nd out what I wanted to know.
Guerrero is not here."

We rose shortly and excused ourselves and, with general regrets in which
all but Torreon joined, were bowed out with the same courtly politeness
with which we had been received.

As we left the house, the return to the world was quick. It was like
coming out from the matinee and seeing the crowds on the street. They,
not the matinee, were unreal for the moment. But, strange to say, I
found one felt no depression as a result of the mescal intoxication.

"What is it about mescal that produces such results?" I asked.

"The alkaloids," replied Kennedy as we walked slowly along. "Mescal was
first brought to the attention of scientists by explorers employed by
our bureau of ethnology. Dr. Weir Mitchell and Dr. Harvey Wiley and
several German scientists have investigated it since then. It is well
known that it contains half a dozen alkaloids and resins of curious
and little-investigated nature. I can't recall even the names of them
offhand, but I have them in my laboratory."

As the effect of the mescal began to wear off in the fresh air, I found
myself in a peculiar questioning state. What had we gained by our visit?
Looking calmly at it, I could not help but ask myself why both Torreon
and Senora Mendez had acted as if they were concealing something about
the whereabouts of Guerrero. Was she a spy? Did she know anything about
the loss of the half-million dollars?

Of one thing I was certain. Torreon was an ardent admirer of the
beautiful senora, equally ardent with Guerrero. Was he simply a jealous
suitor, angry at his rival, and now glad that he was out of the way?
Where had Guerrero gone The question was still unanswered.

Absorbed in these reveries, I did not notice particularly where Kennedy
was hurrying me. In fact, finding no plausible answer to my speculations
and knowing that it was useless to question Kennedy at this stage of his
inquiry, I did not for the moment care where we went but allowed him to
take the lead.

We entered one of the fine apartments on the drive and rode up in
the elevator. A door opened and, with a start, I found myself in the
presence of Miss Guerrero again. The questioning look on her face
recalled the object of our search, and its ill success so far. Why had
Kennedy come back with so little to report?

"Have you heard anything?" she asked eagerly.

"Not directly," replied Kennedy. "But I have a clue, at least. I believe
that T