"I think he is on the right track now," I encouraged. "Has anything happened here? Remember—it is quite as important that you should tell him all as it is for him to tell you."
She looked at me a moment, then drew from a fold of her waist a yellow paper. It was a telegram. I took it and read:
Beware of Teresa de Leon, Hotel Pan-America.
A FRIEND.
"You know her?" I asked, folding the telegram, but not returning it.
Eulalie looked at me frankly and shook her head. "I have no idea who she is."
"Or of who sent the telegram?"
"None at all."
"When did you receive it?"
"Only a few minutes ago."