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And then came the shot, a revolver no doubt but sounding louder as it echoed through the rooms. Betty started up in terror, both hands grasping Kendric's arm. His own hand had gone its swift way to the gun slung under his coat. They waited a moment, both tense. Then Jim patted her hand reassuringly, removed it from his sleeve and said quietly: "Wait a second. I'll see which one it was."
Meanwhile Ortega's place had been doing an increasing business. Now there was desultory playing at several tables where men were placing their bets at poker, at seven-and-a-half and at roulette; the faro layout would be offering its invitation in a moment; there was a game of dice in progress. Kendric's companions moved about from table to table laughing, making small bets or merely watching.
"If you'd been down in Sonora lately, Jim, you'd know all about Pansy Blossom. She sings rather well, I hear, and dances. It would seem that she has the makings of a highly successful actress," he concluded meaningly. Kendric stared at him. "You mean that Betty Gordon here is some sort of an adventuress?" he demanded. For answer Bruce shrugged elaborately and returned Kendric's stare.
From somewhere in the room a parrot which he had not seen until now and which had no doubt been released by one of her low-browed henchmen behind the curtains, flew by Kendric's head and perched balancing upon an arm of her chair. Idly she put out her hand, stroking the bright feathers.
He had heard a rumor concerning Ruiz Rios, long ago, half forgotten. Certain wild deeds laid to the Mexican's door had brought forth the insinuation that he was a little mad. Zoraida had claimed kinship with him. At any rate, to Kendric's matter-of-fact way of thinking, here was further clap-trap that might well have been the result of a mad mind working extravagantly. The room was empty.
As she stood in the door and he looked over her shoulder, six old men, evidently awaiting her arrival, bent themselves almost to the floor in a reverential posture that expressed greeting and adoration. Again Kendric's fancies were drawn back into ancient Mexico.
"Forget it, if you can, and take a passenger back to the States with you. Or tell me to go to hell and I guess I'll tuck my tail between my legs and go." Kendric's hand went out impulsively and he cried with great heartiness: "Forget it, boy. What about Barlow?" "Barlow's like a crazy man," said Bruce. He spoke quickly as though eager to get through with what he had to say.
And we beat it out into the Pacific and turn south until we come to a certain land maybe you can remember having heard me tell about. And there It's there, Headlong, old mate!" Kendric's eyes shone while Barlow spoke, but then they always shone when a man hinted of such things as he knew lay in the sailorman's mind. But at the end he shook his head.
"Oh, well," was Kendric's inward comment. "The devil take the lot of them." Zoraida did not keep them waiting. One of the servants, as though he had had some signal, threw open still another door and Zoraida, a splendid, vivid and vital Zoraida, burst upon their sight. She was gowned as though she had on the instant stepped from a fashionable Paris salon.
Such an act he deemed entirely germane to Zoraida's dark methods. "Señor Jim does not care to play?" she asked quietly. Had not Betty chosen to look at him then Kendric's answer would have been a blunt, "No." But Betty did look, and the glance was as eloquent as a gush of stinging words.
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