"I could not help myself, sir. The policeman ordered me to go away, and it was not for me to disobey the law. I left them there for twenty minutes, and then I came up to see what they were doing. The policeman had gone and so had the cab, though I swear to you, Mr. Jones, that I never heard it drive away. The lady was sitting, cool as you like, at your desk there, writing."
"What was she writing?"
"That, sir, I don't rightly know, as she put her letter into an envelope, and here it is."
He snatched the letter Mrs. Hicks produced from her pocket, and said something not very complimentary to that good woman's brains. She was indignant, and would fain have argued with him, but he silenced her with a gesture, and hurriedly read the letter. As he had already guessed, the writer was Lady Jenny Malet; and she merely asked him to call at her house in Curzon Street for explanations. So she put it, somewhat ironically perhaps, and Van Zwieten swore once again--this time at the phrase. He put the letter in his pocket, determined to accept the invitation, and to have it out with this all too clever lady. Meanwhile Mrs. Hicks rose to make a speech.
"I have to give you notice, sir," she said in her most stately tones, "as I have not been in the habit of letting my rooms to folk as is wanted by the police. You will be pleased to leave this day week, which, I believe, was the agreement."
"I intend to leave this day," retorted her lodger. "I told you I was going, and I have not seen fit to alter my decision. I will send for my furniture this afternoon, and I will pay your account now."
"Thank you, sir. I shall be most obliged, and I think you should pay me extra for the disgrace you have brought on my house. Oh," wailed Mrs. Hicks, "to think I should have lodged murderers and forgers!"
Van Zwieten started at the word "murderer," but he recovered himself quickly. He dismissed her with a shrug. "Go down and make your account out," he said. "You have done mischief enough already."
"Oh, indeed!" cried the woman, shrilly. "I do like you, sir, disgracing my honest house, and then turning on me! I have been deceived in you, Mr. Jones; never again will I let my lodgings to mysterious gentlemen. And when they put you in the dock, sir, I'll come and see you hanged!" and with this incoherent speech Mrs. Hicks tottered out of the room.
Left alone, Van Zwieten lost no time in vain lamentation. He had been beaten by his enemies for the present; he could only wait to see if the tide of war would turn. It would be necessary to make terms with Lady Jenny and Wilfred, for they now possessed the evidences of his employment in England. But on his side he could use his knowledge of the murder and of Harold's connection with it--as witness the revolver--to keep them quiet. If they could bite, so could he.