uito's gambling. Of course the poor thing is
confined to her couch and must have something to amuse her. All the
same, gambling on a large scale is against my principles. But, if
asked, I do not disown the relationship. Now you understand why I am
like Maraquito."

"I understand," hesitated Jennings, "you belong to a Spanish family?"

"Spanish Jews. I am a Jewess, so is Maraquito."

"Do you speak Spanish?"

"Yes. Do you wish to speak it with me?"

"Unfortunately I do not know the language," said Jennings, profoundly
regretting the fact. "And your niece?"

"She does not speak it. She was brought up in England."

"In that case she should ask you if her name is masculine or feminine,
Mrs. Herne?"

The old lady started. "I should like to know what you mean?"

"Senora Gredos' Christian name should be Maraquita, not Maraquito!"

"Really. I never gave the matter a thought. I will tell her about it
if you like. I said she did not speak Spanish! She has led a strange
life. At one time she wished to dance and took the name of Celestine
Durand. She was taught by a professor of dancing called Le Beau, who
lives in Pimlico, but while learning she slipped in the street and
became the wreck you see her."

Certainly Mrs. Herne was very frank, and spoke the truth, as all this
bore out the statements of Le Beau and Lord Caranby. "Her maiden name
was Saul, I believe," said Jennings, thinking Mrs. Herne would deny
this promptly.

To his astonishment she did nothing of the sort. "My maiden name is
Saul," she said gravely. "But as Maraquito is the daughter of my
unfortunate brother, her true name is the same--not her maiden name,
you understand. I do not know how you learned this, but--"

"Lord Caranby paid a visit to Maraquito's salon and recognized that she
was a Saul from her likeness to Emilia, with whom--"

"With whom he was in love," finished Mrs. Herne, crossing her hands;
"that painful story is well known to me. Emilia was my sister."

"Lord Caranby never told me she had one," said Jennings.

"Lord Caranby does not know the history of our family."

"Save what appeared in the papers," put in the detective.

Mrs. Herne flushed through her sallow skin. "It is not well bred of
you to refer to the misfortunes of my family," she said; "my mother and
brother were unlucky. They were innocent of this charge of coining,
brought against them by an enemy."

"The evidence was very plain, Mrs. Herne."