Dave took the letters with a word of thanks, and thrust them carelessly into his pocket.  “What seems to be the trouble?” he inquired.

“You remember our last talk?  Well, them Mexicans have got me rattled.  I’ve been trying everywhere to locate you.  If you hadn’t come home I’d have gone to the prosecuting attorney, or somebody.”

“Then you’ve learned something more?”

Phil nodded, and his sallow face puckered with apprehension.  “Rosa Morales has been to see me regular.”

Dave passed an uncertain hand over his forehead.  “I’m not in very good shape to tackle a new proposition, but—­what is it?”

“We’ve got to get Mrs. Austin away from here.”

“We?  Why?”

“If we don’t they’ll steal her.”

“Steal her?” Dave’s amazement was patent.  “Are you crazy?”

“Sometimes I think I am, but I’ve pumped that Morales girl dry, and I can’t figure anything else out of what she tells me.  Her and Jose expect to make a lump of quick money, jump to Mexico, get married, and live happy ever after.  Take it from me, it’s Mrs. Austin they aim to cash in on.”

“Why—­the idea’s ridiculous!”

“Maybe it is and maybe it ain’t,” the fortune-teller persisted.  “More than one rich Mexican has been grabbed and held for ransom along this river; yes, and Americans, too, if you can believe the stories.  Anything goes in that country over there.”

“You think Jose is planning to kidnap her?  Nonsense!  One man couldn’t do such a thing.”

“I didn’t say he could,” Phil defended himself, sulkily.  “Remember, I told you there was somebody back of him.”

“Yes, I remember, but you didn’t know exactly who.”

“Well, I don’t exactly know yet.  I thought maybe you might tell me.”

There was a brief silence, during which Dave stood frowning.  Then he appeared to shake himself free from Phil’s suggestions.

“It’s too utterly preposterous.  Mrs. Austin has no enemies; she’s a person of importance.  If by any chance she disappeared—­”

“She’s done that very little thing,” Strange declared.

“What?”

“She’s disappeared—­anyhow, she’s gone.  Yesterday, when I saw you was laid up and couldn’t help me, I ’phoned her ranch; somebody answered in Spanish, and from what I could make out they don’t know where she is.”

Dave wondered if he had understood Strange aright, or if this could be another trick of his own disordered brain.  Choosing his words carefully, he said:  “Do you mean to tell me that she’s missing and they haven’t given an alarm?  I reckon you didn’t understand the message, did you?”

Strange shrugged.  “Maybe I didn’t.  Suppose you try.  You sabe the lingo.”

Dave agreed, although reluctantly, for at this moment he wished nothing less than to undertake a mental effort, and he feared, in spite of Strange’s statement, that he might hear Alaire’s voice over the wire.  That would be too much; he felt as if he could not summon the strength to control himself in such a case.  Nevertheless, he went to the telephone, leaving Phil to wait.