Kennedy said nothing, but glanced at his watch. We had nearly three-quarters of an hour to wait yet until our pretty client returned.
"There's no use in wasting time or in trying to conceal our identity," he said finally, drawing a card from his pocket and handing it to the clerk. "Señora de Moche, please."
Much to my surprise, the Señora telephoned down that she would see us in her own sitting-room, and I followed Kennedy into the elevator.
Alfonso was out and the Señora was alone.
"I hope that you will pardon me," began Craig with an elaborate explanation, "but I have become interested in an opportunity to invest in a Peruvian venture and they tell me at the office that you are a Peruvian. I thought that perhaps you could advise me."
She looked at us keenly. I fancied that she detected the subterfuge, yet she did not try to avoid us. On closer view, her eyes were really remarkable—those of a woman endowed with an abundance of health and energy—eyes that were full of what the old phrenologists used to call amativeness, denoting a nature capable of intense passion, whether of love or hate. Yet I confess that I could not find anything especially abnormal about them, as I had about Mendoza's.
"I suppose you mean that scheme of Señor Mendoza and his friend, Mr. Lockwood," she returned, speaking rapidly. "Let me tell you about it. You may know that the Chimu tribes in the north were the wealthiest at the time of the coming of the Spaniards. Well, they had a custom of burying with their dead all their movable property. Sometimes a common grave or huaca was given to many. That would become a cache of treasure.
"Back in the seventeenth century," she continued, leaning forward eagerly as she talked, "a Spaniard opened a Chimu huaca and found gold that is said to have been worth a million dollars. An Indian told him of it. After he had shown him the treasure, the Indian told the Spaniard that he had given him only the little fish, the peje chica, but that some day he would give him the big fish, the peje grande.
"The Indian died," she went on solemnly, flashing at Craig a glance from her wonderful eyes. "He was poisoned by the other members of his tribe." She paused, then flashed, "That is my tribe, my family."
She paused a moment. "The big fish is still a secret—or at least it was until they got it from my brother, to whom the tradition had been intrusted. They drove him crazy—until he talked. Then, after he had told the secret, and lost his mind, he threw himself one day into Lake Titicaca."