"That was it! And am I to trust him, too?"
"You can tell him anything as you would me, amiguito, but remember, no word of the Pool!"
"That is written, Señorita Billie, on my heart!—But will the grandmama ever return?"
Willa soothed him as well as she was able, and, after a brief conference with Señorita Rodriguez, took her departure.
A man was standing near the bottom of the steps, lighting a cigarette. Her eyes rested upon him with no flash of recognition until he glanced up and then with a slow smile tossed his cigarette into the gutter. It was Starr Wiley.
His puffed, discolored lips stood out against the pasty whiteness of his face with the grotesque effect of a mask and his eyes gleamed malevolently, but he lifted his hat with the old airy insouciance.
"We meet again, my dear Billie!"
She bowed gravely, and made as if to pass him, but he barred her way.
"Are you in such haste? I've come on purpose to escort you back over the bridge and have a little chat with you. There is something almost comic in the situation, don't you think?"
"If there is, Mr. Wiley, it is discernible only to you." She shrugged. "I will leave you to the enjoyment of it."