It was a bargain which the astute Frenchwoman was proposing openly to the authorities. Tarleton shrugged his shoulders. He was the last man to commit himself to anything of the kind.
“The moment I am satisfied that you are withholding any information that bears on the case I shall advise the police to close this place, and apply for your deportation as an alien, Madame Bonnell.”
The capable Frenchwoman saw that she had made a false step. She retracted it immediately in admirable distress.
“But Monsieur must pardon me! I am bewildered by the situation in which I find myself. I do not understand the Britannic law. I am ready to throw myself on Monsieur’s consideration. What is it that he would have me say?”
The physician looked at his watch.
“I am waiting for your answer to Dr. Cassilis.”
Madame Bonnell gave me an appealing look, of which I thought it best to take no notice. I had seen nothing of her during the time I had spent at the dance, and I was confident that she was quite ignorant of my presence at it. She found herself compelled to speak without assistance.
“The Doctor Cassilis is mistaken,” she said at last, with an air of weighing each word before she uttered it. “Monsieur Wilson was acquainted with the people whom he introduced here, undoubtedly, but they were not all his friends. On the contrary, some of them were his enemies, and he went in fear of them. Even in mortal fear.”
It was the revelation Tarleton seemed to have been anticipating. He gave the short, satisfied nod I knew so well.
“Go on,” he commanded. “Explain how you knew this.”