It is too cruel,
monsieur, it is too cruel!"
Gabrielle's voice vibrated with indignation as she concluded, and Crewe
regarded her closely. He decided that her affection for Mrs. Holymead
was not simulated, and that it would be best to handle her from that
point of view.
"I am sorry," he said coldly, "but I do not see how I can help you."
"Monsieur," said the Frenchwoman, clasping her hands, "I entreat you not
to say so. It would be so easy for you to help--not me, but Madame."
"How?"
"You know this police agent. You also are a police agent, though so much
greater. Therefore you whisper just one little word in the ear of your
friend the police agent, and he will not bother Madame Holymead again. I
think you could do this. And if you need money to give to the police
agent, why, I have brought some." She fumbled nervously at her hand-bag.
"Stay," said Crewe. "What you ask is impossible. I have nothing whatever
to do with Scotland Yard. I could not interfere in their inquiries, even
if I wished to. They would only laugh at me."
Gabrielle's dark eyes showed her disappointment, but she made one more
effort to gain her end. She leant nearer to Crewe, and laid a persuasive
hand on his arm.
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