Part 37 (2/2)

”Search me!” Wiley shrugged. ”She's eliminated, anyway, from the scene.”

”Not if we happen to s.h.i.+ft the scene to Mexico!” retorted the other.

”What if she has gone back to Limasito?”

”Well, she hasn't.” Wiley announced briefly. ”Our men down there have their instructions to keep a lookout and let us know the minute she appears, but there hasn't been a sign of her. Personally, I didn't expect it.”

”Why not? Where else would she go?”

”My dear Harrington, if you had made as close a study of feminine psychology as I have, you would know that she would rather go anywhere else in the world than return to Limasito in defeat. With her pride it would be intolerable after the eclat of her departure as an heiress to slink back as merely Gentleman Geoff's Billie once more.”

”That's some satisfaction,” Chase muttered, resuming his nervous tread.

”But granted that she is finally eliminated, what good will it do us as long as Tia Juana remains under cover? Do you understand the situation? We're overcapitalized right now to the limit; we've watered the stock until it would float a fleet of battle-s.h.i.+ps and we're dangerously near the line----”

”Well, what can I do?” Wiley ran his hands through his hair. ”I've banked everything on this Lost Souls venture, and G.o.d knows I've gone the limit to put it through!”

”Have you?” Chase turned at the window. ”Just what did you mean to do, if you had succeeded in locating Tia Juana?”

”I should think that would be obvious.” Wiley laughed shortly. ”We've threshed that all out; I'd get her signature to a bill of sale of the Trevino hacienda where the Lost Souls' Pool is situated, record the deed with the Notary Public at Victoria, and then proceed to develop and advertise the well. What on earth are you driving at, Harrington?”

”Just this!” His partner strode quickly to the desk and bent down, staring significantly into Wiley's eyes. ”That's your program, is it?

Well, go ahead and carry it out!”

”Sounds good!” Wiley chuckled, sneeringly. ”Perhaps you'll be good enough to produce Tia Juana, so that I can start the ball rolling!”

”I will,” Harrington Chase responded quietly.

It was Wiley's turn to stare.

”Hope you'll have better luck than I have had, that's all,” he said at last, shrugging. ”When you find her----”

Chase interrupted him with a gesture.

”I _have_ found her!”

”What!” Wiley sprang from his chair. ”When? Where? Good Lord, why didn't you tell me before? How did you find her?”

”Wait----!”

Chase straightened and tiptoed to the door leading into the outer office. The next instant he had flung it wide, but no eavesdropper was in sight and the whole suite appeared deserted. He closed the door once more and thereafter ensued an earnest and protracted conference.

As a result, Starr Wiley failed to put in an appearance that night at a dinner to which he had been invited and his excuse pleaded a sudden business trip. Days lengthened into weeks, and when he did not return there was a ripple of surprise and conjecture at his abrupt evanescence, but the varied festivities of the approaching holiday season ousted him from his rather negligible place in the thoughts of his acquaintances.

Christmas came and pa.s.sed, and the New Year was nearing the end of its first month when he reappeared in the city, and simultaneously a sensational rumor spread like wildfire through the financial circles.

It concerned a marvelous new oil well, the ”Almas Perderse,” which had just been discovered in the richest part of the Mexican petroleum fields, and which was reputed to be the greatest potential producer since the famous ”Dos Bocas” itself.

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