Of one thing I was certain.Torreon was an ardent admirer of the beautiful senora, equally ardent with Guerrero.Was he simply a jealous suitor, angry at his rival, and now glad that he was out of the way? Where had Guerrero gone The question was still unanswered.
Absorbed in these reveries, I did not notice particularly where Kennedy was hurrying me.In fact, finding no plausible answer to my speculations and knowing that it was useless to question Kennedy at this stage of his inquiry, I did not for the moment care where we went but allowed him to take the lead.
We entered one of the fine apartments on the drive and rode up in the elevator.A door opened and, with a start, I found myself in the presence of Miss Guerrero again.The questioning look on her face recalled the object of our search, and its ill success so far.Why had Kennedy come back with so little to report?
"Have you heard anything" she asked eagerly.
"Not directly," replied Kennedy."But I have a clue, at least.Ibelieve that Torreon knows where your father is and will let you know any moment now.It is to his interest to clear himself before this scandal about the money becomes generally known.
Would you allow me to search through your father's desk?"For some moments Kennedy rummaged through the drawers and pigeonholes, silently.
"Where does the junta keep its arms stored--not in the meeting -place on South Street does it?" asked Kennedy at length.
"Not exactly; that would be a little too risky," she replied."Ibelieve they have a loft above the office, hired in someone else's name and not connected with the place down-stairs at all.
My father and Senor Torreon are the only ones who have the keys.
Why do you ask?"
"I ask," replied Craig, "because.I was wondering whether there might not be something that would take him down to South Street last night.It is the only place I can think of his going to at such a late hour, unless he has gone out of town.If we do not hear from Torreon soon I think I will try what.I can find down there.Ah, what is this?"Kennedy drew forth a little silver box and opened it.Inside reposed a dozen mescal buttons.
We both looked quickly at Miss Guerrero, but it was quite evident that she was unacquainted with them.
She was about to ask what Kennedy had found when the telephone rang and the maid announced that Miss Guerrero was wanted by Senor Torreon.
A smile of gratification flitted over Kennedy's face as he leaned over to me and whispered: "It is evident that Torreon is anxious to clear himself.I'll wager he has done some rapid hustling since we left him.""Perhaps this is some word about my father at last," murmured Miss Guerrero as she nervously hurried to the telephone, and answered, "Yes, this is Senorita Guerrero, Senor Torreon.You are at the office of the junta? Yes, yes, you have word from my father you went down there to-night expecting some guns to be delivered?--and you found him there--up-stairs in the loft--ill, did you say? --unconscious?"In an instant her face was drawn and pale, and the receiver fell clattering to the hard-wood floor from her nerveless fingers.
"He is dead!" she gasped as she swayed backward and I caught her.
With Kennedy's help I carried her, limp and unconscious, across the room, and placed her in a deep armchair.I stood at her side, but for the moment could only look on helplessly, blankly at the now stony beauty of her face.
"Some water, Juanita, quick!" I cried as soon as I had recovered from the shock."Have you any smelling-salts or anything of that sort? Perhaps you can find a little brandy.Hurry."While we were making her comfortable the telephone continued to tinkle.
"This is Kennedy," I heard Craig say, as Juanita came hurrying in with water, smelling-salts, and brandy."You fool.She fainted.
Why couldn't you break it to her gently? What's that address on South Street? You found him over the junta meeting-place in a loft? Yes, I understand.What were you doing down there? You went down expecting a shipment of arms and saw a light overhead Isee--and suspecting something you entered with a policeman.You heard him move across the floor above and fall heavily? All right.Someone will be down directly.Ambulance surgeon has tried everything, you say? No heart action, no breathing? Sure.Very well.Let the body remain just where it is until I get down.Oh, wait.How long ago did it happen? Fifteen minutes? All right.
Good-bye."
Such restoratives as we had found we applied faithfully.At last we were rewarded by the first flutter of an eyelid.Then Miss Guerrero gazed wildly about.
"He is dead," she moaned."They have killed him.I know it.My father is dead." Over and over she repeated: "He is dead.I shall never see him again."Vainly I tried to soothe her.What was there to say? There could be no doubt about it.Torreon must have gone down directly after we left Senora Mendez.He had seen a light in the loft, had entered with a policeman--as a witness, he had told Craig over the telephone --had heard Guerrero fall, and had sent for the ambulance.How long Guerrero had been there he did not know, for while members of the junta had been coming and going all day in the office below none had gone up into the locked loft.
Kennedy with rare skill calmed Miss Guerrero's dry-eyed hysteria into a gentle rain of tears, which relieved her overwrought feelings.We silently withdrew, leaving the two women, mistress and servant, weeping.
"Craig," I asked when we had gained the street, "what do you make of it? We must lose no time.Arrest this Mendez woman before she has a chance to escape.""Not so fast, Walter," he cautioned as we spun along in a taxicab."Our case isn't very complete against anybody yet.""But it looks black for Guerrero," I admitted."Dead men tell no tales even to clear themselves.""It all depends on speed now," he answered laconically.
