"Wait. I will tell her we are coming," and
he reached for the telephone.
"No," interrupted Kennedy. "I prefer to go with you unexpected.
Put down the telephone. Otherwise, I may as well notify my friend
Inspector O'Connor of the Central Office and go up with him."
Torreon let the receiver fall back in its socket, and I caught
just a glimpse of the look of hate and suspicion which crossed
his face as he turned toward Kennedy. When he spoke it was as
suavely as if he himself were the one who had planned this little
excursion.
"It shall be as you wish," he said, leading the way out to the
cross-town surface cars.
Senora Mendez received us politely, and we were ushered into a
large music-room in her apartment. There were several people
there already. They were seated in easy chairs about the room.
One of the ladies was playing on the piano as we entered. It was
a curious composition--very rhythmic, with a peculiar thread of
monotonous melody running through it.
The playing ceased, and all eyes were fixed on us. Kennedy kept
very close to Torreon, apparently for the purpose of frustrating
any attempt at a whispered conversation with the senora.
The guests rose and with courtly politeness bowed as Senora
Mendez presented two friends of Senor Torreon, Senor Kennedy and
Senor Jameson.
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