“There’s been a mix-up somehow,” Mr. Livingston said, deeply worried. “Appleby couldn’t have received word from me, or he’d have met us.”
“What’ll we do now?” Jack asked. “Go on to the mine?”
“If we don’t hear from Appleby within a day or two, it’s all we can do, Jack. Our money won’t stretch too far.”
That night the Scouts ran into Mrs. Rhodes in the hotel dining room. They saw her again the next day at breakfast, and later at a large banana plantation which they visited.
“Say, is she trailing us, do you think?” Jack speculated, noting the woman’s presence among a throng of tourists at one of the banana sheds.
“What gave you that idea?” Ken scoffed.
“Well, she showed up at our hotel, didn’t she? And she’s more or less been around ever since.”
“Santa Marta’s small, Jack.”
“Sure, I know. I wouldn’t think anything of it if I didn’t know she’s the wife of that deposed engineer. But War told me she was quizzing him this morning after breakfast.”
“What sort of questions did she ask, Jack?”