"No, sir, she isn't. I made friends with a boy called Gibber—"
"Yes. He is a page in the house. Well?"
"I gave him a drink or two," said Drudge, "and a few stamps, as he is a collector. He become friendly with me, and I asked him about the house. He was very frank, but he said nothing about the gambling."
"Humph! I expect he has been told to hold his tongue. Well, did you hear anything at all?"
"I heard that Gibber had never seen Mrs. Herne. He did not even know her name. Now, sir," went on Drudge, laying a finger in the palm of his hand, "if Mrs. Herne was stopping at the Soho house, Gibber would have seen her."
A flash of joy passed across the countenance of Jennings, but he turned away from his underling so that he might not betray the satisfaction he felt. "Mrs. Herne is Maraquito's aunt," he said again.
"No, sir, pardon me. Maraquito hasn't got an aunt. Leastways the aunt, if there is such a person, has never set foot in the house."
"Perhaps Maraquito sees her secretly."
"Well," said Drudge pensively, "she certainly went in by a side door, Mr. Jennings. Do you want me to watch further, sir?"
"Yes. Keep your eye on the Soho house, and should Mrs. Herne reappear, follow her. Anything else?"