XII
THE EVIL EYE
Completely at sea as a result of the unexpected revelation of theshoe-prints we had found in the Museum, and with suspicions nowthoroughly aroused against Lockwood, I accompanied Kennedy to keep ourappointment with the Senorita at the Prince Edward Albert.
We were purposely a bit early, in order to meet Inez, so that she wouldnot have to be alone with the Senora, and we sat down in the lobby in alittle angle from which we could look into the tea room.
We had not been sitting there very long when Kennedy called myattention to Whitney, who had just come in. Almost at the same time hecaught sight of us, and walked over.
"I've been thinking a good deal of your visit to me just now," hebegan, seating himself beside us. "Perhaps I should not have said whatI did about your friend Norton. But I couldn't help it. I guess youknow something about that dagger he lost, don't you?"
"I have heard of the 'great fish' and the 'little fish' and the 'curseof Mansiche,'" replied Kennedy, "if that is what you mean. Somehow theInca dagger seems to have been mixed up with them."
"Yes--with the peje grande, I believe," went on Whitney.
Beneath his exterior of studied calm I could see that he was very muchexcited. If I had not already noted a peculiar physical condition inhim, I might have thought he had stopped in the cafe with some friendstoo long. But his eyes were not those of a man who has had too much todrink.
Just then Senorita Mendoza entered, and Kennedy rose and went forwardto greet her. She saw Whitney, and flashed an inquiring glance at us.
"We were waiting for Senorita Mendoza," explained Kennedy to bothWhitney and her, "when Mr. Whitney happened along. I don't see Senorade Moche in the tea room. Perhaps we may as well sit out here in thecorridor until she comes."
It was evidently his desire to see how Whitney and Inez would act, forthis was the first time we had ever seen them together.
"We were talking of the treasure," resumed Whitney, omitting to mentionthe dagger. "Kennedy, we are not the only ones who have sought the pejegrande, or rather are seeking it. But we are, I believe, the only oneswho are seeking it in the right place, and," he added, leaning overconfidentially, "your father, Senorita, was the only one who could havegot the concession, the monopoly, from the government to seek in what Iam convinced will be the right place. Others have found the 'littlefish.' We shall find the 'big fish.'"
He had raised his voice from the whisper, and I caught Inez lookinganxiously at Kennedy, as much as to say, "You see? He is like the rest.His mind is full of only one subject."
"We shall find it, too," he continued, still speaking in a high-pitchedkey, "no matter what obstacles man or devil put in our way. It shall beours--for a simple piece of engineering--ours! The curse ofMansiche--pouf!"
He snapped his fingers defiantly as he said it. There was an air ofbravado about his manner. I could not help feeling that perhaps in hisheart he was not so sure of himself as he would have others think.
I watched him closely, and could see that he had suddenly become evenmore excited than before. It was as though some diabolical force hadtaken possession of his brain, and he fought it off, but was unable toconquer.
Kennedy followed the staring glance of Whitney's eyes, which seemedalmost to pop out of his head, as though he were suffering from thedisease exophthalmic goitre. I looked also. Senora de Moche had comefrom the elevator, accompanied by Alfonso, and was walking slowly downthe corridor. As she looked to the right and left, she had caught sightof our little group, all except Whitney, with our backs toward her. Shewas now looking fixedly in our direction, paying no attention toanything else.
Whitney was a study. I wondered what could be the relations betweenthese two, the frankly voluptuous woman and the calculatingfull-blooded man. Whitney, for his part, seemed almost fascinated byher gaze. He rose as she bowed, and, for a moment, I thought that hewas going over to speak to her, as if drawn by that intangibleattraction which Poe has so cleverly expressed in his "Imp of thePerverse." For, clearly, one who talked as Whitney had just beentalking would have to be on his guard with that woman. Instead,however, he returned her nod and stood still, while Kennedy bowed at adistance and signalled to her that we would be in the tea room directly.
I glanced up in time to see the anxious look on the face of Inez changemomentarily into a flash of hatred toward the Senora.
At the same moment Alfonso, who was on the other side of his mother,turned from looking at a newsstand which had attracted his attentionand caught sight of us. There was no mistaking the ardent glance whichhe directed at the fair Peruvian at my side. I fancied, too, that herface softened a bit. It was only for a moment, and then Inez resumedher normal composure.
"I won't detain you any longer," remarked Whitney. "Somehow, when Istart to talk about my--our plans down there at Truxillo I could go onall night. It is marvellous, marvellous. We haven't any idea of whatthe future holds in store. No one else in all this big city hasanything like the prospect which is before us. Gradually we are gettingeverything into shape. When we are ready to go ahead, it will be thesensation of Wall Street--and, believe me, it takes much to arouse theStreet."
He may have been talking wildly, but it was worth while to listen tohim. For, whatever else he was, Whitney was one of the most persuasivepromoters of the day. More than that, I could well imagine how any onepossessed of an imagination susceptible to the influence of mystery andtradition would succumb to the glittering charm of the magic words,peje chica, and feel all the gold-hunter's enthusiasm when Whitneybrought him into the atmosphere of the peje grande. As he talked,visions of hidden treasure seemed to throw a glamour over everything.One saw golden.
"You will excuse us?" apologized Kennedy, taking Inez by the arm. "Ifyou are about, Mr. Whitney, I shall stop to chat with you again on theway out."
"Remember--she is a very remarkable woman," said Whitney, as we lefthim and started for the tea room.
His tone was not exactly one of warning, yet it seemed to have cost himan effort to say it. I could not reconcile it with any other idea thanthat he was trying to use her in his own plans, but was still in doubtof the outcome.
We parted from him and entered the darkened tea room, with its wickertables and chairs, and soft lights, glowing pinkly, to simulate nightin the broad light of afternoon outside. A fountain splashed soothinglyin the centre. Everything was done to lend to the place an exotic airof romance.
Alfonso and his mother had chosen a far corner, deeper than the rest inthe shadows, where two wicker settees were drawn up about a table,effectually cutting off inquisitive eyes and ears.
Alfonso rose as we approached and bowed deeply. I could not helpwatching the two women as they greeted each other.
"Won't you be seated?" he asked, pulling around one of the wickerchairs.
It was then that I saw how he had contrived to sit next to Inez, whileKennedy manoeuvred to sit on the end, where he could observe them allbest.
It was a rather delicate situation, and I wondered how Kennedy wouldhandle it, for, although Alfonso had done the inviting, it was reallyCraig who was responsible for allowing Inez to accept. The Senoraseemed to recognize it, also, for, although she talked to Inez, it wasplain she had him in mind.
"I have heard from Alfonso about the cruel death of your father," shebegan, in a softened tone, "and I haven't had a chance to tell you howdeeply I sympathize with you. Of course, I am a much older woman thanyou, have seen much more trouble. But I know that never in life dotroubles seem keener than when life is young. And yours has been soharsh. I could not let it pass without an opportunity to tell you howdeeply I feel."
She said it with an air of sincerity that was very convincing, soconvincing, in fact, that it shook for the moment the long chain ofsuspicion that I had been forging both of her and her son. Could she besuch a heartless woman as to play on the very heartstrings of one whomshe had wronged? I was shaken, moreover, by the late discovery byKennedy of the foot-prints.
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p; The Senorita murmured her thanks for the condolences in a broken voice.It was evident that whatever enmity she bore against the Senora it wasnot that of suspicion that she was the cause of her father's death.
"I can sympathize with you the more deeply," she went on, "because onlylately I have lost a very dear brother myself. Already I have toldProfessor Kennedy something about it. It was a matter of which I felt Imust speak to you, for it may concern you, in the venture in which Mr.Lockwood and your father were associated, and into which now Mr.Whitney has entered."
Inez said nothing, and Craig bowed, as though he, too, wished her to goon.
"It is about the 'big fish' and the concession which your father hasobtained from the government to search for it."
The Senorita started and grew a bit pale at the reference, but sheseemed to realize that it was something she ought to hear, and steeledherself to it.
"Yes," she murmured, "I understand."
"As you no doubt know," resumed the Senora, "no one has had the secretof the hiding-place. It has been by mere tradition that they were goingto dig. That secret, you may know or may not know now, was in realitycontained in the inscriptions on an old Inca dagger."
Inez shuddered at the mention of the weapon, a shudder that was notlost on the Senora.
"I have already told Professor Kennedy that both the tradition and thedagger were handed down in my own family, coming at last to my brother.As I said, I don't know how it happened, but somehow he seemed to begetting crazy, until he talked, and the dagger was stolen from him. Itcame finally into Professor Norton's hands, from whom it was in turnstolen."
She looked at Inez searchingly, as if to discover just what she knew. Iwondered whether the Senora suspected the presence of Lockwood'sfootprints in the sarcophagus in the Museum--what she would do if shedid.
"After he lost it," she continued reminiscently, "my brother threwhimself one day into Lake Titicaca. Everywhere the trail of thatdagger, of the secret of the Gold of the Gods has been stained byblood. To-day the world scoffs at curses. But surely that gold must becursed. It has been cursed for us and ours."
She spoke bitterly; yet might she not mean that the loss of the dagger,the secret, was a curse, too?
"There is one other thing I wish to say, and then I will be through.Far back, when your ancestors came into the country of mine, anancestor of your father lost his life over the treasure. It seems as ifthere were a strange fatality over it, as if the events of to-day werebut living over the events of yesterday. It is something that we cannotescape--fate."
She paused a moment, then added, "Yet it might be possible that thecurse could be removed if somehow we, who were against each other then,might forget and be for each other now."
"But Senorita Mendoza has not the dagger," put in Kennedy, watching herface keenly, to read the effect of his remark. "She has no idea whereit may be."
"Then it is pure tradition on which Mr. Lockwood and Mr. Whitney dependin their search for the treasure?" flashed back the Senora quickly.
Kennedy did not know, but he did not confess it. "Until we knowdifferently, we must take their word for it," he evaded.
"It was not that that I meant, however," replied Senora de Moche. "Imeant that we might stop the curse by ceasing to hunt for the treasure.It has never done any one good; it never will. Why tempt fate, then?Why not pause before it is too late?"
I could not quite catch the secondary implication of her plan. Did itmean that the treasure would then be left for her family? Or was shehinting at Inez accepting Alfonso's suit? Somehow I could not take theSenora at her face value. I constantly felt that there was an ulteriormotive back of her actions and words.
I saw Craig watching the young man's face, and followed his eyes. Therewas no doubt of how he took the remark. He was gazing ardently at Inez.If there had ever been any doubt of his feelings, which, of course,there had not, this would have settled it.
"One thing more," added the Senora, as though she had had anafterthought, "and that is about Mr. Lockwood and Mr. Whitney. Let meask you to think it over. Suppose they have not the dagger. Then aretheir chances better than others? And if they have"--she paused toemphasize it--"what does that mean?"
Kennedy had turned his attention to the Senorita. It was evident thatthe dilemma proposed by de Moche was not without weight. She had nowcoloured a flaming red. The woman had struck her in a vital spot.
"Mr. Lockwood is not here to defend himself," Inez said quietly. "Iwill not have him attacked by innuendo."
She had risen. Neither the ardour of Alfonso nor the seeds of doubt ofthe Senora had shaken her faith. It was a test that Kennedy evidentlywas glad to have witnessed. For some day she might learn the truthabout the foot-prints. He understood her character better. The Senora,too, had learned that if she were to bring pressure on the girl shemight break her, but she would not bend.
Without another word Inez, scarcely bowing stiffly, moved out of thetea room, and we followed, leaving the mother and son there, baffled.
"I hope you will pardon me for allowing you to come here," saidKennedy, in a low voice. "I did it because there are certain thingsthat you ought to hear. It was in fairness to you. I would not have youdelude yourself about Mr. Whitney, about--Mr. Lockwood, even. I wantyou to feel that, no matter what you hear or see, you can come to meand know that I will tell you the truth. It may hurt, but it will bebest."
I thought he was preparing the way for a revelation about thefoot-prints, but he said nothing more.
"Oh, that woman!" she exclaimed, as if to change the subject. "I do notknow, I cannot say, why she affects me so. I saw a change in my father,when he knew her. I have told you how he was, how sometimes I thoughthe was mad. Did you notice a change in Mr. Whitney, or haven't youknown him long enough? And lately I have fancied that I see the samesort of change beginning in Mr. Lockwood. At times they become soexcited, their eyes seem staring, as if some fever were wasting themaway. Father seemed to see strange visions, and hear voices, was worsewhen he was alone than when he was in a crowd. Oh, what is it? I couldthink of nothing else, not even what she was saying, all the time I waswith her."
"Then you fear that in some way she may be connected with these strangechanges?" asked Kennedy.
"I don't know," she temporized; but the tone of her answer wassufficient to convey the impression that in her heart she did suspectsomething, she knew not what.
"Oh, Professor Kennedy," she cried finally, "can't you see it?Sometimes--when she looks out of those eyes of hers--she almost makespeople do as she pleases."
We had come to the taxicab stand before the hotel, and Kennedy hadalready beckoned to a cab to take her home.
As he handed her in she turned with a little shiver.
"Don't please, think me foolish," she added, with bated breath, "butoften I fear that it is, as we call it, the mal de ojo--the evil eye!"