The Gold of the Gods | Page 6

in her
tone, "was there any one who, for reasons best known to himself, might
have murdered him in a way peculiarly likely under the circumstances,
say, with a dagger?"
Inez flashed a quick glance at Kennedy, as if to inquire just how much
or how little he really knew. I got the impression from it, at least, that
she was holding back some suspicion for a reason that perhaps she
would not even have admitted to herself.
I saw that Norton was also following the line of Kennedy's questioning
keenly, though he said nothing.
Before Kennedy could take up the lead again, her maid, Juanita, a very
pretty girl of Spanish and Indian descent, entered softly.
"Mr. Lockwood," she whispered, but not so low that we could not hear.
"Won't you ask him to come in, Nita?" she replied.
A moment later a young man pushed open the door--a tall, clean-cut
young fellow, whose face bore the tan of a sun much stronger than any
about New York. As I took his appraisal, I found him unmistakably of
the type of American soldier of fortune who has been carried by the
wander-spirit down among the romantic republics to the south of our
own.
"Professor Kennedy," began Senorita Mendoza, presenting us all in
turn, "let me introduce Mr. Lockwood, my father's partner in several
ventures which brought us to New York."

As we shook hands I could not help feeling that the young mining
engineer, for such he proved to be by ostensible profession, was
something more to her than a mere partner in her father's schemes.
"I believe I've met Professor Norton," he remarked, as they shook
hands. "Perhaps he remembers when we were in Lima."
"Perfectly," replied Norton, returning the penetrating glance in kind.
"Also in New York," he added.
Lockwood turned abruptly. "Are you quite sure you are able to stand
the strain of this interview?" he asked Inez in a low tone.
Norton glanced at Kennedy and raised his eyebrows just the fraction of
an inch, as if to call attention to the neat manner in which Lockwood
had turned the subject.
Inez smiled sadly. "I must," she said, in a forced tone.
I fancied that Lockwood noted and did not relish an air of restraint in
her words.
"It was you, I believe, Mr. Lockwood, who found Senor Mendoza last
night?" queried Kennedy, as if to read the answer into the record,
although he already knew it.
"Yes," replied Lockwood, without hesitation, though with a glance at
the averted head of Inez, and choosing his words very carefully, as if
trying hard not to say more than she could bear. "Yes. I came up here to
report on some financial matters which interested both of us, very late,
perhaps after midnight. I was about to press the buzzer on the door
when I saw that the door was slightly ajar. I opened it and found lights
still burning. The rest I think you must already know."
Even that tactful reference to the tragedy was too much for Inez. She
suppressed a little convulsive sob, but did not, this time, try to flee from
the room.
"You saw nothing about the den that aroused any suspicions?" pursued
Kennedy. "No bottle, no glass? There wasn't the odour of any gas or
drug?"
Lockwood shook his head slowly, fixing his eyes on Kennedy's face,
but not looking at him. "No," he answered; "I have told Dr. Leslie just
what I found. If there had been anything else I'm sure I would have
noticed it while I was waiting for Miss Inez to come in."
His answers seemed perfectly frank and straight-forward. Yet somehow
I could not get over the feeling that he, as well as Inez, was not telling

quite all he knew--perhaps not about the murder, but about matters that
might be related to it.
Norton evidently felt the same way. "You saw no weapon--a dagger?"
he interrupted suddenly.
The young man faced Norton squarely. To me it seemed as if he had
been expecting the question. "Not a thing," he said deliberately. "I
looked about carefully, too. Whatever weapon was used must have
been taken away by the murderer," he added.
Juanita entered again, and Inez excused herself to answer the telephone,
while we stood in the living room chatting for a few minutes.
"What is this 'curse of Mansiche' which the Senorita has mentioned?"
asked Kennedy, seeing a chance to open a new line of inquiry with
Lockwood.
"Oh, I don't know," he returned, impatiently flicking the ashes of a
cigarette which he had lighted the moment Inez left the room, as
though such stories had no interest for the practical mind of an engineer.
"Some old superstition, I suppose."
Lockwood seemed to regard Norton with a