It ain't good enough, I say."
"Good enough or not you'll have to go and you don't get any fivers out
of me to-night. Now pack sharp, or I'll know the reason why," and she
pointed towards the cab in a fashion that seemed to cow her companion,
for without another word he got into it.
In another moment the cab had turned, and he was gone, muttering
curses as he went.
The woman, who was none other than Mrs. d'Aubigne, /alias/ Edith
Jones, /alias/ the Tiger, turned and entered the house accompanied by
her servant, Ellen, and presently Mr. Quest heard the rustle of her
satin dress upon the stairs. He stepped back into the darkness of the
balcony and waited. She opened the door, entered, and closed it behind
her, and then, a little dazzled by the light, stood for some seconds
looking about for her visitor. She was a thin, tall woman, who might
have been any age between forty and fifty, with the wrecks of a very
fine agile-looking figure. Her face, which was plentifully bedaubed
with paint and powder, was sharp, fierce, and handsome, and crowned
with a mane of false yellow hair. Her eyes were cold and blue, her
lips thin and rather drawn, so as to show a double line of large and
gleaming teeth. She was dressed in a rich and hideous tight-fitting
gown of yellow satin, barred with black, and on her arms were long
bright yellow gloves.
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