I should have gone
to see a doctor about him," she added wildly, her feelings getting
the better of her. "But it is no longer a case for a doctor. It is
a case for a detective--for some one who is more than a detective.
You cannot bring him back, but--"
She could not go on. Yet her broken sentence spoke volumes, in her
pleading, soft, musical voice, which was far more pleasing to the
ear than that of the usual Latin-American.
I had heard that the women of Lima were famed for their beauty and
melodious voices. Senorita Inez surely upheld their reputation.
There was an appealing look now in her soft deep-brown eyes, and
her thin, delicate lips trembled as she hurried on with her
strange story.
"I never saw my father in such a state before," she murmured. "For
days all he had talked about was the 'big fish,' the peje grande,
whatever that might mean--and the curse of Mansiche."
The recollection of the past few days seemed to be too much for
her. Almost before we knew it, before Norton, who had started to
ask her a question, could speak, she excused herself and fled from
the room, leaving only the indelible impression of loveliness and
the appeal for help that was irresistible.
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