, quick!" I cried as soon as I had recovered from
the shock. "Have you any smelling-salts or anything of that sort?
Perhaps you can find a little brandy. Hurry."

While we were making her comfortable the telephone continued to tinkle.

"This is Kennedy," I heard Craig say, as Juanita came hurrying in with
water, smelling-salts, and brandy. "You fool. She fainted. Why couldn't
you break it to her gently? What's that address on South Street? You
found him over the junta meeting-place in a loft? Yes, I understand.
What were you doing down there? You went down expecting a shipment
of arms and saw a light overhead I see--and suspecting something you
entered with a policeman. You heard him move across the floor above
and fall heavily? All right. Someone will be down directly. Ambulance
surgeon has tried everything, you say? No heart action, no breathing?
Sure. Very well. Let the body remain just where it is until I get
down. Oh, wait. How long ago did it happen? Fifteen minutes? All right.
Good-bye."

Such restoratives as we had found we applied faithfully. At last we were
rewarded by the first flutter of an eyelid. Then Miss Guerrero gazed
wildly about.

"He is dead," she moaned. "They have killed him. I know it. My father
is dead." Over and over she repeated: "He is dead. I shall never see him
again."

Vainly I tried to soothe her. What was there to say? There could be
no doubt about it. Torreon must have gone down directly after we left
Senora Mendez. He had seen a light in the loft, had entered with a
policeman--as a witness, he had told Craig over the telephone--had heard
Guerrero fall, and had sent for the ambulance. How long Guerrero had
been there he did not know, for while members of the junta had been
coming and going all day in the office below none had gone up into the
locked loft.

Kennedy with rare skill calmed Miss Guerrero's dry-eyed hysteria into
a gentle rain of tears, which relieved her overwrought feelings. We
silently withdrew, leaving the two women, mistress and servant, weeping.

"Craig," I asked when we had gained the street, "what do you make of it?
We must lose no time. Arrest this Mendez woman before she has a chance
to escape."

"Not so fast, Walter," he cautioned as we spun along in a taxicab. "Our
case isn't very complete against anybody yet."

"But it looks black for Guerrero," I admitted. "Dead men tell no tales
even to clear themselves."

"It all depends on speed now," he answered