Gideon Morse still had the little steel-blue automatic pistol in his
hand. He was actually smiling and humming a little tune when he turned
and saw Juanita and myself coming out of the alcove.
In a flash his hand dropped the pistol into the pocket of his dinner
jacket and his face changed.
"Santa Maria!" he said in Spanish, and then, "Juanita, Sir Thomas
Kirby!"
"You remember you gave me an appointment to-night, Mr. Morse," I
stammered.
"Of course, of course, then--"
He said no more, for with a little gasp Juanita sank into a heap upon
the floor. We had loosened hands directly the millionaire turned towards
us and I was too late to catch her.
Morse was at her side in an instant.
"The bell," he said curtly, and I ran to the side of the room and
pressed the button hard and long.
Wow! but these money emperors of the world are well served! In a second,
so it seemed, the room was full of people. The young secretary, a couple
of maids, a dark foreign-looking man in a morning coat and a black tie
whom I took to be the valet, and finally a gigantic fellow in tweeds
with a battered face as big as a ham and arms which reached almost to
his knees.
The maids were at the girl's side in a moment, applying restoratives.
Morse rose, just as another door opened and in sailed a stout elderly
lady in a black evening dress with a mantilla of black lace over her
abundant and ivory white hair. Morse said something to her in Spanish
and I wished I had been Arthur Winstanley to understand it. Then I felt
my arm taken and Morse drew me away.
"It is nothing serious," he said, "just a little shock," and as he said
it he made a slight gesture with his head.
It was enough. The secretary, the valet, and the huge, vulgar-looking
man in tweeds faded away in an instant, though not before I had seen the
latter spot the broken mirror, and a ferocious glint come into his eyes.
Nor did he look surprised.
Juanita began to come to herself and she was tenderly carried away by
the women. Morse accompanied them and spoke in a rapid whisper to the
distinguished old lady, who, I knew, must be the Senora Balmaceda.
The two of us were left alone, and for my part I sank down in an
adjacent chair quite exhausted in mind, if not in body, by the
happenings of the last ten minutes. Up to the present--I will say
nothing of the future--I had never lived so fast or so much in such a
short space of time; and you've got to get accustomed to that sort of
thing really to enjoy it!
"I'm afraid your visit has been somewhat exciting," said my host, in his
musical, level voice. His eyes were as dark and inscrutable as ever, but
nevertheless, I saw that the man was badly moved. He took a slim, gold
cigarette case from his waistcoat pocket and his hand trembled.
Moreover, under the tan of his skin he was as white as a ghost--there
was a curious gray effect.