oin in, but, on second thoughts, he resolved to
stick to his original determination and stay away. It would be better,
he thought, to let Jennings carry out his plans unhampered. In order,
therefore, to preserve Basil's secret, Mallow nodded to the detective
and went home. That night he spent wondering what had become of
Maraquito.

Meantime, Jennings, with a dozen men, was on his way to Rexton. It was
now after eleven, and the clock struck the half hour as they landed at
Rexton Station. The police force of the suburb had been notified of
the raid about to be made, and Inspector Twining was on the spot. He
guided the party through the side path which terminated near Rose
Cottage. The night was dark and rainy, but there were occasional
gleams of moonlight. There was no light in the windows of Rose
Cottage, and everything appeared to be quiet. Behind loomed the ruins
of the unfinished house beneath which was the coining factory.

On the way to the spot Jennings conversed with Twining in low tones and
detailed his experience with Maraquito.

"I am quite sure that she has gone to the factory," he said; "she does
not think that I know about it. I fancy she will tell her pals that
the game is up and the lot will light out for America."

"They may have gone by this time," suggested the inspector.

"I don't think so. Maraquito must have just arrived, if indeed she has
come here. Besides, she will never guess that I know how to get into
the place, or indeed think that I know of its existence."

"How did you guess?"

"Guess is a good word. I just did guess, Twining. From various facts
which there is no time to tell you, I became convinced that there was a
factory in existence. Also I fancied that the death of that old lady
was connected with the preservation of the secret. But I only got at
the hard facts the other day, when a girl called Grant--"

"I remember. She gave evidence at the inquest."

"Precisely. Well, she brought me some plans belonging to her father
which she found. He was engaged in a quiet job hereabouts five years
ago, and died when it was finished. He was poisoned with arsenic."

"What! like that man Tyke?"

"Yes. The person who runs this show--Maraquito, I think--evidently has
a partiality for that extremely painful poison. Well, this workman
having constructed the secret entrance, was got out of the way by
death, so that the secret might be preserved. And I guess Miss Loach
w