"If you wish to escape the police, you must stop using so unusual a perfume, Miss Saul—"
"Call me Maraquito; I am used to that name," she said harshly, and seated herself near the fire, shivering to keep up a character of old age, with slowly circulating blood.
"Let us say Maraquita," answered Caranby, smiling, "we may as well be grammatical. But this perfume betrays you. Jennings knows that your friends use it as a sign."
"Quite so," she answered, "it was clever of Jennings to have guessed its meaning. I invented the idea. But he is ill, and I don't think he has told anyone else about it. He is fond of keeping his discoveries to himself. He wants all the glory."
"Surely he has had enough by this time, Maraquita. But the scent—"
"You are quite right, I shall not use it for the future. But what do you think of my disguise? Would anyone know me?"
"Certainly not. But I wonder you have the courage to show yourself so disfigured to the woman who is your rival."
"Oh, as to that, she is my rival no longer," said Maraquito, with a gesture of disdain, "your nephew is not worthy of me. I surrender him from this moment."
"That is very wise of you. I expect you will go abroad and marry a millionaire."
"I might. But I have plenty of money of my own."