“Ah, so,” Duke said, his smile never leaving his dark-skinned face.
“Does—does he work for you?” Vicki asked hesitantly. “He told me that he was a musician, a violinist.”
“Possibly he plays the violin. I don’t know. But here in Ybor City he works as a handyman. Runs errands.” He shrugged. “An old man can’t do much to earn a living.”
“I’m a little surprised,” Vicki ventured, “that, in view of his circumstances, he came to Florida from New York by first-class air travel.”
Again Duke’s face darkened momentarily, but the smile reappeared almost instantly. And once more he shrugged his shoulders in the gesture that is almost as much a part of the Spanish language as spoken words.
“Quién sabe? Who knows?”
The conversation had come to a dead end. Vicki would have liked to prolong it, but she didn’t know what to say.
“It’s been pleasant meeting you, Miss—ah—Miss Barr,” Duke said. “Visit us in Ybor City again.” He inclined his head in a short, nodding bow. “Adiós.” And with that he turned and disappeared through the doorway.
Vicki walked slowly down the street. At the corner she hailed an empty taxi and directed the driver to the Curtin residence. Then she leaned back wearily in the seat and attempted to put in order the scrambled thoughts that still spun crazily in her head.
She had been right after all! She still couldn’t imagine what the connection between Duke and old Mr. Tytell could be. But the old man was running errands for Duke, and seemed frightened half to death! And he had whispered desperately: “I have to talk to you!”