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.
Pages:
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332