“Was he kind to you, dear?” asked the Governor.
“Indeed he was, papa; kinder than any man had been. Sometimes he vexed me greatly. I did not understand him, and he was a constant tease.”
“He was an American tourist in Mexico then, was he not?” asked the Governor.
“He was an American, I am quite sure; but I do not think he was in Mexico for pleasure,” replied Catalina.
“Possibly not,” commented the Governor; “at that time many Americans were coming to Mexico to prospect. He no doubt was a mining man.”
“I do not think so,” confidently replied Catalina.
“No? What idea have you then, child?”
“He had much money to spend, and every time he came, and he came often, he gave me money; sometimes food and clothes. My mother washed for several people who stayed at the big white hotel facing the principal plaza. He knew this, and whenever he came he questioned me about these people—he wanted to know what I saw in their rooms. I always went with my mother to help her carry la ropa limpia home. I had a sharp eye and usually saw everything in view in the room,” she replied.
“I cannot understand,” replied the Governor, “why he questioned you about what these people had in their rooms. He must have been consumed with idle curiosity.”
“He asked me,” continued Catalina, “if I could bring him the ‘phiz’ of a certain man, who with his wife stayed at the hotel.”