Quentin eyed her thoughtfully. She didn’t realize just how much of a nuisance she was going to be. Fuentes had obviously fallen for her in a big way, and when Cuban generals fall for nice-looking girls, they don’t stop at patting their hands. At the best of times a swell looker is out of place in a revolution, but when she’s parked right in the stronghold of one of the big shots, the mug who undertakes to protect her might just as well make out his will. There wasn’t much Quentin could do. They were all in the hotel as prisoners, so he might just as well offer her his protection as not. There was no side-stepping the issue.
He introduced her to Morecombre, who seemed rather awestruck at her beauty. Anita went over by the window and watched Myra out of the corner of her eye. She was smart enough to know that she didn’t stand much chance with the two Americans so long as this girl was around.
Quentin poured Myra out a cup of coffee and Morecombre hastily prepared breakfast for her. She sat in a chair, rather tense, rather hostile, and a little frightened.
“I don’t know how long we shall be here, but we must watch the grub,” Quentin said. He looked over at the manager. “You’d better get downstairs and see if they’ve taken over the hotel services. If not, see what you can do about hustling up some more grub.” He swung round to Anita. “I want an outfit for senorita right away. She can’t live in these clothes she has. Go and rake up something.” He went over and slipped twenty dollars into Anita’s hand.
She looked at it, bit her lip and then handed it back. “I don’t need the money to do that,” she said. “She can have some of my clothes. Would that do?”
Quentin hooked his finger in the front of her dress and dropped the note into the hollow. “Yeah,” he said, with his big, lazy grin, “that’ll do fine. Take the dough, baby; you might need it one of these days.”
She went out of the room without smiling at him.
As soon as she had gone and they were alone, he said: “Now we’ve got a moment to ourselves, we might as well consider our position. Quite frankly, I don’t like it too much.”
“What are you beefing about?” Morecombre asked. “We’re all right, ain’t we?”
“For the time being,” Quentin agreed, “but if trouble starts we shall be between two fires. If the natives come here and succeed in forcing an entry, everyone will be knocked off, including we three. If they don’t get in, Fuentes might think it a good idea to get rid of us rather than risk us raising the dust about being arrested like this.”