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."