A few minutes later I heard movements outside and I walked into the hall.
Serena, in black slacks and a short, dark fur coat, came hurrying down the stairs, followed by Wadlock, who was carrying three oilskin-wrapped packages.
She looked white and ill; there was a pinched, drawn look about her that told more clearly than words how she had suffered during those long hours of waiting.
‘Monte Verde Mining Camp. Do you know it?’ she said in a low, unsteady voice.
‘Yes. It’s on San Diego Highway. It’ll take us about twenty minutes to get there if the traffic is light.’
Franklin Marshland appeared silently.
‘Where is it?’ he asked.
‘Monte Verde Mining Camp. It’s an old worked-out silver mine on San Diego Highway,’ I told him. ‘It’s a good spot for them.’ I looked at Serena’s white face. Her lips were trembling ‘Any news of your husband, Mrs. Dedrick?’
‘He—he is to be set free three hours after the money has be delivered. They will telephone us here where we will find him.
Marshland and I exchanged glances.