Page:Weird Tales Volume 14 Issue 3 (1929-09).djvu/13

"You wish shelter from the storm, señores?" he addressed them in excellent English, flavored with a slight accent.

Phil laughed a little nervously. "You are a good guesser, sir," he declared boyishly. "We can pay well for supper and lodging for the night."

"I charge nothing for my hospitality, señor." He fingered his black, military beard. "I welcome you as guests, not as lodgers."

"But we hate to intrude," demurred Tom.

"Julian Mendoza deems it an honor to entertain you."

Phil's brown, sinewy hand went out impulsively toward the pale, aristocratic hand which was offered.

"You are most generous," he said warmly. "West is my name. My friend here is Mr. Bannon. We are both from New York, and have been knocking about South America for the past six months, studying the Inca ruins, mostly."

"I'm something of an archeologist myself," returned Mendoza. "Our tastes are similar, and we shall pass a charming evening, I am sure."

Through the tiled hall he ushered them into a large room, magnificently furnished. The walls and ceilings were richly frescoed. Ornate hanging lamps shed warm, colored light over the hand-carved furniture. Beyond the stained glass windows the lightning could be seen tearing across the sky in fiery streaks.

"It is a pleasure to me to have guests," said Mendoza. "I so seldom see anyone besides my one servant and my niece."

As he spoke, the curtains hanging before a door parted and a girl entered. For a moment she stood there, with one arm holding back the rich folds of the tapestry, and the other fingering the lace of her white dress. Her soft, light hair, worn somewhat longer than the fashionable bob, flowed in shining waves and ringlets about her exquisitely molded neck. A band of pale blue velvet marked the fine lines of her head and made her large brown eyes very dark. She was not more than five feet tall, and her form, though rounded in womanly proportions, was slight and frail. When she saw the two young men, a vivid blush spread over her soft cheeks and throat, and she turned to flee.

"Wait, Inez," called Mendoza. "I want to present my young friends to you."

She acknowledged the introduction with a graceful bow and a shy, dimpled smile. After passing a few commonplace remarks, she excused herself on the plea that she wished to see that dinner was properly served. As she left the room, Mendoza's eyes followed her with a proud look, and a paternal smile softened his thin lips.

"Ah, my little Inez!" he murmured. "She is the core of my heart."

"Does Miss Mendoza live here alone with you, Don Julian?" asked Phil.

"Since finishing school in your United States two years ago. Her mother was a New Yorker. Her father died when she was a baby. It is rather lonely here for her, as she sees no one for months at a time. We can not even keep servants, except my faithful old Ramon. But I can not part with her; she is the one comfort of my life. I am her only living relative, and she has no alternative but to live with me."

"Selfish brute!" Phil ground under his teeth.

"Would you care to freshen yourselves before dining, señores? continued Mendoza.

The young men replied in the affirmative, and Mendoza rang a bell which summoned an ancient half-breed man servant.

"Show the gentlemen into the west bedroom, Ramon," said Mendoza.

The room was luxuriously furnished, with silk-draped walls and a huge, hand-carved ebony bed. In a few minutes they had rid themselves