“Oh yes, I caught enough of it,” returned the operative, confidently. “I can’t repeat exactly what was said, for it came to me only in snatches. They seemed to be arguing about something. Once he accused her of having been the ruin of his brother. She did not answer at first—just laughed sarcastically. But Shelby wasn’t content with that. Finally she turned on him.
“‘You say that I ruined Marshall Maddox,’ she cried. ‘His wife says I ruined him. Oh, Shelby, Shelby, he wasn’t a man who had reached the age of discretion, I suppose—was he? Oh, it’s always I who do things—never anybody else.’”
“Yes,” prompted Kennedy. “What else did she say?”
“She was bitter—angry. She stopped short. ‘Shelby Maddox,’ she cried, ‘you had better be careful. There is as much crime and hate and jealousy in every one of you as there is in Sing Sing. I tell you, be careful. I haven’t told all I know—yet. But I will say that wherever your house of hate goes and whomever it touches, it corrupts. Be careful how you touch me!’ Say, but Paquita was mad! That was when they turned back. I guess Shelby sort of realized that it was no use. They turned so suddenly that they almost caught me listening.”
“Anything else?” inquired Kennedy. “What did Shelby have to say about himself? Do you think he’s tangled up with her in any way?”
“I can’t tell. Most of what they said was spoken so low that it was impossible for me to hear even a word. I think both of them realized that they were being watched and listened to. It was only once in a while when their feelings got the better of them that they raised their voices, and then they pretty soon caught themselves and remembered.”
“Then it was no lovers’ meeting?” I asked.
“Hardly,” returned the detective, with a growl. “And yet she did not seem to be half as angry at Shelby as she did at the others. In fact, I think that a word from him would have smoothed out everything. But he wouldn’t say it. She tried hard to get him, too. That little dancer is playing a game—take it from me. And she’s artful, too. I wouldn’t want to be up against her—no, sir.”
There was something incongruous about the very idea of this bull-necked flatty and the dainty little adventuress—as though the hippopotamus might fear the peacock. I would have laughed had the business itself not been so important. What was her game? In fact, what was Shelby’s game? Each seemed to be playing a part.
“How about Mito?” I asked. “Have you seen him again since you were jiu-jitsued?”