“Purely private affairs, I understand. Something connected with his journalistic profession. But we were discussing the matter, and he suggested a very reasonable theory.”
“And what was that?” interrupted Contraras. “His opinion was, to start with, that women should never be employed in enterprises of this character, because they had not sufficient nerve. His theory is that there was no treachery from our side, because if there had been they would never have allowed her to get inside the Palace, they would have arrested her at the entrance.”
“It seems feasible,” interrupted the Chief. “He thinks that Valerie got nervous and overstrung, that she detached herself too early from her chaperon, that the numerous spies who were watching got suspicious of her movements, and arrested her on the off-chance.”
Contraras nodded his head, as he added, “It might be so, and it is quite true that women lose their heads more quickly than men, when things are not running exactly in the beaten track.”
“Of course, as you may or may not know, our friend Moreno, although a very excellent fellow, is one of the vainest of men. He boasted that if you had given him the job he would have done it successfully. And I have sufficient faith in him to believe he would.”
Luçue spoke quite warmly. It was not a little to the journalist’s credit that he had succeeded in persuading this rather suspicious man both of his ability and his bona fides.
Contraras reflected for a few moments. “I have great confidence in your judgment, Luçue. You have known this man for a long time, eh?”
“For six or seven years, I should say.”
It was perfectly true. Moreno had been coquetting with Luçue and the brotherhood, and half a dozen other things, for quite a period.
“And you trust him implicitly? He is making much money?”