Kennedy thanked him and together we rode down in the next elevator, parting with Page at the hotel entrance.
It was still early in the evening, and Kennedy had no intention now of wasting a moment. He beckoned for a cab and directed the man to drive immediately to the Pan-America.
This time Teresa de Leon was plainly prepared for a visit, though I am not sure that she was prepared to receive two visitors.
"I believe you were acquainted with Senior Barrios, who died to-night?" opened Kennedy, after I had introduced him.
"He was acquainted with me," she corrected, with a purr in her voice that suggested claws.
"You were not married to him," shot out Kennedy; then before she could reply, "nor even engaged."
"He had known me a long time. We were intimate—"
"Friends," interrupted Kennedy, leaving no doubt as to the meaning of his emphasis.
She colored. It was evident that, at least to her, it was more than friendship.
"Senor Sandoval says," romanced Kennedy, in true detective style, "that you wrote—"