and her red lips
drew closer. Yet she cried, still pleasantly:

"What do you mean by that, Detective Carter? Is it a joke?"

"You'll find it no joke."

"If it is, sir, I don't see the point."

"You will have a chance to look for it at the Tombs," replied Nick, with
grim quietude. "Senora Cervera, I want you to go along with me."

"The Tombs! Go with you! What do you mean?"

"I mean that you are now under arrest."

"Arrest! For what?"

"For the murder of a girl named Mary Barton," Nick bluntly rejoined,
ignoring the woman's increasing display of amazement and resentment.

"Mary Barton!" cried Cervera. "I never heard of the girl."

"Nevertheless," said Nick, sternly, "you met her on Fifth Avenue this
afternoon, and gave her a jewel casket containing a venomous snake,
which you had stolen from the den of Pandu Singe, and by which means you
inadvertently killed Mary Barton, instead of another for whom your
infernal design was intended. I am aware of all of your late movements,
senora, you see."

"I see that you are a devil!" cried Cervera, with a sudden passionate
outburst. "How dare you come here with such a story as that?"

For a moment at least, the fact that Nick already had discovered nearly
every detail of her infamous crime--though committed only a few hours
before--almost completely unnerved her, and her changing countenance,
her irrepressible outbreak, and the violent agitation of her lithe,
nervous figure, were tokens of self-betrayal by no means unobserved by
Nick.

"You'll have a chance to refute the story before a judge and jury," Nick
curtly answered. "At present you are in my custody, however, and you
must go with me."

Cervera rose to her feet, trembling visibly, and gripped the back of her
chair as if for support.

"There must be some terrible mistake, Detective Carter," she now cried,
with well-feigned distress and alarm. "Surely you do not mean this,
sir? Surely you do but jest?"

"On the contrary, senora, I mean every word that I have said."

"That I am under arrest?"

"Yes."

"And must go with you?"

"Precisely."

"To the Tombs?"

"To the Tombs, senora."

"Oh! this is dreadful--dreadful!" craftily moaned Cervera, with tears
now filling her eyes.

"I am sorry for you, senora, but I must do my duty," said Nick, rising.

"I know you must--but, oh! what shall I do? To whom can I appeal? Oh! if
Mr. Venner were only here!"

"You can send a messenger for him later, or dispa