"Ah, now you wish to know too much," said Mrs. Herne, laughing and moving towards the center of the room. "I refuse to tell you that. But if you are friendly with Miss Saxon, tell her to give up Mr. Mallow. Otherwise—"
"Otherwise," echoed Jennings, curious to know why she paused.
"She will lose what is dearest to her."
"Humph! I wonder what that can be. Had you not better threaten Miss Saxon personally, Mrs. Herne?"
"I have no need to, Maraquito will do that. With my niece as an enemy, Miss Saxon has no chance of gaining the prize she desires."
"But you reckon without the feelings of Mr. Mallow. He loves—"
"He does not—he does not!" cried Mrs. Herne, pressing one hand to her heart and speaking fiercely; "he loves Maraquito. And is she not worthy to be loved? Is she—go—go." Mrs. Herne waved her hand. "I have told you everything you asked, and more. Should you require further information about Maraquito's love, I refer you to herself."
"Oh, I am not interested enough in the matter to ask her," said the detective, and bowing to the lady who had sunk on the sofa, took his departure. A strange idea occurred to him, suggested by the agitation of Mrs. Herne.
When he met Drudge, who was partaking of a glass of gin, he gave him instructions to watch the Hampstead house and follow Mrs. Herne when she came out. Then having posted his spy—for Drudge was nothing else—Jennings hurried back to town. That same evening he sent a wire to Cuthbert to the address given by the servant, asking him to come up to town next morning.
At eleven Jennings presented himself and found Cuthbert waiting for him, rather surprised and agitated. "Why did you wire me in so peremptory a manner?" asked Mallow; "have you discovered anything?"