The Secret Passage

"Jennings is a gentleman in spite of his profession," said Mallow in cutting tones. "I scarcely think he would take so great a liberty."

"Is it a liberty?" asked Maraquito softly.

"I consider it to be one. Jennings knows that I am engaged."

"Stop!" she cried, gripping her fan so tightly that her knuckles grew white. "Do you dare to tell me this?"

"Senora – Maraquito – don't let us have a scene. I told you before that I could not give you the love you asked."

"And I told you that I would have that love in spite of your unwillingness," said the woman doggedly. "You have scorned me, and I ought to have sufficient pride to let you go your own way. But I am such an infatuated fool that I am content to let you tread on me."

"I have no wish to do that, but – "

"You do – you do – you do!" she said, vehemently. "Why can you not love me? I would be a better wife than that doll you – "

"Drop that, Maraquito. Leave Miss Saxon's name out of the question."

"I shall talk of Miss Saxon as long as I like," cried Maraquito, snapping the fan and growing flushed. "You scorn me because I am an invalid – "

"I do not. If you were perfectly restored to health I would give you the same answer." Mallow was on his feet by this time. "I think it would be wise of me to go."

But Senora Gredos, stretching out her hand, caught him by the coat convulsively. "No! no! no!" she muttered fiercely. "I did not ask you to come here. I did not send for you. But now that you are here, you will stop. We must understand one another."

"We do understand one another," said Cuthbert, who was growing angry at this unreasonable attitude. "You must know that I am engaged to Miss Saxon!"

"You will never marry her – never!" cried Maraquito passionately; "oh, cruel man, can you not see that I am dying of love for you."

"Maraquito – "

"If I were not chained to this couch," she said between her teeth, "I should go after her and throw vitriol in her face. I would give her cause to repent having lured you from me with her miserable doll's face. Pah! the minx!"

Cuthbert grew really angry. "How dare you speak like this?" he said. "If you were able to attack Miss Saxon in the vile way you say, I should show you no mercy."

"What would you do – what would you do?" she panted.

"Put you in jail. That sort of thing may do abroad but we don't allow it here. I thought you were merely a foolish woman. Now I know you are bad and wicked."

"Cuthbert – Cuthbert."

"My name is Mallow to you, Senora Gredos. I'll go now and never see you again. I was foolish to come here."

"Wait – wait," she cried savagely, "it is just as well that you are here – just as well that we should come to an understanding."

"There can be no understanding. I marry Miss Saxon and – "

"Never, never, never! Listen, I can ruin her – "

"What do you mean?"

"Her brother – "

"Oh, Basil, I know all about that."

Maraquito threw herself back on her couch, evidently baffled. "What do you know?" she demanded sullenly.

"That you are about to accuse him of the death of Miss Loach."

"Yes, I do. He killed her. There is a forged bill in – "

"I know all about that also," said Cuthbert, making a gesture for her to be silent. "If you hope to stop my marriage with Miss Saxon by such means, you have wasted your time," he moved again towards the door. "It is time this interview ended," he said.

"Why did you seek it then?" she flashed out.

"I did not. Jennings wrote, asking me to call and see you. I understood that you had something to say to me."

"I have much – though how that detestable man knew I can't think. But I can disgrace that doll of a girl through her brother."

"No, you cannot. Basil is perfectly innocent of murder."

"You have to prove that," she sneered, her features quivering and one white hand clutching the purple drapery, "and you know – so you say, that Basil is a forger."

"He is a fool. I don't condone his folly, but his sister shall not suffer on his account. The bill to which Miss Loach's name was forged is in the possession of Miss Saxon – in fact I may tell you that Basil himself assured me it had been destroyed."

"Of course he would say that," scoffed Maraquito, her eyes flashing, "but the check to which Hale's name is affixed is not destroyed, and Hale shall proceed on that."

"Hale shall not do so," said Cuthbert resolutely. He did not wish to betray Hale's confidence, as a confession would entail the man's loss of the woman he loved. But it was necessary to stop Maraquito somehow; and Cuthbert attempted to do so in his next words, which conveyed a distinct threat. "And you will not move in the matter."

Maraquito laughed in an evil manner. "Won't I?" she taunted. "I just will. Hale will do what I want, and he will have Basil arrested unless you promise to give up this girl and marry me."

"Hale will do nothing, neither will you," retorted Cuthbert. "I don't care about threatening a woman, but you must not think that you are able to play fast and loose with me."

"How can you hurt me?" asked Maraquito with a scornful smile, although her lips quivered at his tone.

"I can tell Jennings that you are Bathsheba Saul!"

She turned quite pale. "I? My name is Maraquito Gredos."

"It is nothing of the sort. My uncle Lord Caranby came here and recognized you from your likeness to the woman Emilia he was once engaged to. He can state that in court."

"Where is his proof?"

"Proof will be forthcoming when necessary."

"Not to prove that I am Bathsheba Saul. I know nothing of the name."

Cuthbert shrugged his shoulders. He had said what was necessary and, unwilling to speak further, prepared to go. Maraquito saw him slipping from her grasp. Once gone, she knew he would never come back. With a cry of despair she stretched out her hands. "Cuthbert, do not leave me!" she cried in anguish.

"I must leave you. I was foolish to come. But you know now, that if you move in this matter I can move too. I doubt very much, madam, if your past life will bear looking into."

"You coward!" she moaned.

"I know I am a coward," said Mallow uncomfortably; "it is not my way to threaten a woman – I said that before. But I love Juliet so much that at any cost I must protect her."

"And my love counts for nothing."

"I am sorry, Maraquito, but I cannot respond. A man's heart is not his own to give."

"Nor a woman's," she moaned bitterly; "oh, heaven, how I suffer. Help!"

Cuthbert heard footsteps ascending the stairs – the light footsteps of a hasty man. But Maraquito's head had fallen back, her face was as white as snow and her mouth was twisted in an expression of anguish. She seemed to be on the point of death, and moved by her pain – for she really appeared to be suffering, he sprang forward to catch her in his arms. Had he not done so she would have fallen from the sofa. But hardly had he seized her form when she flung her arms round his neck and pressed her mouth to his. Then she threw back her head, not now white, but flushed with color and triumph. "I have you now," she said breathlessly. "I love you – I love you – I will not let you go!"

What Cuthbert would have done it is hard to say. Apparently Maraquito was determined to hold him there. But at this moment Jennings appeared at the door. On seeing him arrive so unexpectedly, Maraquito uttered a cry of rage and dismay, and released Mallow. "Send him away – send him away!" she cried, pointing to Jennings, who looked cold and stern. "How dare he come here."

"I come on an unpleasant errand," said Jennings, stepping forward. "I want you, Mallow!"

Cuthbert, who had moved forward, stopped. "Why do you want me?"

Jennings placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "I arrest you on the charge of murdering Selina Loach!"

Maraquito uttered a shriek, and Cuthbert's face grew red. The latter spoke first. "Is this a jest?" he asked harshly.

"You will not find it so."

"Let me pass. I refuse to allow you to arrest me."

Jennings still continued to keep his hand on Cuthbert's shoulder, whereupon the young man flung it aside. At the same moment Jennings closed with him, and a hand-to-hand struggle ensued. Maraquito, with straining eyes, watched the fight. With stiffened muscles the two reeled across the room. Cuthbert was almost too amazed to fight. That Jennings should accuse him and attack him in this way was incredible. But his blood was up and he wrestled with the detective vigorously. He was an excellent athlete, but Jennings was a west-country-man and knew all that was to be known about wrestling. With a quick twist of his foot he tripped up his opponent, and in a minute Cuthbert was lying on his back with Jennings over him. The two men breathed hard. Cuthbert struggled to rise, but Jennings held him down until he was suddenly dragged away by Maraquito, who was watching the fight eagerly. There she stood in the centre of the room which she had reached with a bound.

"I thought so," said Jennings, releasing Mallow and rising quickly.

Maraquito threw a small knife at Cuthbert's feet. "Kill him – kill him!" she said with hysterical force.

"There is no need to," said the detective, feeling his arms, which were rather sore. "Mallow, I beg your pardon for having fought you, but I knew you would not lend yourself to a deception, and the only way in which I could force this lady to show that she was able to walk was by a feigned fight."

"Then you don't intend to arrest me?" said Mallow, rising and staring.

"Never had any idea of doing so," rejoined Jennings coolly. "I wished to learn the truth about Mrs. Herne."

"Mrs. Herne!"

"Or Maraquito Gredos or Bathsheba Saul. She has a variety of names, my dear fellow. Which one do you prefer?" he asked, turning to the discovered woman.

Maraquito looked like the goddess of war. Her eyes flashed and her face was red with anger. Standing in a striking attitude, with one foot thrust forward, her active brain was searching for some means of escape. "I don't know what you mean by calling me these names!"

"I mean that you are to be arrested. You are Mrs. Herne. Your accident was merely a sham to avert suspicion."

"Mrs. Herne is my aunt."

"Pardon me, no. The only aunt you ever had was Emilia Saul, who died in Caranby's house. In our interview at Hampstead you betrayed yourself when we talked of Mallow. I had you watched. You were seen to enter this house, and out of it Mrs. Herne never came. Your servants do not know Mrs. Herne – only their invalid mistress."

Maraquito, seeing her danger, panted with rage, and looked like a trapped animal. "Even if this is true, which I deny," she said in a voice tremulous with rage, "how dare you arrest me, and for what?"

"For setting that boy Gibber to poison the man who called himself Tyke. The lad has left your service – which means he is in hiding."

"I know nothing about this," said Maraquito, suddenly becoming cool. "Do you mean to arrest me now?"

"I have the warrant and a couple of plain-dress detectives below. You can't escape."

"I have no wish to escape," she retorted, moving towards a door which led into an inner room. "I can meet and dispose of this ridiculous charge. The doctor told me that a sudden shock might bring back my strength. And that it has done. I am not Mrs. Herne – I am not Bathsheba Saul. I am Maraquito Gredos, a Spanish lady – "

"Who doesn't know her own language," said Jennings.

"I pass over your insults," said the woman with dignity. "But as you intend to take me away, will you please let me enter my bedroom to change my dress?"

Jennings drew aside and permitted her to pass. "I am not afraid you will escape," he said politely. "If you attempt to leave you will fall into the hands of my men. They watch every door."

Maraquito winced, and with a last look at the astounded Mallow, passed into the room. When she shut the door Mallow looked at Jennings. "I don't know what all this means," he said.

"I have told you," replied Jennings, rather impatiently, "the letter I sent you was to bring you here. The struggle was a feigned one on my side to make Maraquito defend you. I knew she would never let you be worsted if she could help; exactly as I knew you would never consent to play such a trick on her."

"Certainly not. With all her faults, she loves me."

"So well that she will kill Juliet Saxon rather than see her in your arms. Don't frown, Mallow, Maraquito is a dangerous woman, and it is time she was laid by the heels. You don't know what I have found out."

"Have you learned who killed Miss Loach?"

"No. But I am on the way to learn it. I'll tell you everything another time. Meanwhile, I must get this woman safely locked up. Confound her, she is a long time."

"She may have escaped," said Mallow, as Jennings knocked at the door.

"I don't see how she can. There are men at the front door and at a secret entrance she used to enter as Mrs. Herne." He knocked again, but there was no reply. Finally Jennings grew exasperated and tried to open the door. It was locked. "I believe she is escaping," he said, "help me, Mallow."

The two men put their shoulders to the door and burst it in. When they entered the bedroom it was empty. There was no sign of Maraquito anywhere, and no sign, either, of how she had managed to evade the law.

CHAPTER XXII

THE SECRET ENTRANCE

AS may be guessed, Jennings was very vexed that Maraquito had escaped. He had posted his men at the front and back doors and also at the side entrance through which Senora Gredos in her disguise as Mrs. Herne had entered. He never considered for the moment that so clever a woman might have some way of escape other than he had guessed. "Yet I might have thought it," he said, when Cuthbert and he left the house. "I expect that place is like a rabbit-burrow. Maraquito always expected to be taken some day in spite of her clever assumption of helplessness. That was a smart dodge."

"How did you learn that she was shamming?"

"I only guessed so. I had no proof. But when I interviewed the pseudo Mrs. Herne at her Hampstead lodgings, she betrayed so much emotion when speaking of you that I guessed it was the woman herself. I only tried that experiment to see if she was really ill. If she had not moved I should have been done."

"It seems to me that you are done now," said Cuthbert angrily. He was not very pleased at the use Jennings had made of him.

"By no means. Maraquito will take refuge in a place I know of. She does not fancy I am aware of its existence. But I am on my way there now. You can come also if you like."

"No," said Mallow decisively, "so far as I am concerned, I have no further interest in these matters. I told you so the other day."

"Don't you wish to know who killed Miss Loach?"

Mallow hesitated, and wondered how much the detective knew. "Have you any clue to the assassin?" he asked.

Jennings shrugged his shoulders. "I can't say that. But I suspect the coiners have something to do with the matter."

"The coiners?"

"Ah! I know you have not learned much about them. I have no time now to talk, but you will see everything in the papers shortly. I can tell you, Mallow, there's going to be a row."

Mallow, like all young Englishmen, was fond of fighting, and his blood was at once afire to join 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 was settled also in case she might give the alarm."

"But if the secret entrance is in the cottage," said Twining, "this old woman may have been aware of its existence."

"Certainly, and was about to split when she was killed. At least, that is my theory."

"She must have been in with the gang."

"I have never been able to fix that," said Jennings thoughtfully. "I know she was a lady and of good birth. Also she had money, although she condemned herself to this existence as a hermit. Why she should let Maraquito and her lot construct a secret entrance I can't understand. However, we'll know the truth to-night. But you can now guess, Twining, how the bell came to be sounded."

"No, I can't," said the inspector, promptly.

"I forgot. You don't know that the secret entrance is in the room where Miss Loach was murdered. Well, one of the gang, after the death, sounded the bell to call attention to the corpse, and then slipped away before Susan Grant could get to the room."

"But why should this person have sounded the bell?"

"That is what I have to find out. There's a lot to learn here."

"Have you any idea who killed Miss Loach?"

"Maraquito, under the disguise of Mrs. Herne."

"Was she Mrs. Herne?"

"Yes. She masqueraded as an invalid who could not leave her couch, but I managed to get at the truth to-night."

"But from the evidence at the inquest, Mrs. Herne was out of the house when the blow was struck."

"Quite so: But we did not know of this secret entrance then. I fancy she came back – "

"But how can you – "

"There's no more time to talk," interrupted Jennings. "We must get to work as soon as possible. Order your men to surround the house."

"And the park also?"

"We have not enough men for that. And I don't think there's any other exit from the factory save that through Rose Cottage. If there was, Maraquito and her two friends would not have played whist so persistently with Miss Loach every night."

"It was three times a week, I think."

"Well, it doesn't matter. Here we are." Jennings opened the garden gate and walked boldly up the path towards the silent house. The men, under the low-spoken directions of Twining, spread themselves round the house so as to arrest any coiner who might attempt escape. Then the detective rang the bell. There was no answer for a few minutes. He rang again.

A window in the cottage was opened cautiously, and the head of Mrs. Pill, in a frilled nightcap of gigantic size, was thrust out. "Is that you, Thomas, coming home at this late hour the worse for drink, you idle wretch, and me almost dead with want of sleep."

"It's a message from your husband, Mrs. Barnes," said Jennings, signing to Twining to keep out of sight. "Come and open the door, and I'll tell you what has happened."

"Oh, lor! is Thomas gone the way of flesh?" wailed Mrs. Barnes, formerly Pill. "Come to the cottage door."

"No. Open this one," said Jennings, who had his own reasons for this particular entrance being made use of. "You know me – "

"Mr. Jennings, as was in the case of my pore, dear, dead lady. Of course I knows you, sir, and the fact as you are police makes me shudder to think as Thomas is jailed for drink. Wait one moment, sir. I'll hurry on a petticoat and shawl. How good of you to come, sir."

When the window shut down, Jennings bent towards the inspector, who was crouching on the other side of the steps. "This woman is innocent," he whispered. "She knows nothing, else she would not admit us so quickly."

"It may be a blind, Jennings. She may have gone to give the gang warning, you know."

"I don't know," retorted the detective sharply. "I am quite sure that Mrs. Barnes doesn't even know her husband Thomas is one of the lot. I don't care if she does give warning either, if your surmise is correct. All our men are round the house, and if any of the gang escape we can collar them."

"That is supposing there isn't another exit from the unfinished house," muttered Twining, anxious to have the last word.

Mrs. Barnes appeared at the door in a brilliant red petticoat, a white woollen shawl, and the cap aforesaid. Her feet were thrust into carpet slippers and she carried a candle. "An' it is good of you, sir, to come 'ere and tell me that Thomas is in jail, he being-"

"We can talk of that inside," said the detective, pushing past her. "I suppose you don't mind my friend coming in."

Mrs. Barnes almost dropped when she saw the second person, especially when she noted the uniform. "It must be murder at least," she wailed, almost dropping the candle in her fright; "lor! do tell me, sir, that Thomas have not murdered anyone."

"Lead us down to the sitting-room and we'll tell you, Mrs. Barnes."

"I can't do that, sir, Mr. Clancy may be 'ome any moment"

"Isn't he at home now?"

"Bless you, no, Mr. Jennings, he being fond of goin' out, not that he's an old man, and why shouldn't he enjoy hisself. Not that a woman could wish for a better lodger, though he only bin 'ere a week or so, he givin' no trouble and havin' a latch-key."

"I want to see Mr. Clancy also," said Jennings impatiently, while Twining turned on the electric light in the hall. "Take us down to the basement."

The woman would have objected again, but from the stern expression on her visitors' faces she judged that it would be wiser to obey. She descended, candle in hand, turning on the lights as she went down. In the sitting-room she paused and faced the detective. "Do tell me what's wrong, sir?" she asked. "Thomas is a fool, but we're newly wed and I shouldn't like anything to 'appen to 'im, though he do take fondly-like to the bottle."

"When did Thomas go out?"

"At eight, and Mr. Clancy at nine, though Mr. Clancy havin' a latch-key, don't give me trouble lettin' him in which Thomas does."

"Ah!" said Jennings, with a side-glance at the inspector, "so your husband goes out often?"

"He do, sir. Three times a week. I 'ave tried to break 'im of these larky 'abits but he won't do what I arsks him. I wish I'd stopped at bein' Pill," wailed Mrs. Barnes, wiping her eyes. "An' if Thomas is drunk and bail bein' required – "

"I don't know if your husband is drunk or sober," interrupted Jennings. "We are on a different errand. Tell me, Mrs. Barnes, do you know if Miss Loach had a secret entrance to this room?"

"Lor no, sir," cried the woman, casting a surprised glance round, "whatever would she 'ave that for, pore dear?"

"The furniture is oddly placed," said Twining.

And indeed it was. Tables and chairs and sofa were ranged in two lines on either side of the room, leaving the middle portion bare. The floor was covered with a Turkey carpet down the centre, but the sides of the floor were without covering. Mrs. Barnes explained this.