“Where is Inez Mendoza?” demanded Craig, without returning the greeting.

“Inez?” they repeated blankly.

Kennedy faced them squarely.

“Come, now.  Where is she?  This is a show-down.  You may as well lay your cards on the table.  Where is she—­what have you done with her?”

The de Moches looked at Lockwood and he looked at them, but neither spoke for a moment.

“Walter,” ordered Kennedy, “there’s the telephone.  Get the managing editor of the Star and tell him where we are.  Every newspaper in the United States, every police officer in every city will have the story, in twelve hours, if you precious rascals don’t come across.  There—­I give you until central gets die Star.”

“Why—­what has happened?” asked Lockwood, who was the first to recover his tongue.

“Don’t stand there asking me what has happened,” cried Kennedy impatiently.  “Tickle that hook again, Walter.  You know as well as I do that you have planned to get Inez Mendoza away from my influence—­to kidnap her, in other words—­”

“We kidnap her?” gasped Lockwood.  “What do you mean, man?  I know nothing of this.  Is she gone?” He wheeled on the de Moches.  “This is some of your work.  If anything happens to that girl—­there isn’t an Indian feud can equal the vengeance I will take!”

Alfonso was absolutely speechless.  Senora de Moche started to speak, but Kennedy interrupted her.  “That will do from you,” he cut short.  “You have passed beyond the bounds of politeness when you deliberately went out of your way to throw me on a wrong trail while some one was making off with a young and innocent girl.  You are a woman of the world.  You will take your medicine like a man, too.”

I don’t think I have ever seen Kennedy in a more towering rage than he was at that moment.

“When it was only a matter of a paltry poisoned dagger at stake and a fortune that may be mythical or may be like that of Croesus, for all I care, we could play the game according to rules,” he exclaimed.  “But when you begin to tamper with a life like that of Inez de Mendoza—­you have passed the bounds of all consideration.  You have the Star?  Telephone the story anyhow.  We’ll arbitrate afterward.”

I think, as I related the facts to my editor, it sobered us all a great deal.

“Kennedy,” appealed Lockwood at last, as I hung up the receiver, “will you listen to my story?”

“It is what I am here for,” replied Craig grimly.

“Believe it or not, as far as I am concerned,” asserted Lockwood, “this is all news to me.  My God—­where is she?”

“Then how came you here?” demanded Craig.

“I can speak only for myself,” hastened Lockwood.  “If you had asked where Whitney was, I could have understood, but—­”

“Well, where is he?”

“We don’t know.  Early this afternoon I received a hurried message from him—­at least I suppose it was from him—­that he had the dagger and was up here.  He said—­I’ll be perfectly frank—­he said that he was arranging a conference at which all of us were to be present to decide what to do.”