"The other day we lost an entire shipment of arms--the Secret Service captured them on the way from the warehouse on South Street to the steamer which was to take them to New Orleans.Only once before had it happened, when my father did not understand all the things to conceal.Then he was frantic for a week.But this time he seems not to care.Ah, senores," she said, dropping her voice, "I fear there was some treachery there.""Treachery?" I asked."And have you any suspicions who might have played informer?"She hesitated."I may as well tell you just what I suspect.Ifear that the hold of Senora Mendez is somehow or other concerned with it all.I even have suspected that somehow she may be working in the pay of the government that she is a vampire, living on the secrets of the group who so trust her.I suspect anything, everybody--that she is poisoning his mind, perhaps even whispering into his ear some siren proposal of amnesty and his estate again, if he will but do what she asks.My poor father--Imust save him from himself if it is necessary.Argument has no effect with him.He merely answers that the senora is a talented and accomplished woman, and laughs a vacant laugh when I hint to him to beware.I hate her."The fiery animosity of her dark eyes boded ill, I felt, for the senora.But it flashed over me that perhaps, after all, the senora was not a traitress, but had simply been scheming to win the heart and hence the hacienda of the great land-owner, when he came into possession of his estate if the revolution proved successful.
"And finally," she concluded, keeping back the tears by an heroic effort, "last night he left our apartment, promising to return early in the evening.It is now twenty-four hours, and I have heard not a word from him.It is the first time in my life that we have ever been separated so long.""And you have no idea where he could have gone?" asked Craig.
"Only what I have learned from Senor Torreon, another member of the junta.Senor Torreon said this morning that he left the home of Senora Mendez last night about ten o'clock in company with my father.He says they parted at the subway, as they lived on different branches of the road.Professor Kennedy," she added, springing up and clasping her hands tightly in an appeal that was irrestible, "you know what steps to take to find him.I trust all to you--even the calling on the police, though I think it would be best if we could get along without them.Find my father, senores, and when we come into our own again you shall not regret that you befriended a lonely girl in a strange city, surrounded by intrigue and danger." There were tears in her eyes as she stood swaying before us.
The tenseness of the appeal was broken by the sharp ringing of the telephone bell.Kennedy quickly took down the receiver.
"Your maid wishes to speak to you," he said, handing the telephone to her.
Her face brightened with that nervous hope that springs in the human breast even in the blackest moments."I told her if any message came for me she might find me here," explained Miss Guerrero."Yes, Juanita, what is it--a message for me?"My Spanish was not quite good enough to catch more than a word here and there in the low conversation, but I could guess from the haggard look which overspread her delicate face that the news was not encouraging.
"Oh!" she cried, "this is terrible--terrible! What shall I do?
Why did I come here? I don't believe it.I don't believe it.""Don't believe what, Miss Guerrero?" asked Kennedy reassuringly.
"Trust me."
"That he stole the money--oh, what am I saying? You must not look for him--you must forget that I have been here.No, I don't believe it.""What money?" asked Kennedy, disregarding her appeal to drop the case."Remember, it may be better that we should know it now than the police later.We will respect your confidence.""The junta had been notified a few days ago, they say, that a large sum--five hundred thousand silver dollars--had been captured from the government and was on its way to New York to be melted up as bullion at the sub-treasury," she answered, repeating what she had heard over the telephone as if in a dream.
"Mr.Jameson referred to the rumour when he came in.I was interested, for I did not know the public had heard of it yet.
The junta has just announced that the money is missing.As soon as the ship docked in Brooklyn this morning an agent appeared with the proper credentials from my father and a guard, and they took the money away.It has not been heard of since--and they, have no word from my father."Her face was blanched as she realised what the situation was.
Here she was, setting people to run down her own father, if the suspicions of the other members of the junta were to be credited.
"You--you do not think my father--stole the money?" she faltered pitifully."Say you do not think so.""I think nothing yet," replied Kennedy in an even voice."The first thing to do is to find him--before the detectives of the junta do so."I felt a tinge--I must confess it--of jealousy as Kennedy stood beside her, clasping her hand in both of his and gazing earnestly down into the rich flush that now spread over her olive cheeks.
"Miss Guerrero," he said, "you may trust me implicitly.If your father is alive I will do all that a man can do to find him.Let me act--for the best.And," he added, wheeling quickly toward me, "I know Mr.Jameson will do likewise."I was pulled two ways at once.I believed in Miss Guerrero, and yet the flight of her father and the removal of the bullion swallowed up, as it were, instantly, without so much as a trace in New York--looked very black for him.And yet, as she placed her small hand tremblingly in mine to say good-bye, she won another knight to go forth and fight her battle for her, nor do Ithink that I am more than ordinarily susceptible, either.
When she had gone, I looked hopelessly at Kennedy.How could we find a missing man in a city of four million people, find him without the aid of the police--perhaps before the police could themselves find him?
