"There is a woman at the bottom of it, of course," said Sir Richard
Airey. "These papers prove it," putting his finger upon the bundle
Shervinton had seized at the Maltese baker's.
"Two women, unless I'm much mistaken," replied the provost-marshal,
and he went on to tell of Mariquita's devotion.
"Devotion, indeed," said the general, "but to no purpose, I fear. We
have little hope of saving McKay. Lord Raglan is in despair. Prince
Gortschakoff refuses distinctly to surrender the poor fellow, or spare
his life."
"One woman's devotion outmatched by another's reckless greed. But,
should McKay be sacrificed, she--his murderess--must not escape," said
Blythe, hotly.
"Ah! but how shall we lay hands on her? Who knows her?" asked Sir
Richard.
"One of my officers--Hyde. We shall get her through him," and Blythe
repeated what the old quartermaster had said that morning.
"Yes, he evidently knows. He would be the best man to pursue her--to
bring her to judgment for her villanies. There is enough in these
papers to convict her. But he could hardly leave the Crimea just now."
"He happens at this moment to be going down to Scutari, on sick leave:
he could easily go on."
"Is he strong enough?"
"He is gaining strength daily; it is only a wounded arm."
"That will be best.
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