The Ely miner., 1943-11-25
CHAPTER Nv

ny taste In her mouth, as II she'd
bit into a sweet orange and found
II was sour one.
I'm glad Pete's in San Juan aft
er ALL" she thought, with a sudden
twinge of conscience. 81 wonder
what he's doing?"
Pete Wilcox, if she'd known it,
was at that moment two floors be-
low her in the Granada bar. He'd
watched her all through dinner,
seen her gay and charming and ra-
diant as sunbeam, talking to three
men.
The other girl Pete didn't even
see. He watched Anne and Miguel
leave the dining room.
They're going to Dance" he
thought. He looked at himself in
the mirror over the bar. The faint
green cast of his face couldn't all
be mildew, he thought with twist
ed grin. Take it easy, Captain
Wilcox" he said to himself
Anne put her hand out to put out
the light, and changed her mind.
The room glowed with faint silver
phosphorescence from the rising
moon. It was the moon she and
Miguel had watched growing round
er and whittier the last three nights,
she thought with little ache inside
her.
She shook that off impatiently,
crossed the room and loked down
into the patio. Don Diego Gongaro
had just finished lighting Richard
Taussig's cigar and was lighting his
own. Then Anne's heart beat lit
tie more quickly. She glanced back
at the door, her cheeks flushed
little. The idea that popped into her
mind, she knew, was one that should
never have occurred to a well
brought-up young woman. She dis
missed it sharply and turned back
to the window.
Even if Mr.. Taussig had ram
sacked her baggage, it was no ex-
cuse for her to do the same to his.
It was one of those things decent
people simply didn't do. What would
her mother, or any one she knew
even Pete Wilcox, or Jim Hawley-
think?
She looked back at the door again.
Actually, Pete wouldn't have hesi-
tated moment, and Jim Hawley
would have fired him if he had.
After all, there might be something
that would explain him.
Her hand shook little as she
opened the door. There was a light
over the transom in Room 108. It
was not the ceiling light; it was not
bright enough. It must be the one
on the table or beside the bed. She
started trying to remember whether
1t had been there before. She hadn't
looked, she had been so intent on
the conflict in her mind as she went
into her own room. 1t might be the
maid, she thought, listening. Or Mr..
Taussig might have left his light on.
She crossed the passage after a
moment and tapped lightly on the
door. There was no answer and no
sound from inside. Her heart was
pounding in her throat. She had
either to do it or not to do it, she
told herself-but she had to be quick
ABOUT II IN any case.
She put her key in the lock and
turned the knob. Mr.. Taussig had
not locked his door. She opened it
slowly, glancing back behind her
down the hall, and slipped inside.
She had taken two quick steps along
the passage between the wall and
the closet when the dimmed light
went off, leaving her in sudden abb
solute darkness. Somebody inside
the room moved with swift catlike
silence. She stood rooted to the
floor in terror, her voice frozen in
her throat. A mans hand strong as
steel closed over her mouth, sitting
the cry that sprang to her lips.
She was whirled around and moved
back to the door so quickly and
easily that she didn't have time to
struggle. The door opened, she was
in the hall again; the door closed.
She ran, breathless with terror,
across the passage into her own
room and stood gripping the door
knob, her heart beating violently.
Very slowly then she raised her
hand to her face and touched it
with trembling fingers. In the dim
light above the open transom she
had caught one flashing glimpse of
the man in the room. It was Mig
uel Valera.
A chill stabbing awareness that
she was for the first time in her life
up against stark reality that thrust
friendship aside, as Miguel had done
with her, made her hand relax slow
" from her doorknob. She reached
out to switch on the light, changed
her mind and stood there listening
warily. He was coming out. She
heard the door across the passage
close quietly, the key turn softly in
the lcck, and his footsteps retreating
quickly along the hall. Still with
out turning on the light she went
quietly through the narrow passage
between the closet and the wall
into her room. She stopped at the
foot Of her bed, shrouded In white
mosquito netting, and glanced back
at the door.
'I wonder :" she thought.
al Just wonder"
What if Miguel Valera had real
lied there was something odd about
Richard Taussig too? That could
explain it. He could have left Gra-
ciela for minute just to come up
and see, while his uncle and Taus-
sig were talking.
She slipped to the window and
looked down into the patio. Don
Diego Gongaro and Taussig were
still sitting there, their cigars still
quite long. That came as a little
shock to her. What had seemed