MISS BAYLIS
Next day, a little noon, Spargo himself in one of those yet Bayswater squares, which are almost up to the trade, calling, or of the and boarding-house keeper. They are very pretentious, those squares, with their many-storied houses, their frontages, and their and doorways; country folk, into them from the station of Paddington, take them to be the of the and who, of course, live else but in London. They are in this by the that male in dress are often at the in more or less attitudes. These, of course, are taken by the country to be the air of Bayswater, but others, more knowing, are aware that they are Swiss or German waiters might be cleaner.
Spargo the of the house at which he called as soon as the door was opened to him. There was the of eggs and bacon, of fish and chops; the mixed and of overcoats, wraps, and in the hall; the of to answer the bell. And presently, in answer to his enquiries, there was the type of him, a more than middle-aged person who to look younger, and in the way of false hair, teeth, and a little rouge, and who that air and which in its wearer—under these circumstances—always means that she is you will be able to her or she will be able to see you.
"You wish to see Miss Baylis?" said this person, Spargo closely. "Miss Baylis not often see anybody."
"I hope," said Spargo politely, "that Miss Baylis is not an invalid?"
"No, she's not an invalid," the landlady; "but she's not as as she was, and she's an to strangers. Is it anything I can tell her?"
"No," said Spargo. "But you can, if you please, take her a message from me. Will you give her my card, and tell her that I wish to ask her a question about John Maitland of Market Milcaster, and that I should be much if she would give me a minutes."
"Perhaps you will down," said the landlady. She Spargo into a room which opened out upon a garden; in it two or three old ladies, inmates, were sitting. The left Spargo to with them and to himself by them or or read the papers, and he if they always did these every day, and if they would go on doing them until a day would come when they would do them no more, and he was to very when the door opened and a woman entered Spargo, after one at her, to be a person who was out of the common. And as she slowly walked across the room him he let his into a look of inspection.
The woman Spargo thus was of very appearance. She was almost masculine; she nearly six in height; she was of a and tread, and spare, muscular, and athletic. What at once Spargo about her was the her dark and her white hair; the hair, in a well-shaped head, was of the most whiteness; the of a coal-blackness, as were also the above them. The were well-cut and of a firmness; the square and determined. And Spargo's on taking all this in was that Miss Baylis to have been by Nature to be a prison wardress, or the of a hospital, or the of an girl, and he to wonder if he would manage to anything out of those firmly-locked lips.
Miss Baylis, on her part, looked Spargo over as if she was half-minded to order him to execution. And Spargo was so by her that he a and a in his tongue.
"Mr. Spargo?" she said in a voice which to her. "Of, I see, the Watchman? You wish to speak to me?"
Spargo again in silence. She him to the window near which they were standing.
"Open the casement, if you please," she him. "We will walk in the garden. This is not private."
Spargo her orders; she through the opened window and he her. It was not until they had the of the garden that she spoke again.
"I that you to ask me some question about John Maitland, of Market Milcaster?" she said. "Before you put it. I must ask you a question. Do you wish any reply I may give you for publication?"
"Not without your permission," Spargo. "I should not think of anything you may tell me with your permission."
She looked at him gloomily, to an of his good faith, and her head.
"In that case," she said, "what do you want to ask?"
"I have had for making about John Maitland," answered Spargo. "I you read the newspapers and possibly the Watchman, Miss Baylis?"
But Miss Baylis her head.
"I read no newspapers," she said. "I have no in the of the world. I have work which all my time: I give my whole to it."
"Then you have not of what is as the Marbury case—a case of a man who was murdered?" asked Spargo.
"I have not," she answered. "I am not likely to such things."
Spargo that the power of the Press is not as great as far-reaching as very it to be, and that there actually are, in London, people who can live without a newspaper. He his and on.
"Well," he said, "I that the man, to the police as John Marbury, was, in reality, your brother-in-law, John Maitland. In fact, Miss Baylis, I'm of it!"
He this with some emphasis, and looked at his to see how she was impressed. But Miss Baylis no of being impressed.
"I can that, Mr. Spargo," she said coldly. "It is no to me that John Maitland should come to such an end. He was a and man, who the most terrible on those who were, unfortunately, with him. He was likely to die a man's death."
"I may ask you a questions about him?" Spargo in his most manner.
"You may, so long as you do not my name into the papers," she replied. "But pray, how do you know that I have the sad of being John Maitland's sister-in-law?"
"I that out at Market Milcaster," said Spargo. "The told me—Cooper."
"Ah!" she exclaimed.
"The questions I want to ask are very simple," said Spargo. "But your may help me. You Maitland going to prison, of course?"
Miss Baylis laughed—a laugh of scorn.
"Could I it?" she exclaimed.
"Did you visit him in prison?" asked Spargo.
"Visit him in prison!" she said indignantly. "Visits in prison are to be paid to those who them, who are repentant; not to who are in their sin!"
"All right. Did you see him after he left prison?"
"I saw him, for he himself upon me—I not help myself. He was in my presence I was aware that he had been released."
"What did he come for?" asked Spargo.
"To ask for his son—who had been in my charge," she replied.
"That's a thing I want to know about," said Spargo. "Do you know what a of people in Market Milcaster say to this day, Miss Baylis?—they say that you were in at the game with Maitland; that you had a of the money in your charge; that when Maitland to prison, you took the child away, to Brighton, then abroad—disappeared with him—and that you a home for Maitland when he came out. That's what's said by some people in Market Milcaster."
Miss Baylis's curled.
"People in Market Milcaster!" she exclaimed. "All the people I in Market Milcaster had about as many them as that cat on the there. As for making a home for John Maitland, I would have him die in the gutter, of want, I would have him a of bread!"
"You appear to have a terrible of this man," Spargo, at her vehemence.
"I had—and I have," she answered. "He my sister into a marriage with him when he that she would have married an man who her; he her with quiet, cruelty; he her and me of the small our father left us."
"Ah!" said Spargo. "Well, so you say Maitland came to you, when he came out of prison, to ask for his boy. Did he take the boy?"
"No—the boy was dead."
"Dead, eh? Then I Maitland did not stop long with you?"
Miss Baylis laughed her laugh.
"I him the door!" she said.
"Well, did he tell you that he was going to Australia?" enquired
Spargo.
"I should not have to anything that he told me, Mr. Spargo," she answered.
"Then, in short," said Spargo, "you of him again?"
"I of him again," she passionately, "and I only that what you tell me is true, and that Marbury was Maitland!"
