Virginia nodded gloomily. “My father was asking me about you this morning,” she announced. “He wanted to know how many times I had met you. He also evinced painful curiosity as to where I go, and whom I meet, when I take my daily canter. I could tell from his mode of questioning that he knows about these meetings.”
“Who could have told him?” said the Camera Chap. “I have always been careful when coming out here to make sure that I was not shadowed.”
“So have I,” returned the girl, with a rueful smile. “Nevertheless, we have evidently been spied upon. I have a shrewd suspicion that it was Mr. Gale who told my father. He and dad were talking very confidentially together as I came into the room this morning, and I’m almost positive that I heard your name mentioned.”
Hawley frowned. “I guess that is very probable,” he said. “I’ve run into Gale quite often during the past few days, and I’ve had reason to believe that the encounters weren’t accidental—that he’s been paying me the compliment of watching me very closely. I hope he doesn’t suspect the reasons for our meeting, Miss Throgmorton. He’s the last man on earth that I would want to have know what I am doing here.”
Virginia sighed. “My great fear is that Portiforo, too, has learned about these meetings of ours,” she said anxiously. “If so, I am afraid that he’ll put two and two together. They know that I visit Señora Felix, and they might easily assume from the fact that you and I meet so often that your presence in Baracoa is in relation to her cause. That, of course, would be fatal to your chances of success—and,” she added, with a shudder, “perhaps fatal to President Felix, too. We ought to have thought of that before; but at least we must take the precaution of avoiding each other from now on. You must hold no communication with me whatever—not even through a third person. We cannot be too careful.”
The Camera Chap was forced to admit the wisdom of this decision. From that day he seemed suddenly to have lost all interest in horseback riding, for he took no more canters into the outskirts of San Cristobal. And when, on one or two occasions, he encountered Miss Throgmorton, riding or walking on the streets of the capital, he merely saluted her formally, and passed her by without a word.
One evening, about a week later, as he was entering his hotel, a man stepped up close to him and covertly slipped a small envelope into his hand. “Don’t open this, señor, until you are alone in your room,” he cautioned in a hurried whisper.
The contents of the envelope puzzled the Camera Chap exceedingly. In the seclusion of his room he read and reread the mysterious message in English, and evidently in a man’s handwriting:
“It is of urgent importance that you call upon Doctor Gaspard Bonsal, at nine o’clock, this evening. The address is Avenida Juarez, opposite the cathedral. Please come alone, and make sure that you are not followed before entering the house.”
Hawley’s first impulse was to go downstairs and ask the hotel clerk whether he knew of any such person as Doctor Gaspard Bonsal, and, if so, what he knew about him. But, on second thought, he decided that in the event of the mysterious message being genuine, and not the hoax he was inclined to suspect that it might be, such a step might prove unwise. The clerk was a talkative chap, and might repeat to others any questions that were put to him.