tation that he was a chatterer, "can I come and see you to talk
over this matter?"

"By all means. I am at the Avon Hotel."

"Oh, and by the way, will you allow me to go over that house of yours
at Rexton?"

"If you like. Are you a ghost-hunter also?"

"I am a detective!" whispered Jennings quietly, and with such a look
that Caranby became suddenly attentive.

"Ah! You think you may discover something in that house likely to lead
to the discovery of the assassin."

"Yes I do. I can't explain my reasons now. The explanation would take
too long. However, I see Senora Gredos is beckoning to you. I will
speak to Hale and Clancy. Would you mind telling me what she says to
you?"

"A difficult question to answer," said Caranby, rising, "as a
gentleman, I am not in the habit of repeating conversations, especially
with women. Besides, she can have no connection with this case."

"On the face of it--no," replied Jennings doubtfully, "but there is a
link--"

"Ah, you mean that she is Emilia's niece."

"Not exactly that," answered Jennings, thinking of the photograph. "I
will tell you what I mean when we next meet."

At this moment, in response to the imperative beckoning of Maraquito's
fan, Caranby was compelled to go to her. The couch had been wheeled
away from the green table, and a gentleman had taken charge of the
bank. Maraquito with her couch retreated to a quiet corner of the
room, and had a small table placed beside her. Here were served
champagne and cakes, while Lord Caranby, after bowing in his
old-fashioned way, took a seat near the beautiful woman. She gazed
smilingly at Lord Caranby, yet there was a nervous look in her eyes.

"I have heard of you from Mr. Mallow," she said flushing.

"My nephew. He comes here at times. Indeed," said Caranby gallantly,
"it was his report of your beauty that brought me here to-night."

Maraquito sighed. "The wreck of a beauty," said she bitterly, "three
years ago indeed--but I met with an accident."

"So I heard. A piece of orange peel."

The woman started. "Who told you that?"

"I heard it indirectly from a professor of dancing. You were a dancer,
I believe?"

"Scarcely that," said Senora Gredos, nervously playing with her fan; "I
was learning. It was Le Beau who told you?"

"Indirectly," responded Caranby.

"I should like to know," said Maraquito deliberately, "who has taken
the trouble to tell you this. My life--the life of a shattered