"He has given large sums to
scholars down there, to Professor Norton's expeditions from New
York. I--I'm afraid of that Mr. Whitney!"
Her quiet tone had risen to a pitch of tremulous excitement. Her
face, which had been pale from the strain of the tragedy, was now
full of colour, and her breast rose and fell with suppressed
emotion.
"Afraid of him--why?" asked Kennedy.
There was no more reticence. Once having said so much, she seemed
to feel that she must go on and tell her fears.
"Because," she went on, "he--he knows a woman--whom my father
knew." A sudden flash of fire seemed to light up her dark eyes. "A
woman of Truxillo," she continued, "Senora de Moche."
"De Moche," repeated Kennedy, recalling the name and a still
unexplained incident of our first interview. "Who is this Senora
de Moche?" he asked, studying her as if she had been under a lens.
"A Peruvian of an old Indian family," she replied, in a low tone,
as if the words were forced from her. "She has come to New York
with her son, Alfonso. You remember--you met him. He is studying
here at the University."
Again I noted the different manner in which she spoke the two
names of mother and son. Evidently there was some feud, some
barrier between her and the elder woman, which did not extend to
Alfonso.
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