he moment Don Luis went out. Her son also
seemed restive. He was a good-looking fellow, with high forehead, nose
slightly aquiline, chin and mouth firm, in fact the whole face refined
and intellectual, though tinged with melancholy.

We strolled down the wide veranda, and as we passed the woman and her
son I was conscious of that strange feeling (which psychologists tell
us, however, has no foundation) of being stared at from behind.

Kennedy turned suddenly and again we passed, just in time to catch in a
low tone from the young man, "Yes, I have seen him at the University.
Everyone knows that he--"

The rest was lost.

It was quite evident now that they thought we were interested in them.
There was, then, no use in our watching them further. Indeed, when we
turned again, we found that the Senora and Alfonso had risen, gone
through the long, open window inside, and were making their way slowly
to the elevator.

The door of the elevator had scarcely closed when Kennedy turned on his
heel and quickly made his way back to the alcove where we had been
sitting. Lying about on the ash tray on a little wicker table were
several of Mendoza's half-burned cigarettes. We sat down a moment and,
after a hasty glance around, Craig gathered them up and folded them in a
piece of paper.

Leisurely Kennedy strolled over to the desk, and, as guests in a summer
hotel will do, looked over the register. The Mendozas, father and
daughter, were registered in rooms 810 and 812, a suite on the eighth
floor. Lockwood was across the hall in 811.

Turning the pages, Kennedy paused, then nudged me. Senora de Moche and
Senor Alfonso de Moche were on the same floor in 839 and 841, just
around an "L" in the hall. The two parties must meet frequently not only
downstairs in the inn, but in the corridors and elevators.

Kennedy said nothing, but glanced at his watch. We had nearly
three-quarters of an hour to wait yet until our pretty client returned.

"There's no use in wasting time or in trying to conceal our identity,"
he said finally, drawing a card from his pocket and handing it to the
clerk. "Senora de Moche, please."

Much to my surprise, the Senora telephoned down that she would see us in
her own sitting-room, and I followed Kennedy into the elevator.

Alfonso was out and the Senora was alone.

"I hope that you will pardon me," began Craig with an elaborate
explanation, "but I have become interested in an opportunity to invest
in a