"A joven, muy joven?" inquired Faquita.
"Yes, a mere lad," Mrs. Beltrán assured her.
Faquita seemed trying to remember. "There was one such here. He worked in one of the factories. The others called him José. Perhaps he might be the one for whom you look."
"Ask her if he had a violin," said Anita eagerly.
"Did he have a violin? Did he play upon it?" Mrs. Beltrán scanned the woman's face eagerly.
A sudden look of intelligence passed over it. "Ah, si, señora? I remember. It is he. He played the violin. He would play; we would dance. I remember. But he is no longer living here."
"Do you know where he went?"
"I cannot say. There are many changes in three years."
"Do you remember where he worked?"
The woman shook her head. "In one of the factories. I cannot say which one."