“Splendid!” the Camera Chap exclaimed. Then, as a thought came to him: “But there is one other question that I would like to ask. It concerns that chap, Cipriani, or Rodriguez, whichever his name is. He, of course, señora, knew the truth about your husband?”
The woman hesitated, and her questioner caught a swift glance which passed between her and Doctor Bonsal.
“Why do you ask that?” the physician demanded sharply. “What do you know about Rodriguez, sir?”
“Not very much,” Hawley replied. “I saw, of course, what happened on the customhouse dock at Puerto Guerra, the other day, and later, when I arrived here, I learned from the clerk at the hotel the significance of what I had witnessed. I was informed that General Rodriguez had come to Baracoa to start a revolution.”
Once more a swift glance passed between the old man and the señora. It was evident to the Camera Chap that the pair were exceedingly disconcerted by this turn in the conversation.
“Did—did this hotel clerk say anything which gave you cause to believe that Rodriguez knew President Felix’s fate?” Doctor Bonsal stammered. Happening to glance at the señora, the Camera Chap observed that her lips were parted, and that her whole attitude indicated that she awaited his answer with great suspense.
“Oh, no,” he assured them; “the clerk didn’t know anything about that. You need have no apprehensions on that score. It was your own actions that day, señora, which caused me to believe that you were in sympathy with Cipriani’s venture. I was standing close beside you at the ship’s rail, and I couldn’t help observing how greatly you were agitated by what occurred on shore. And then, there was the note you sent me later. From these things I got the impression that Cipriani was working for you—that his revolution was started with the object of getting President Felix out of El Torro.”
Doctor Bonsal glanced nervously toward the window, the shades of which were drawn. “Not so loud, señor, I beg of you,” he whispered. “If a mere hint of what you have just said should reach our enemies, we are done for. Tell me, have you expressed this theory of yours to anybody else?”
“Certainly not,” the Camera Chap replied indignantly. “Pardon me, doctor, but your question is almost a reflection on my intelligence.”
The señora uttered an audible sigh of relief. “We might have known that we could rely upon Mr. Hawley’s discretion,” she said. Then, addressing the Camera Chap: “No doubt you can surmise the reason for our great apprehension?”