“Miss Mendoza?” gasped the girl. “But why? Does she—she know him?”
He nodded.
“Yes: very few people are aware of the fact. There was a time when he’d have done anything for her, and she was a wise girl: she let him help! Mendoza has money to burn and diamonds enough to fill the Jewel House.”
Adele listened, horror-stricken, incredulous, and he hastened to insure himself against Stella’s wrath.
“You needn’t tell her I told you—this is in strict confidence. I don’t want to get on the wrong side of Penne either,” he shivered. “That man’s a devil!”
Her lips twitched.
“And yet you calmly ask me to dine with him, and hold out the bait of Miss Mendoza’s diamonds!”
“I suppose you think she’s awful,” he sneered.
“I am very sorry for her,” said the girl quietly, “and I am determined not to be sorry for myself!”
She opened the door to him in silence, and in silence he took his departure. After all, he thought, there was no need for any outside help. In his breast pocket was a sheet of manuscript, written on the Head-Hunter’s typewriter. That ought to be worth thousands when he made his revelation.