He appeared to be satisfied, and it did not occur to him to inquire why else I should be interested.
“Yes,” he went on, slowly, “he has been watched. I have seen it myself. Several times there was a man who came in, Spanish-looking.”
“Did Mr. Maddox know it?” I inquired, more eager than ever.
Henri shook his head negatively. “Not until one day when La Paquita was talking to the man. Monsieur came in unexpectedly.”
The manager laughed a little to himself.
“Why do you laugh?” I asked. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” he returned. “It was not what happened. It was what she told him. So clever, too. She said it was a detective set to trail him by Mrs. Maddox, that she had flirted with the man and found out.”
“Then you do not think he was a detective?” I asked, puzzled.
“How should I know?” replied Henri, with another question. “It might have been. It might not have been. She is clever.”
“What did Maddox do?” I persisted. “Was he more cautious?”