less cautious man would have produced it at once and have insisted on an explanation. But Jennings wished to learn to whom the knife belonged before he ventured. He was sure that it was not the property of Juliet, who had no need for such a dangerous article. And he was equally sure that as she was shielding someone, she would acknowledge that she had bought the weapon. He was treading on eggshells, and it behooved him to be cautious. Very good, he said at length. We will pass that question for the present, though as Malone's friend I am sorry. Will you tell me to whom you gave the photograph of Malone which he presented to you? How do you know about that, asked Miss Saxon quickly, and why do you ask? Because I have seen the photograph. That is impossible, she answered coolly, unless you were in this house before the death of my aunt. Ah, then it was to Miss Loach you gave it, said Jennings, wondering how Marquito had become possessed of it. It was, though I do not recognize your right to ask such a question, Mr. Jennings. My late aunt was very devoted to Mr. Malone, and anxious that our marriage should take place. He gave me the photograph, with an inscription put in the detective. Certainly she rejoined, flushing. With an inscription intended for me alone. I was unwilling to part with that photograph, but my aunt begged me so eagerly for it that I could not refuse it. How did she see it in the first instance? I brought it to show her after Mr. Malone gave it to me. May I ask where you saw it? Jennings looked at her with a marked significance. I saw it in the house of a woman called Marquito. And how did it get there? I can't tell you, do you know this woman? I don't even know her name, who is she? Her real name is Senora Grados. And she claims to be a Spanish Jewess. She keeps a kind of gambling salon. To be plain with you, Ms. Saxon, I really did not see the photograph in her house, but a girl called Susan Grant. I know my late aunt's parlor maid. Well, the photograph was in her box. I found it when the servants insisted on their boxes being searched. She confessed that she had taken it from her last mistress, who was Senora Grados. As you gave it to Ms. Loach, I should be glad to know how it came into the possession of this woman. I really can't tell you. No more than I can say why Susan took it. What was her reason? Mr. Malone was a handsome man, began Jennings, when she stopped him with a gesture. Do you mean to say, no, I'll never believe it. I was not going to say anything against Malone's character, but this foolish girl cherished a foolish infatuation for Malone. She saw him at Senora Grados' house. Ah, said Juliet, turning pale. I remember now. Basil mentioned that Cuthbert gambled, but he did not say where. Malone gambled a little at Marquitos, as did your brother. The only difference is that Malone could afford to lose, and your brother could not. Are you sure you never heard the name of Marquito? Quite sure, said Juliet, meaning his gaze so calmly that he saw she was speaking the truth. Well, I understand how you got the photograph, but how did this woman get it? I never heard my aunt mention her, either as Marquito or as Senora Grados. Was your aunt open with you? Perfectly open. She had nothing in her life to conceal. I am not so sure of that, murmurna detective. Well, I cannot say how Marquito became possessed of the photograph. Juliet shrugged her shoulders. In that case, we may dismiss the matter, she said, wiping her dry lips. And I can't see what the photograph has to do with this crime. I can't see it myself, but one never knows. Do you accuse Mr. Malone? Supposing I did. I know Mr. Malone was near this place on the night of the murder, and about the hour. Juliet leaned against the wall and turned away her face. It is not true. What should bring him there? He had business connected with the unfinished house at the back, owned by Lauren Karenby. But I don't suppose anyone saw him. How do you know he was there then? asked Juliet, gray and agitated. He confessed to me that he had been there. But we can talk of that later. Juliet interposed. One moment, she cried. Do you accuse him? As yet I accuse no one. I must get more facts together. By the way, Miss Saxon, will you tell me where you were on that night? Certainly, she replied in a muffled voice at the Marlowe Theater with my brother Basil. Quite so. But I don't think the play was to your liking. What do you mean by that? Well, said Jennings, slowly and watching the changing color of her face. In your house, you do not favor melodrama. I wonder, you went to see this one at the Marlowe Theater. The writer is a friend of ours, said Juliet defiantly. In that case, you might have paid him the compliment of remaining till the fall of the curtain. Juliet trembled violently and clung to the wall. Go on, she said faintly. You had a box, as I learned from the business manager. But shortly after eight, your brother left the theater. You departed after nine. I went to see an old friend in the neighborhood, stammered Juliet. Ah, and was that neighborhood this one by any chance? In a handsome, which I believe you drove away in? One can reach this place from the Marlowe Theater in a quarter of an hour. I did not come here. Then where did you go? I declined to say. Where did your brother go? He did not tell me. Did the manager inform you of anything else? He merely told me that you and your brother left the theater, as I stated. You declined to reveal your movements? I do, said Juliet, clenching her hands and looking pale but defiant. My private business can have nothing to do with you. As you seek to connect me with this case, it is your business to prove what you say. I refuse to speak. Will your brother refuse? You had better ask him, said Miss Saxon carelessly, but with an effort to appear light-hearted, I don't inquire into my brother's doings, Mr. Jennings. Yet you heard about his gambling. I don't see what that has to do with the matter in hand.  I accuse no one, as yet, said Jennings, sugar-ended her reticence. I said that before. Did you not speak with your aunt on that night? No, said Juliet positively. I certainly did not. Jennings changed his tactics and became apparently friendly. Well, Miss Saxon, I won't bother you anymore. I am sure you have told me all you know. Juliet winced. Have you any idea if the weapon with which the crime was committed has been discovered? That is a strange question for a detective to ask. A very necessary one. Well, I know nothing about it, she said in an almost inaudible voice. Do you know Mrs. Hearn? I have met her once or twice here. Did you like her? I can't hardly say. I did not take much notice of her. She appeared to be agreeable, but she was overdressed and used a perfume which I disliked. Had you ever met anyone using such a perfume before? No, it was strong and heavy. Quite a new scent to me. The odor gave me a headache. Was Mrs. Hearn a great friend of your aunt's? I believe so. I believe so. She came here with Mr. Hale and Mr. Clancy to play. Hale, said Jennings. I forgot Hale.  No, I have given over the management of my property to our own lawyer. Mr. Hale was quite willing. Does your brother still make a friend of Mr. Hale? I don't know, said Juliet, changing color again. I do not ask about Basil's doings. I said that before. Hark, she added, anxious to put an end to the conversation, my mother is coming. I should like to see Mrs. Octagon, said Jennings. She will be here in a few minutes. I shall tell her, and Juliet, without a look, left the room, evidently glad to get away. Jennings frowned and took out a knife at which he looked. She knows a good deal about this affair, he murmured. Who is she shielding? I suspect her brother, otherwise she would not have hidden the knife. I wonder to whom it belongs. Here are three notches cut in a handle. There is a stain on the blade. Blood, I suppose. He got no further in his soliloquy, for Mrs. Octagon swept into the room with her most impressive manner. She was calm and cool, and her face wore a smile as she advanced to the detective. My dear Mr. Jennings, she said, shaking him warmly by the hand. I am so glad to see you, though I really ought to be angry, seeing you came to my house so often and never told me what you did. You might not have welcomed me had you known, he said, dryly. I am above such vulgar prejudices, said Mrs. Octagon, waving her hand eerily, and I am sure your profession is an arduous one. When Juliet told me that you were looking into this tragic death of my poor sister, I was delighted, so consoling to have to do with a gentleman in an unpleasant manner like this. Why have you come?  Just to have a look at the house, he said readily, for he was certain Juliet would not report their conversation to her mother. Mrs. Octagon shrugged her shoulders.  But my poor sister never did have much taste. Have you discovered anything likely to lead to the discovery of her assassin? I am ashamed to say I am quite in the dark, replied Jennings. I don't suppose the truth will ever be discovered. The woman appeared relieved, but tried to assume a sad expression. Oh, how very dreadful, she said. She will lie in her untimely grave, unavenged, alas, alas. But Jennings was not mystified by her tragic heirs. He was certain she knew something. And feared lest it should come to his knowledge. Therefore, he resolved to startle her by a blunt question. I never knew you were acquainted with Marikito. Mrs. Octagon was not at all taken aback. I don't know such creatures as a rule, she said calmly. What makes you think I do? I saw you enter her house one night.  I saw her in a little room off the salon where the play went on. The detective was surprised by this ready admission, and at once became suspicious. It would seem that Mrs. Octagon, expecting such a question, was uncommonly ready to answer it. May I ask you why you went to see this woman, he demanded? An innocent woman would have resented this question, but Mrs. Octagon ostentatiously seized the opportunity to clear herself, and thereby increase Jennings suspicions. Certainly, she said, in an open manner with a rather theatrical air. I went to beg my son's life from this fair siren. What on earth do you mean? Basil, said Mrs. Octagon, in her deep rich voice, is too fond of this fair stranger. Spanish is she not? She says she is, said the cautious Jennings. Mrs. Octagon shot a glance of suspicion at him, but at once resumed her engaging manner. The foolish boy loves her, she went on, clasping her hands and becoming poetical. His heart is captured by her starry eyes, and he would wed her for her loveliness. But I can't have that sort of thing, she added, becoming prosaic, so I went and told her I would denounce her gambling salon to the police if she did not surrender my son. She has done so, and I am happy.  You would know to what lengths it will lead a woman. I am glad your son is safe, said Jennings, with apparent cordiality, though he wondered how much of this was true. Marquito is not a good wife for him. Besides, she is a cripple. Yes, said Mrs. Octagon tragically, she is a cripple. Something in the tone of her voice made Jennings look up and created a new suspicion in his heart. However, he said no more, having learned as much as was possible from this tricky woman. I must go now, he said. I have examined the house. Mrs. Octagon led the way upstairs. And have you any clue? None, none, I wish you could assist me. I, she exclaimed indignantly. No, my sister and I were not friends, and I will have nothing to do with the matter. Good day. Mrs. Octagon sailed away after ushering the detective out of the door. Jennings departed, wondering at this change of front. As he passed through the gate, a fair, stupid-looking man entered. He nodded to Jennings, touched his hat, and at the same time a strong perfume saluted the detective's nostrils. Thomas Barnes uses Hikui also, murmured Jennings, walking away. Is he a member of the gang? End of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of The Secret Passage by Fergus Hume. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording today by Don Larson in Minnesota. The Secret Passage by Fergus Hume Chapter 15. A Dangerous Admission. Jennings had once witnessed a drama by Victorian Sardau entitled, In the English Version, Diplomacy. Therein a woman was unmasked by means of ascent. It seemed to him that perfume also played a part in this case. Why should Clancy, Mrs. Hearn, Hale, Marquito, and Thomas use a special odor? I wonder if they meet in the dark, thought the detective. And recognize each other by the scent. It seems very improbable, yet I can't see why they use it otherwise. That women should use perfumes, even the same perfume, is right enough. They love that sort of thing. But why should men do so, especially a man in the position of Thomas? I'll follow up this clue, if clue it is. The conversation with Juliet convinced Jennings that she knew of something connected with the matter, but was determined to hold her tongue. The fact that this knife was in her possession showed that she was aware of some fact likely to lead to the detection of the assassin. She might have found it when she came after the death to Rose Cottage, but in that case, had she nothing to conceal, she would have shown it to the police. Instead of this, she hid it in the attic. Jennings congratulated himself on his dexterity in securing this piece of evidence. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the very knife with which Miss Loach had been stabbed. And by a man, thought Jennings, no woman would have such a weapon in her possession, and if she bought one to accomplish a crime, she would purchase a stiletto or a pistol. It would take a considerable exercise of muscle to drive this heavy knife home. Jennings considered that the only person who could make Juliet speak was Cuthbert. It was true that she already had declined to make a confidant of him, but now, when there was a chance of his being arrested, as Jennings had hinted, she might be inclined to confess all, especially if it was Cuthbert she was shielding. But the detective fancied her brother might be the culprit. On the night of the murder both had left the Marlowe Theatre, which was near Rexton, and Juliet declined to say where they went. It might be that both had been on the spot about the time of the commission of the crime. Again, unless Miss Loach had admitted her assailant, he must have had a latch key to let himself in. From the fact that the poor woman had been found with the cards on her lap in the same position in which Susan had left her, Jennings was inclined to think that the assassin had struck the blow at once, and then had left the house at the half-hour. But how had he entered? There did not appear to be any secret entrance, and no one could enter by the windows, nor by the door either without a latch key. The further Jennings examined into the matter, the more he was puzzled. Never had he undertaken so difficult a case, but the very difficulty made him more the resolute to unravel the mystery. For two or three days he went about asking for information concerning the coining, and reading up details in the old newspapers about the exploits of the Salt family. Also he went occasionally to the salon of Signora Grados. There he constantly met Hale and Clancy. Also Basil came at times. That young man now adopted a somewhat insolent demeanor towards the pair, which showed that he was now out of their clutches and no longer had cause to fear them. Jennings felt sure that Basil could explain much, and he half determined to get a warrant out for his arrest in the hope that fear might make him confess. But unfortunately he had not sufficient information to procure such a thing, and was obliged to content himself with keeping a watch on the young Saxon. But the man sent, to spy, reported nothing suspicious about Basil's doings. In this perplexity of mine Jennings thought he would seek Huthbert, and relate what he had discovered. Also he hoped that Malo might interview Juliet, and learn the truth from her. But an inquiry at Malo's rooms showed that he had gone out of town for a few days with his uncle, and would not be back for another two. Pending this return, Jennings sorted his evidence. Then he was surprised to receive a letter from Mrs. Hearn, stating that she had returned to her place at Hamstead, and asked him to call. I understand from Mr. Clancy, wrote Mrs. Hearn, that you wish to see me in connection with the death of my poor friend. I shall be at home to Malo at four. Then followed the signature, and Jennings put away the note with a rather disappointed feeling. If he was right in suspecting Mrs. Hearn, she certainly felt little fear, else she would have declined to see him. After all, his supposition that the two women and the four men formed a gang of coiners, who worked in the unfinished house, might turn out to be wrong. But I'll see Mrs. Hearn, and have a long talk with her, said Jennings to himself, and I'll show the knife to Cuthbert Malo. Also I may examine the unfinished house. If coiners have been there or are there, I'll soon find out. Malo hunting for ghosts probably made only a cursory examination, and I'll take Drudge to Hamstead with me. Drudge was a detective who adored Jennings and thought him the very greatest man in England. He was usually employed in watching those whom his superior suspected, and Jennings could always rely on his orders being honestly executed. In this instance, Drudge was to wait some distance from the house of Mrs. Hearn until Jennings came out again. Then, on the conversation which had taken place would depend further orders. The man was silent and lean with a pair of sad eyes. He followed Jennings like a dog and never spoke unless he was required to answer a question. Mrs. Hearn did not possess a house of her own, which struck the detective as strange, considering she appeared to be a wealthy woman. She always wore costly dresses and much jewelry, yet she was content with two rooms one to sit in and the other to sleep in. Certainly the sitting room, which was all Jennings saw, was rather well furnished, and she apparently thoroughly appreciated the luxuries of life. There was a box window which commanded a fine prospect of Heath, and here Mrs. Hearn was seated. The blinds were half-way down so that the brilliant sunlight could not penetrate into the somewhat dusky room. When the detective entered, Mrs. Hearn excused the semi-darkness. My eyes are somewhat weak, she said, motioning him to a seat. However, if you wish for more light, she laid her hand on the blind cord. Not on my account, said Jennings, who did not wish to appear unduly suspicious. I am quite satisfied. Very well then, resumed Mrs. Hearn, crossing her delicate hands on her lap. We can talk. I am at your orders. She was arrayed in a blue silk dress of a somewhat vivid hue, but softened with black lace. She had a brooch of diamonds at her throat, a diamond necklace round it, bracelets set with the same gems and many costly rings. Such a mass of jewelry looked rather out of place in the daylight, but the twilight of the room made the glitter less pronounced. Jennings thought that Mrs. Hearn must have Jewish blood in her veins, seeing she was so fond of gems. Certainly she was very like Marikito even to having eyebrows almost meeting over her thin high nose. But these, as was her hair, were gray, and her skin lacked the rich coloring of the younger woman. Jennings rapidly took in the resemblance and commenced at the conversation, more convinced than ever that there was a bond of blood between Mrs. Hearn and Senor Gredos. This belief helped him not a little. I daresay Mr. Clancy told you why I wished to see you. Mrs. Hearn nodded in a stately way. Yes, you wished to know if I was in the bedroom of my friend on that evening. Well, I was. I went in for a few minutes to take off my cloak and hat, and then I went in again to resume them. Did you see anyone in the room? No. Had there be anyone, I should certainly have seen the person. But there is no place where anyone could hide. Not even a cupboard? There was a wardrobe for Miss Loach disliked cupboards, as she thought clothes did not get sufficiently aired in them. A wardrobe, and of course anyone might have hid under the bed, but I did not look. And, I don't think, added Mrs. Hearn, examining her rings, that anyone was about. Miss Loach was always very suspicious and searched the house regularly. Did she, then, anticipate anyone hiding, a burglar, for instance? Yes, I think she did. Her nature was warped from certain events which happened in her early life, and she suspected everyone. Was she on bad terms with anyone? No. She never quarreled. I am the quarrelsome person, said the lady smiling. I quarreled with Mr. Clancy, who is a rude man. But we have made it up since, and he has apologized. It was Mr. Clancy who told me of your wish to see me. Do you want to ask anything else? If you do not mind. On the contrary, I am anxious to afford you all the information in my power. Nothing would give me more satisfaction than to see the murderer of my dear friend brought to justice. She spoke with great feeling, and there was an unmistakable ring of truth about her speech. Jennings began to think he must be wrong in suspecting her to have anything to do with the death. All the same he was on his guard. It would not do to let Mrs. Hearn clever as she was pull the wool over his eyes. Have you any idea who killed Miss Loach, he asked? No. She was quite well on that evening and did not anticipate death in any way, least of all in a violent form. Mr. Hale, Mr. Clancy, and myself would have been with her till nearly midnight had I not quarreled with Mr. Clancy. As it was, Mr. Hale escorted me home about half past nine, and I understand Mr. Clancy left about ten. When Miss Loach was not playing wist or bridge, she never cared about having anyone in her house. She rather liked her privacy. Did she expect anyone that evening? No. At all events she said nothing about expecting anyone. Did she expect her nephew? Mr. Basil Saxon said Mrs. Hearn, looking surprised. Not that I am aware of. She did not mention his name. To be sure they were on bad terms and she had forbidden him in the house. No, I do not think she expected him. Do you know what the quarrel was about? It had something to do with money. I believe Miss Loach helped Mr. Saxon, who was rather extravagant, but she grew reary of his demands and refused to help him further. He lost his temper and said things which forced her to order him out of the house. Did he utter any threats? Miss Loach never said that he did. Mr. Jennings remarked the old lady, bending her brows. Is it possible you suspect that young man? No, I suspect no one at present, but I am bound to make inquiries in every direction, and of course, if Mr. Saxon is of a passionate temper, he might wish to avenge himself for being forbidden in the house. He has a temper, said Mrs. Hearn thoughtfully, but I never saw it exhibited, though I met him once at Miss Loach's. She said he had a lot of bad blood in him, but that may have been because she hated her sister Isabella Octagon. Did she hate her? Yes, and I think she had cause. Mrs. Octagon behaved very badly in connection with some romantic episode of the past. I fancy I know about that, said Jennings quickly, then added, You are fond of perfumes? What a strange question, laughed Mrs. Hearn. Yes, I am. Do you like this scent? It's called haiku and was given to me by a dear friend, who received it from a Japanese attaché. From a friend or relative? Mrs. Hearn frowned. What do you mean by that? Jennings shrugged his shoulders. Oh, nothing. Only you are very like a lady, called Signora Grados. Mariquito, said Mrs. Hearn unexpectedly. Of course I am. Her father was my brother. You are then her aunt? Naturally. But the fact is, I do not proclaim the relationship as I do not approve of Mariquito's gambling. Of course the poor thing is confined to her couch, and must have something to amuse her. All the same gambling on large scale is against my principles. But if asked, I do not disown the relationship. Now you understand why I am like Mariquito? I understand, hesitated Jennings. You belong to a Spanish family?  Do you speak Spanish? Yes, do you wish to speak it with me? Unfortunately I do not know the language, said Jennings, profoundly regretting the fact. And your niece? She does not speak it, she was brought up here in England. In that case, she should ask you if her name is masculine or feminine, Mrs. Hearn. The old lady started. I should like to know what you mean. Senora Grados Christian name should be Mariquita, not Mariquito. Really? I never gave the matter a thought. I will tell her about it if you like. I said she did not speak Spanish. She has led a strange life. At one time she wished to dance and took the name of Celestine Durand. She was taught by a professor of dancing called LeBeau, who lives in Pimlico. But while learning, she slipped in the street and became the wreck you see her. Certainly Mrs. Hearn was very frank, and she spoke the truth, as all this bore out the statements of LeBeau and Lord Caronby. Her maiden name was Saul, I believe, said Jennings, thinking Mrs. Hearn would deny this promptly. To his astonishment she did nothing of the sort. My maiden name is Saul, she said gravely. But as Mariquito is the daughter of my unfortunate brother, her true name is, the same not her maiden name you understand. I do not know how you learned this, but Lord Caronby paid a visit to Mariquito's salon and recognized that she was a Saul from her like this to Amelia, with whom, with whom he was in love, finished Mrs. Hearn crossing her hands. That painful story is well known to me. Amelia was my sister. Lord Caronby never told me she had one, said Jennings. Lord Caronby does not know the history of our family. Save what appears in the papers, put in the detective. Mrs. Hearn flushed through her shallow skin. It is not well bred of you to refer to the misfortunes of my family, she said. My mother and brother were unlucky. They were innocent of this charge of coining brought against them by an enemy. The evidence was very plain, Mrs. Hearn. Ha! she flashed out. You have been looking up the case. Why? From what Lord Caronby said, he had no right to say anything, cried Mrs. Hearn, rising and speaking vehemently. He loved my sister and she lost her life at that dreadful house. I was abroad at the time and had only just married. My husband was a jeweler. We cut ourselves off from the family when the misfortune came. Only of late years did I recognize Marikita when she came to me for assistance. Her father died and she had no money. I helped her to pay for her dancing. Oh! said Jennings, recalling the false money. You paid? Have you anything to say on that point? She asked totally. 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 that 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 Marikita. 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 to make inquiries. I am much obliged, said Jennings, quite believing her story, since she told it so earnestly. But does Marikita love Hale? No, she loves Mr. Mallow, Lord Caramby's nephew. She has a rival in Miss Saxon, said the detective. Mrs. Hearn turned red. My niece fears no rival, she said haughtily.  Jennings shrugged his shoulders. I do not see how she can stop the affair.  Ha! I thought there was some work of that kind. Hear me, cried Mrs. Hearn, imposing silence with the gesture. Basil Saxon is in love with Marikita and she can twist the poor fool around 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. Hearn 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 for ever next week. You will never see me again. I think I have asked you everything. By the way, 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 Malo, said Mrs. Hearn, closing her mouth firmly. Lord Karenby 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 Karenby are to be overcome. Ah, now you wish to know too much, said Mrs. Hearn, laughing and moving towards the center of the room. I refuse to tell you that. But if you are friendly with Miss Saxon, tell her to give up Malo, otherwise. Otherwise echoed Jennings curious to know why she paused. She will lose what is dearest to her. Huh, I wonder what that can be. Had you not better threatened Miss Saxon personally, Mrs. Hearn? I have no need to, Marquita will do that. With my niece as an enemy, Miss Saxon has no chance of gaining the prize she desires. But you reckon without the feelings of Mr. Malo. He loves— He does not— He does not, cried Mrs. Hearn, pressing one hand to her heart and speaking fiercely. He loves Marquita. And is she not worthy to be loved? Is she— Go! Go! Mrs. Hearn waved her hand. I have told you everything you asked and more. Should you require further information about Marquita's love, I refer you to herself. Oh, I am not interested enough in the matter to ask her, said the detective, and bowing to the lady who had sunk onto the sofa, took his departure. A strange idea occurred to him, suggested by the agitation of Mrs. Hearn. When he met Drudge, who was partaking of a glass of gin, he gave him instructions to watch the hemstead house, and follow Mrs. Hearn when she came out. Then, having posted his spy, for Drudge was nothing else, Jennings hurried back to town. That same evening he sent a wire to Cuthbert to the address given by the servant, asking him to come up to town the next morning. At eleven Jennings presented himself and found Cuthbert waiting for him, rather surprised and agitated. Why did you wire me in so preemptory a manner? asked Malo. Have you discovered anything? Yes, I am sorry to break your holiday. By the way, you have been at Brighton. Did you stop at the Metropolitan? Yes, I and Uncle Caramby have been there for a few days. Did you see Mrs. Hearn there? No, why do you ask? For a reason I'll tell you later. Jennings glanced round the room and his eyes became fixed on a trophy of arms. You are fond of these sort of things, he demanded? Yes, in a way. Yonder are war-spears, revolvers, swords, and… I see, I see. Here is an empty space. What was there? By Jove, I never noticed that before. I forget. Perhaps this will supply the gap, said Jennings and held out the knife. Do you recognize this? Certainly. There are three notches in the handle. It is my knife. Did you take it off the wall? End of Chapter 15


So in this video, I'm going to show you how you can create and download a CV from your LinkedIn profile So basically using the details and information in your LinkedIn profile You can create a CV in PDF format So this is how you do it go to your profile page And then you look for this more button and we click on more and you can see that the bottom option there is Build a resume so kind of American for CV So we'll click on that button there and you have got the option to Upload an existing CV here if you're applying for a job on LinkedIn for example Or you can create one from your profile, which is what we want to do here So I'm just going to click create and then it prompts me to put in the job title of the post that I am Applying for so I would rather it said social media trainer, but unfortunately, that's not in the database So I'm going to have to go for social media specialist there But that doesn't doesn't matter and then I'm going to click on apply and hey presto We have got my CV here as you can see with social media specialist the desired job title here So I can preview that to see what it'll actually look like in PDF format And you can see from this preview that it rolls over two pages And perhaps the the line break there isn't very satisfactory because we've got a previous job title there But no problem because we can download the CV as a PDF and then tidy that up by editing it So it's going to go to more and then click on download as PDF So that's going to download it to my desktop there and just to check to see what that looks like just going to click on that and There we go similar to the preview. We have the PDF CV so that is how to create a CV using your LinkedIn profile Thank you for watching and if you'd like to learn more skills by watching short videos Please subscribe to our channel here on YouTube And if you'd like to continue your learning journey with NILC, please visit us at NILC.co.uk See you next time