‘No, miss.’
‘Ah! We will see presently.’
‘They took him away, Miss Racksole.’
‘Who took him away? Some of your husband’s friends?’
‘Some of his—acquaintances.’
‘Then there is a gang of you?’
‘A gang of us—a gang! I don’t know what you mean,’ Miss Spencer quavered.
‘Oh, but you must know,’ smiled Nella calmly. ‘You can’t possibly be so innocent as all that, Mrs Tom Jackson. You can’t play games with me. You’ve just got to remember that I’m what you call a Yankee girl. There’s one thing that I mean to find out, within the next five minutes, and that is—how your charming husband kidnapped Prince Eugen, and why he kidnapped him. Let us begin with the second question. You have evaded it once.’
Miss Spencer looked into Nella’s face, and then her eyes dropped, and her fingers worked nervously with the tablecloth.
‘How can I tell you,’ she said, ‘when I don’t know? You’ve got the whip-hand of me, and you’re tormenting me for your own pleasure.’ She wore an expression of persecuted innocence.