“But that isn’t answering my question,” Hawley insisted. “Have you any special reason for believing that the señora knows where her husband is?”
“Only my knowledge of human nature,” Cipriani replied. “As I said before, it is only logical to suppose that Felix has communicated with his wife since he ran away. I understand that they were a most devoted couple. I presume that when he fled they had an understanding that she was to join him later on; probably she has found it impossible to do so because of the close watch that Portiforo has kept on her.”
“How do you know that Portiforo has been keeping a close watch on her?” Hawley asked quickly.
Cipriani seemed discomfited by the question. He winced, and his ruddy face changed color; but his confusion quickly passed. “Of course, I do not know it,” he said suavely. “I only assume it. Is it not logical to suppose that the government of Baracoa would keep the wife of an absconding president under close surveillance? If you had ever lived in South America you would not have asked that question. There are more spies down there than there are people to spy on.”
He threw the stub of his cigarette into the sea, and took a gold case from his pocket to supply himself with another. “May I offer you one of these?” he said. “They are of my own manufacture. I am in the cigarette business in Buenos Aires.”
“No, thank you,” said Hawley. “I prefer a pipe.” He felt in his pocket. “That reminds me; I left my brier in my stateroom. I’ll go and get it. See you again, sir.”
The South American smiled and bowed, but as the Camera Chap walked away the smile abruptly left his face, and was replaced by an anxious expression. “We must find out more about that interesting young man,” he mused. “I don’t think he is going to Baracoa to paint landscapes.”
When Hawley reached his stateroom he made a disconcerting discovery. The room had been entered since he was there last, and somebody had been through his baggage. He knew that such was the case because certain articles were not as he had left them. Nothing was missing—a close inventory of his effects satisfied him as to that; but the contents of his trunk and his suit case were slightly disarranged.
With a frown he stepped out into the corridor, and went in search of the steward. “Didn’t happen to see anybody go in or out of my room during the last two hours, did you?” he inquired.
The man looked worried. “No, sir; I—I didn’t actually see anybody—go in or out,” he stammered. “But, now that you speak of it, I saw something that was rather queer.”