It was a long tedious journey to Mazatlan, and it was after noon of the following day when Shirley and Mabel followed their captors from the train upon which they had spent the night and morning.
“I’m glad to get off that train, I don’t care what happens,” said Mabel as the five made their way through the dingy-looking station.
“I should say so,” agreed Shirley. “I’m so sleepy I could fall right over here.”
“I managed to get a few winks during the night,” returned Mabel. “I curled up in the seat.”
“I couldn’t sleep that way. I tried, but it was no use.”
They had now reached the street side of the station, and here Hernandez signalled a passing cab. Into this the girls were thrust and then the two women and the man climbed in. Hernandez gave an address to the driver, and the cab whirled away.
None of the occupants saw a man, who had been loitering about the station when the train pulled in, hail a second cab and come after them. This was the man who had been delegated to shadow them upon the request, by wire, of Consul Edwards at Acapulco.
To Shirley and Mabel it seemed that they rode through the streets of the city for hours before the cab stopped its bumping and drew up before a typical Mexican native house in the outskirts of the town. Hernandez and the two women climbed out, and the girls followed them into the house.
The man in the pursuing cab ordered his driver to halt while still some distance away. Then he dismissed the driver and approached the house afoot. He saw the five figures enter the dwelling and approached no nearer, but took a stand some distance away, where from time to time, he looked at his watch.
An hour passed, then two, and at length the man turned and walked away.