“Not despite—because of—the evidence, Mr. Cunningham!” He turned to Anthony with the same kind of look as before, but Anthony remained silent. I got the impression that Baddeley would have liked to make him talk, and that Anthony knew it.
“We’ll have her in here, Mr. Bathurst.” He went to the door and called Roper.
“Bring that maid Marshall in here, Roper. Don’t tell her anything—don’t even say who it is wants to speak to her.”
Marshall came, shepherded by Roper. She was very white, but still held her head high with a sort of impudent defiance.
“Sit down there,” said Baddeley, motioning her to a chair. “I’ve sent for you because I want you to pass on a little useful information. Got that?”
She tossed her head back. “I’ve told you all I know, Inspector, and that being so, I can’t very well tell you any more,” and a bright red spot blazed in her white cheek.
Baddeley waved her protestations on one side. Here he was sure of himself, certain of what he was going to do, confident of ultimate success.
“There’s one piece of information you can give me, my girl, and that dead smart, so make up your mind on that,” he rapped. “You might as well know now as later ... the game’s up!!”
Marshall gasped, and her hand went to her throat ... helplessly.
“Where’s ‘Spider’ Webb to be found these days?” roared Baddeley. “Eh—Mrs. Webb?”