“Well, I don’t git no shampin down ’ere, dearie,” said Mrs. Slaig crossly, and, like Jotty, biting the gold to make sure it was genuine. “We taikes what we can. Wan’t t’ know anythin’ else, lovey dovey?”
“No,” answered Marie, walking into the passage, for the smell and closeness of the place was making her feel faint. “But you needn’t tell anyone what I asked you about.”
“Sha’n’t nohow,” said Mother Slaig firmly. “Y’ve browt back daiys when I was a pretty girl and ’ad all the men arter me, furious-like. You’re a breath o’ fresh air an’ a smell of country roses, an’ a sight o’ green fields, t’ yours truly, dearie. An, never a word shell I say, save as you’re a visitor with tracts—tho’ you ain’t guv me one, but summit better.” Mother Slaig felt for her sovereign as she spoke. “But if there’s police, dearie, an’ I ’as t’ saive m’ bacon, I mus’ speak.”
“There will be no trouble with the police,” Marie assured her in a low and hurried voice, for her friendly constable was just at the end of the passage. “Good-bye, Mrs. Slaig.”
“Go’bye, dearie,” she attempted a curtsey, but failed for want of breath. “’An bless y’ fur an angil o’ delight wiff stars roun’ yer ’ead.”
Marie laughed and hurried away in the shadow of the policeman, who refused to accept a tip. Again she was passed from one constable to another, until she regained the station, and every one of her temporary guides declined money.
“The most chivalrous men in the world,” said Marie afterwards, “are London policemen!” and she never changed her opinion on this point.
CHAPTER XVII
THE SECRET
Considering that Marie was inexperienced in worldly matters, she acted with extraordinary foresight and determination. Few girls would have risked that journey to the Rotherhithe slum, or would have conducted the interview with Mother Slaig so discreetly. Certainly her lucky star was in the ascendant when she plunged into those malodorous depths, as she had been guarded from all peril by the various policemen; but her own diplomatic behavior had accomplished the impossible with the old harridan. Marie returned home with the full belief that Morad-Bakche was the guilty person, since he desired to obtain possession of the peacock, and he had been haunting the house wherein Baldwin Grison resided. That Sorley had held the bird—a fact vouched for by Alan—she believed was due to the machinations of Miss Grison, who evidently was working in concert with the Indian to ruin the man. And Bakche’s reward would be possession of the jewels, since Marie fancied the dead man’s sister had possibly guessed the riddle of the ornament. If this was so, there was no need for either of the conspirators to retain possession of the peacock, since it had yielded up its secret.
With this idea Marie came back to Lewes, and there she sent a telegram to Alan asking him to come down the next day. She was anxious to impart her discovery to her lover, and to show him that she also was able to help in the matter of tracing Grison’s assassin, and obtaining the treasure. On the evidence she had discovered concerning Bakche’s presence at Rotherhithe, a new departure might be taken relative to the conduct of the case. But Marie felt that she could venture no further along the dark path unassisted, and therefore wished for Alan’s co-operation. She knew that the telegram would bring him to her at once, and retired to bed with the conviction that he would lose no time in coming to Belstone. Of course on her return, she had to answer numerous inquiries from granny and the maids as to what she had been doing, but managed to answer without stating too plainly what her errand had been. She was very weary when she placed her head on the pillow, and fell asleep almost immediately.