"I drove to the apartment," she cried, greatly excited and sympathetic, "but they told me you had gone out. Oh, I was glad to hear it. Then I knew it wasn't so serious. For, somehow, I feel guilty about it. It never would have happened if you hadn't met me."
"I'm sure it's worth more than it cost," I replied gallantly.
She turned toward Kennedy. "I'm positively frightened," she exclaimed. "First they direct their attacks against my father—then against me—now against you. What will it be next? Oh—it is that curse—it is that curse!"
"Never fear," encouraged Kennedy, "we'll get you out—we'll get all of us out, now, I should say. It's just because they are so desperate that we have these things. As long as there is nothing to fear a criminal will lie low. When he gets scared he does things. And it's when he does things that he begins to betray himself."
She shuddered. "I feel as though I was surrounded by enemies," she murmured. "It is as if an unseen evil power was watching over me all the time—and mocking me—striking down those I love and trust. Where will it end?"
Kennedy tried his best to soothe her, but it was evident that the attack on us could not have had more effect, if it had been levelled direct at her.
"Please, Senorita," he pleaded, "stand firm. We are going to win. Don't give in. The Mendozas are not the kind to stop defeated."
She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears.
"It was my father's way," she choked back her emotion. "How could you, a stranger, know?"
"I didn't know," returned Kennedy. "I gathered it from his face. It is also his daughter's way."