"Will you play, Lord Caranby?" asked Maraquito, when the introduction had been accomplished.
"Pardon me, not at present: in a little time," said the old nobleman, with a polite bow and his eyes on the beautiful face.
"As you like," she answered carelessly; "everyone who comes here does just as he pleases. Is your nephew coming?"
"I fear not. He is unwell."
Maraquito started. "Unwell. Nothing serious, I hope?"
"A slight cold."
"Ah! Everyone has colds just now. Well, Lord Caranby, I hope to have a conversation with you later when someone else takes the bank."
Caranby bowed and moved away slowly, leaning on his cane. Jennings, who was beside him, threw a glance over his shoulder at Senora Gredos.
Maraquito's face was pale, and there was a frightened look in her eyes. Catching Jennings' inquisitive look she frowned and again addressed herself to the game. Wondering why Lord Caranby should produce such an effect, Jennings rejoined him at the end of the room, where they sat on a sofa and smoked. "Have you been here before?" asked the detective.
"No," answered the other, lighting his cigar, "and it is improbable that I shall come again. My reason for coming—" he broke off—"I can tell you that later. It is sufficient to say that it has to do with your conduct of this case."