“Oh, no,” she said with spirit. “This is all nonsense; there is no evidence, and there can be no evidence against me. For I can tell who it was that was last with the woman alive.”
Both men, she thought, looked interested, though they said nothing. She went on:—
“It was a man whom she called Eugène. But the name by which he is known here is not Eugène Reynolds, but Reginald Candover.”
“Well, ma’am, you needn’t tell us all this,” said the man who had stated that he had the warrant. “It won’t do you any good now; but if you tell it all to your solicitor at the trial, or rather before then—he’ll find out what he can for you, no doubt.”
“In the meantime, ma’am, if you’ll come along with us,” said the other man, who now spoke for the first time, “we’ve got to take you before a magistrate. It will only be the affair of a moment, and then you can send for your solicitor to see and advise you.”
“We’ve got a cab waiting, ma’am,” said the policeman.
But Audrey shook her head.
“I won’t go away with you,” she said firmly, “until I’ve had an opportunity of consulting some one.”
The men looked at each other.
“Can’t be done, ma’am, at least not yet. You must go before the magistrate first,” said the man with the warrant. “Afterwards, every facility will be given you.”