Horton meditated for a moment.
"No," he said, "he has stopped paying."
Piquette Morin leaned further over the table, frowning.
"Ah! Since when?"
"For—er—three months or more."
"Then you t'ink he suspects somet'ing?"
"I don't know. It looks so, doesn't it?"
"Yes, perhaps." She paused a moment and then, "I make him talk about de past, as you ask' me to. I am no saint and de bon Dieu has taught me to look out for myself. I shall continue. If he tries to get rid of me de way he did wit' his wife, he will find me troublesome."
Horton laughed. "I don't doubt it." And then, carefully, "You heard how he got rid of her?" he questioned.
"It was 'er riches, of course. 'E spent 'er 'dot' in a few month gambling at Monte Carlo, and den when 'e came to 'er for more 'e abuse and beat 'er." She paused and her dark eyes snapped viciously. "'E would not have beaten me," she finished.