finite news of Tia Juana could be learned. Dan Morrissey had
been faithful, but his ardent spirit outran his detective skill and his
initiative advanced no farther afield than a daily round of the
hospitals and temporary shelters of the city's driftwood, and a
hopeless concentration on the neighborhood from which the aged woman
had so mysteriously vanished.
Willa herself had no more comprehensive plan; she had advertised
discreetly in Spanish in the "personal" column of a morning newspaper
and followed every tentative line of investigation which presented
itself to her, but messages to each stage of the journey back to
Limasito and exhaustive questioning of the few individuals with whom
Tia Juana had come in contact in New York were alike unproductive of
result.
Hopelessness was stealthily enveloping her spirit, but she resolutely
fought it down. She must not give up, she would not until Tia Juana
was safe. She had been instrumental in bringing the aged woman to an
alien land, and she was responsible for whatever misfortune might have
come upon her. Then, too, there was her purpose still to be achieved;
that at least remained to her.
At breakfast Angie addressed her in honeyed tones, scrutinizing her
hungrily meanwhile for evidence of the result of her maneuver, but
Willa was stonily noncommittal. The meal progressed in a constrained
silence which was broken only by the shrill summons of the telephone.
Senora Rodriguez's staccato voice came over the wire in such an
outpouring of hysteria that at first Willa could make nothing of it,
but at length one phrase smote her ears:
"It is the jorobadito, Jose, who has disappeared now!"
"What?" Willa faltered. "You mean that Jose has gone also? It cannot
be, Senora Rodriguez! There must be a mistake! He would not go unless
he were abducted!"
"No, Senorita; there was no abduction!" the Spanish woman cried. "The
little Jose was all of yesterday most thoughtful. Scarcely could I
arouse him to eat, and as his fever abated I allowed him to sit in the
sun upon the glass-enclosed back porch and did not urge upon him the
medicine he hates. Last night as he went to bed he kissed my hand
quite suddenly, a thing he has not done before, though always was he
courteous. This morning he was gone as the old Senora went, without
warning.--Senorita, I am a poor woman, but I would give half I possess
to have the pobrecito back for he is frail and weak to be alone in this
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