"Shall I send it by a messenger?" she asked.
"Yes, please," answered Kennedy, rising. As he moved a step to the
door he held out his hand to her. "Senorita Mendoza," he said
simply, in a tone that meant more than words, "you are a wonderful
woman."
She took his hand without a word, and a moment later we were
whisked down in the elevator.
"I must get on that roof on some pretext," remarked Kennedy, as we
reached the street and he got his bearings. "Let me see, that
house which backs up to the apartment is around the corner. Have
the man drive us around there."
We located the house and mounted the steps. On the wall beside the
brownstone door was pasted a little slip of paper, "Furnished
Rooms."
"Splendid!" exclaimed Kennedy, as he read it. "Dismiss the taxi
and meet me inside with the other package."
By the time I had paid the man and come up the steps again Kennedy
had made a dicker with the landlady for a double room on the third
floor for both of us, and, by payment of a week's rent, we were to
have immediate possession.
"Our baggage will follow to-day," he explained, as we mounted the
stairs to the room.
I thought the landlady would never get through expatiating upon
what a select place she ran, and thus leave us alone in our room,
but at last even her flood of words was stilled by demands from a
servant downstairs who must be instructed if the selectness of the
establishment were to be maintained.
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