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.
When he emerged from the house a few moments later, it was with a
queer, set look upon his face.
"I got 'em," he said. "She's gone--left three days ago."
"Where did she go?"
"They wouldn't tell me."
"They WOULDN'T?" Strange looked up sharply.
"Wouldn't or couldn't." The men eyed each other silently; then
Phil inquired:
"Well, what do you make of it?"
"I don't know. She wasn't kidnapped, that's a cinch, for Dolores
went with her. I--think we're exciting ourselves unduly."
The little fortune-teller broke out excitedly: "The hell we are!
Why do you suppose I've been playing that Morales girl? I tell you
there's something crooked going on. Don't I know? Didn't I wise
you three weeks ago that something like this was coming off?" It
was plain that Phil put complete faith in his powers of
divination, and at this moment his earnestness carried a certain
degree of conviction. Dave made an effort to clear his tired
brain.
"Very well," he said. "If you're so sure, I'll go to Las Palmas.
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