“Yes—­with the peje grande, I believe,” went on Whitney.

Beneath his exterior of studied calm I could see that he was very much excited.  If I had not already noted a peculiar physical condition in him, I might have thought he had stopped in the cafe with some friends too long.  But his eyes were not those of a man who has had too much to drink.

Just then Senorita Mendoza entered, and Kennedy rose and went forward to greet her.  She saw Whitney, and flashed an inquiring glance at us.

“We were waiting for Senorita Mendoza,” explained Kennedy to both Whitney and her, “when Mr. Whitney happened along.  I don’t see Senora de Moche in the tea room.  Perhaps we may as well sit out here in the corridor until she comes.”

It was evidently his desire to see how Whitney and Inez would act, for this was the first time we had ever seen them together.

“We were talking of the treasure,” resumed Whitney, omitting to mention the dagger.  “Kennedy, we are not the only ones who have sought the peje grande, or rather are seeking it.  But we are, I believe, the only ones who are seeking it in the right place, and,” he added, leaning over confidentially, “your father, Senorita, was the only one who could have got the concession, the monopoly, from the government to seek in what I am convinced will be the right place.  Others have found the ‘little fish.’  We shall find the ‘big fish.’”

He had raised his voice from the whisper, and I caught Inez looking anxiously at Kennedy, as much as to say, “You see?  He is like the rest.  His mind is full of only one subject.”

“We shall find it, too,” he continued, still speaking in a high-pitched key, “no matter what obstacles man or devil put in our way.  It shall be ours—­for a simple piece of engineering—­ours!  The curse of Mansiche—­pouf!”

He snapped his fingers defiantly as he said it.  There was an air of bravado about his manner.  I could not help feeling that perhaps in his heart he was not so sure of himself as he would have others think.

I watched him closely, and could see that he had suddenly become even more excited than before.  It was as though some diabolical force had taken possession of his brain, and he fought it off, but was unable to conquer.

Kennedy followed the staring glance of Whitney’s eyes, which seemed almost to pop out of his head, as though he were suffering from the disease exophthalmic goitre.  I looked also.  Senora de Moche had come from the elevator, accompanied by Alfonso, and was walking slowly down the corridor.  As she looked to the right and left, she had caught sight of our little group, all except Whitney, with our backs toward her.  She was now looking fixedly in our direction, paying no attention to anything else.