Kennedy shook his head negatively.

“Because,” pursued Norton, “an added inference to that I spoke of would be that the reason why they are so sure that they will find the treasure is that they are not going on tradition, as they say, but on the fact itself.”

“A fair conclusion,” agreed Craig.

“I wish the break could have been postponed,” continued Norton.  “Then I might have been of some service in my relation to Whitney.  It’s too late for me to be able to help you in that direction now, however.”

“There is something you can do, though,” said Craig.

“I shall be delighted,” hastened Norton.  “What is it?”

“You know Senora de Moche and Alfonso?”

“Yes.”

“I wish that you would cultivate their acquaintance.  I feel that they are very suspicious of me.  Perhaps they may not be so with you.”

“Is there any special thing you want to find out?”

“Yes—­only I have slight hopes of doing so.  You know that she is on most intimate terms with Whitney.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do much for you, then.  She’ll fight shy of me.  He’ll tell her his story.”

“That will make no difference.  She has already warned me against him.  He has warned against her.  It’s a most remarkable situation.  He is trying to get her into some kind of deal, yet all the time he is afraid she is double-crossing him.  And at the same time he obeys her—­well, like Alfonso would Inez if she’d only let him.”

Norton frowned.  “I don’t like the way they hover about Inez Mendoza,” he remarked.  “Perhaps the Senora is after Whitney, while her son is after Inez.  Lockwood seems to be impervious to her.  Yes, I’ll undertake that commission for you, only I can’t promise what success I’ll have.”

Kennedy restored the shoe-prints to the drawer.

“I think that’s gratifying progress,” went on Norton.  “First we know who stole the dagger.  We know that the dagger killed Mendoza.  You have even determined what the poison on the blade was.  It seems to me that it remains only to determine who struck the actual blow.  I tell you, Kennedy, Whitney will regret the day that he ever threw me over on so trivial a pretext.”

Norton was pacing up and down excitedly now.

“My only fear is,” he went on, “what the shock of such a thing will be on that poor little girl.  First her father, then Lockwood.  Why—­the blow will be terrible.  You must be careful, Kennedy.”

“Never fear about that,” reassured Craig.  “Not a word of this has been breathed to her yet.  We are a long way from fixing the guilt of the murder; inference is one thing, fact another.  We must have facts.  And the facts I want, which you may be able to get, relate to the strange actions of the de Moches.”

Norton scanned Kennedy’s face for some hint of what was back of the remark.  But there was nothing there.

“They will bear watching, all right,” he said, as he rose to go.  “Old Mendoza was never quite the same after he became so intimate with her.  And I think I can see a change in Whitney.”