"Holy Mother! but eet 's true he ees here, señorita—see yonder by de second vindow," she whispered fiercely. "Maybe it vas so he tink to get you once more, but he not looked dis vay yet. Bueno! I make him dance vis me. Dis man Stutter Brown, an' he go vis you to de hotel; ees eet not so, amigo?"
"I-I have no t-t-time," he stuttered, totally confused. "Y-you see, I 'm in a h-hell of a h-h-hurry."
"Pah; eet vill not take five minute, an' I be here ven you come back. Si, señor, I vait for you for de dance, sure." She turned eagerly to Miss Norvell. "You go vis him, señorita; he ver' good man, I, Mercedes, know."
The American looked at them both, her eyes slightly smiling in understanding.
"Yes," she assented quietly, "I believe he is."
CHAPTER XI
HALF-CONFIDENCES
Whatever Stutter Brown may secretly have thought concerning this new arrangement of his affairs, he indulged in no outward manifestations. Not greatly gifted in speech, he was nevertheless sufficiently prompt in action. The swift, nervous orders of the impulsive Mexican dancer had sufficiently impressed him with one controlling idea, that something decidedly serious was in the air; and, as she flitted across the room, looking not unlike a red bird, he watched her make directly toward a man who was leaning negligently back in a chair against the farther wall. For a moment he continued to gaze through the obscuring haze of tobacco smoke, uncertain as to the other's identity, his eyes growing angry, his square jaw set firm.
"W-who is the f-f-feller?" he questioned gruffly. "Wh-what 's she m-mean l-leavin' me to go over th-thar ter h-him?"