“Not guilty,” he said, with a laugh. “New York is my stamping ground. I merely happened to be in Washington for a couple of days.”
“I see. And you are now bound for——” Cipriani paused interrogatively.
“I am going as far as Puerto Cabero.”
Once more the other looked at him searchingly. “Might I inquire the object of your visit to Baracoa, if the question is not too personal?”
Hawley smiled. “I haven’t any great objection to answering it,” he said. “I am an artist, and I am going to make some pictures. I understand that the landscapes there are very fine.”
“An artist,” the other exclaimed. “That is interesting. I should very much like to see some of your work.”
“Perhaps some day I will show you,” said the Camera Chap, his eyes twinkling. “And now, having answered your question, may I ask you one in return?”
“I am at your service, señor.”
“I would like to know why you are so bitterly prejudiced against Señora Felix. She doesn’t strike me as being the sort of woman who deserves the unkind things you said about her.”
Cipriani shrugged his shoulders. “You are young, my friend. When you have lived as long as I you will not judge by appearances,” he said gravely.