“Where’s Mr. Burke?” asked Kennedy. “Hasn’t he returned?”
“No, sir. And not a word from him yet. I don’t know where he can be. But we are handling the case at this end very well alone. I got your wire,” he nodded to me. “We haven’t missed Sanchez since he got back.”
“Then he didn’t make any attempt to get away,” I remarked, gratified that I had lost nothing by not following him on the earlier train. “Is Paquita back?”
“Yes; she came on the train just before yours.”
“What has she done—anything?”
Riley shook his head in perplexity.
“If it didn’t sound ridiculous,” he replied, slowly, “I would say that that fellow Sanchez was on the trail of Paquita more than we are.”
“How’s that?”
“Why, he follows her about like a dog. While we’re watching her he seems to be watching us.”
“Perhaps he’s part of her gang—her bodyguard, if there is such a thing as a gang,” I remarked.