‘And what were you to do in Ostend? What were your instructions from this husband of yours?’ Miss Spencer’s head dropped on her arms on the table which separated her from Nella, and she appeared to sob violently. ‘Have pity on me,’ she murmured, ‘I can’t tell you any more.’ ‘Why?’ ‘He’d kill me if he knew.’ ‘You’re wandering from the subject,’ observed Nella coldly. ‘This is the last time I shall warn you. Let me tell you plainly I’ve got the best reasons for being desperate, and if anything happens to you I shall say I did it in self-defence. Now, what were you to do in Ostend?’ ‘I shall die for this anyhow,’ whined Miss Spencer, and then, with a sort of fierce despair, ‘I had to keep watch on Prince Eugen.’ ‘Where? In this house?’ Miss Spencer nodded, and, looking up, Nella could see the traces of tears in her face. ‘Then Prince Eugen was a prisoner? Some one had captured him at the instigation of Jules?’ ‘Yes, if you must have it.’ ‘Why was it necessary for you specially to come to Ostend?’ ‘Oh! Tom trusts me. You see, I know Ostend. Before I took that place at the Grand Babylon I had travelled over Europe, and Tom knew that I knew a thing or two.’ ‘Why did you take the place at the Grand Babylon?’ ‘Because Tom told me to. He said I should be useful to him there.’ ‘Is your husband an Anarchist, or something of that kind, Miss Spencer?’ ‘I don’t know. I’d tell you in a minute if I knew. But he’s one of those that keep themselves to themselves.’ ‘Do you know if he has ever committed a murder?’ ‘Never!’ said Miss Spencer, with righteous repudiation of the mere idea. ‘But Mr Dimmock was murdered. He was poisoned. If he had not been poisoned why was his body stolen? It must have been stolen to prevent inquiry, to hide traces. Tell me about that.’ ‘I take my dying oath,’ said Miss Spencer, standing up a little way from the table, ‘I take my dying oath I didn’t know Mr Dimmock was dead till I saw it in the newspaper.’ ‘You swear you had no suspicion of it?’ ‘I swear I hadn’t.’ Nella was inclined to believe the statement. The woman and the girl looked at each other in the tawdry, frowsy, lamp-lit room. Miss Spencer nervously patted her yellow hair into shape, as if gradually recovering her composure and equanimity. The whole affair seemed like a dream to Nella, a disturbing, sinister nightmare. She was a little uncertain what to say. She felt that she had not yet got hold of any very definite information. ‘Where is Prince Eugen now?’ she asked at length. ‘I don’t know, miss.’ ‘He isn’t in this house?’ ‘No, miss.’ ‘Ah! We will see presently.’ ‘They took him away, Miss Racksole.’ ‘Who took him away? Some of your husband’s friends?’ ‘Some of his--acquaintances.’ ‘Then there is a gang of you?’ ‘A gang of us--a gang! I don’t know what you mean,’ Miss Spencer quavered.