'
'Who is your husband? 'Tom Jackson - Jules, you know, head
waiter at the Grand Babylon.'
'So Jules's real name is Tom Jackson? Why did he want you to
leave without giving notice?'
'I'm sure I don't know, Miss Racksole. I swear I don't know. He's
my husband, and, of course, I do what he tells me, as you will
some day do what your husband tells you. Please heaven you'll get
a better husband than mine!'
Miss Spencer showed a sign of tears.
Nella fingered the revolver, and put it at full cock. 'Well,' she
repeated, 'why did he want you to leave?' She was tremendously
surprised at her own coolness, and somewhat pleased with it, too.
'I can't tell you, I can't tell you.'
'You've just got to,' Nella said, in a terrible, remorseless tone.
'He - he wished me to come over here to Ostend. Something had
gone wrong.
Oh! he's a fearful man, is Tom. If I told you, he'd - '
'Had something gone wrong in the hotel, or over here?'
'Both.'
'Was it about Prince Eugen of Posen?'
'I don't know - that is, yes, I think so.'
'What has your husband to do with Prince Eugen?'
'I believe he has some - some sort of business with him, some
money business.'
'And was Mr Dimmock in this business? 'I fancy so, Miss
Racksole. I'm telling you all I know, that I swear.'
'Did your husband and Mr Dimmock have a quarrel that night in
Room 111?'
'They had some difficulty.
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