What were you doing down there? You went
down expecting a shipment of arms and saw a light overhead I
see--and suspecting something you entered with a policeman. You
heard him move across the floor above and fall heavily? All
right. Someone will be down directly. Ambulance surgeon has tried
everything, you say? No heart action, no breathing? Sure. Very
well. Let the body remain just where it is until I get down. Oh,
wait. How long ago did it happen? Fifteen minutes? All right.
Good-bye."
Such restoratives as we had found we applied faithfully. At last
we were rewarded by the first flutter of an eyelid. Then Miss
Guerrero gazed wildly about.
"He is dead," she moaned. "They have killed him. I know it. My
father is dead." Over and over she repeated: "He is dead. I shall
never see him again."
Vainly I tried to soothe her. What was there to say? There could
be no doubt about it. Torreon must have gone down directly after
we left Senora Mendez. He had seen a light in the loft, had
entered with a policeman--as a witness, he had told Craig over
the telephone--had heard Guerrero fall, and had sent for the
ambulance. How long Guerrero had been there he did not know, for
while members of the junta had been coming and going all day in
the office below none had gone up into the locked loft.
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