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Updated: September 26, 2025
"Not a word of this has been breathed to her yet. We are a long way from fixing the guilt of the murder; inference is one thing, fact another. We must have facts. And the facts I want, which you may be able to get, relate to the strange actions of the de Moches." Norton scanned Kennedy's face for some hint of what was back of the remark. But there was nothing there.
Fortunately, from our vantage point, we could see without being in any danger of being seen. "There's Whitney," I heard Craig mutter under his breath. I looked up and saw the promoter enter from his car. At almost the same instant the roving eyes of the Senora seemed to catch sight of him. He came over and spoke to the de Moches, standing with them several minutes.
But the relations of the de Moches with Whitney had been so close that I no more trusted him than I did Lockwood. And if I could not make out Lockwood, a man at least of our own race and education, how could I expect to fathom Alfonso? It seemed, then, to rest with Kennedy and myself. At least so Craig appraised the situation.
"Did he tell her that?" "I am supposing that he did," repeated Craig, declining to place himself in a position which might lead to disclosing how he found out. "Then I should say that he was a great deal cleverer than I gave him credit for being," returned Norton. "Well, it's done now, and can't be undone. Have you found out anything about the de Moches?" "Not very much, I must admit.
"And you didn't care, as long as he had it," added Craig, then, turning to the de Moches, "And what is your tale?" Senora de Moche did not lose her self-possession for an instant. "We received the same message. When you called, I thought it would be best for Alfonso to go alone, so I telephoned and caught him at the garage and when my train arrived here, he was waiting."
I shall let you know of anything I find out from the de Moches. I think you are getting on remarkably." Norton left us, his face much brighter than it had been when we met him at the door.
"Inez?" they repeated blankly. Kennedy faced them squarely. "Come, now. Where is she? This is a show-down. You may as well lay your cards on the table. Where is she what have you done with her?" The de Moches looked at Lockwood and he looked at them, but neither spoke for a moment. "Walter," ordered Kennedy, "there's the telephone. Get the managing editor of the Star and tell him where we are.
Kennedy said nothing, and Norton continued, growing more excited: "Everybody's been talking to Whitney, telling him all kinds of things Lockwood, the de Moches, heaven knows who else. Why don't they come out and face me? I've a notion to try to carry on my work independently. Nothing plays hob with scholarship like money.
That, however, could not account for her attitude. At least with her the prejudice did not extend to Alfonso. "Senora de Moche is a friend of Mr. Whitney?" queried Kennedy. "Yes, I believe she has placed some of her affairs in his hands. The de Moches live at the Prince Edward Albert Hotel, and Mr. Whitney lives there, too. I suppose they see more or less of each other." "H-m," mused Kennedy.
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