laugh. ‘So? Perhaps you should have taken a room at the Montejo Palace, gringa.’
She bit her lip. ‘I’ll need some insecticide. And a bucket of water, some disinfectant and a mop. I’m going to clean this room.’
Hernandez came in and shut the door behind him. He smiled at her genially, but Gabrielle felt a quiver of alarm run along her nerve endings.
‘Why do you make so much fuss? The room is cheap, no, and the—clients when they come do not notice such things. The other girls do not complain.’
Dry-throated, Gabrielle said, ‘Other girls?’
‘Si. You do not imagine you are the first? But you were wise to come to Hernandez, Inglesa. I will—look after you.’
The expression in his eyes as he watched her made her feel as if she was swimming through slime. Trying to keep her voice steady, she said, ‘I think there has been some mistake. I’d better leave.’
His small eyes narrowed. ‘Why you go? Soon everyone will know there is an Inglesa at Hernandez’ place. Many will come. You will make a lot of money. You were a fool to go to Pilar. Pilar is a good woman—very moral—go to Mass each day.’
‘No,’ she said desperately. ‘You don’t understand …’
‘I understand.’ He shrugged negligently. ‘You had to leave your hotel. Hotels here—very strict. But is O.K. here. Is good room, very cheap.’ He smiled again and took her arm, pinching the flesh between his stubby fingers. ‘Be nice to Hernandez, gringa, and maybe the room gets cheaper.’
Sheer panic lent her extra strength. She tore herself free from his grip and dodged past him out of the room, intent only on reaching the street and the comparative safety it seemed to offer. But there was a man coming up the dark stairs, blocking them. She collided with a hard body. Arms like steel bands went round her, controlling her struggles, as sobs of fright tore at her throat.
‘Calm down!’ The voice held a snarl, but it was English and it was also familiar. Dazedly, Gabrielle looked up into Shaun Lennox’s dark face, his eyes brilliant with anger.
‘What are you doing here?’ she gasped.
‘I could ask you the same, but it’s hardly the time for damfool questions.’ He took her arm in a bruising grip and led her back down the passage, ignoring her instinctive resistance. ‘Don’t abandon your luggage, Miss Christow. Hernandez will only sell it, and I imagine he’s had some money from you already. Don’t let him make more profit from your mistake.’
Hernandez was standing sulkily by the door as they went in. At the sight of Shaun Lennox, his whole attitude became defensive and he embarked on what seemed to be lengthy explanations in Spanish, causing every now and then to shoot accusing glares at Gabrielle.
Dr Lennox silenced him with one swift phrase which brought dull colour into the swarthy cheeks. Then he turned to Gabrielle.
‘Get your things together, Miss Christow,’ he advised curtly. ‘They’re holding dinner for us at the Institute.’
She stared at him unbelievingly for a moment. ‘What made you change your mind?’
‘I haven’t,’ he said succinctly. ‘Dennis Morgan has made one of his lightning recoveries and wants to have a look at you. I phoned your hotel this morning to let you know and found you’d left without a forwarding address. We’ve been looking for you most of the day.’
‘How did you find me?’ She rolled her nightdress into a ball and rammed it into a corner of the case.
‘Quite by accident. Rosita who works in the office at the Institute—you may have seen her yesterday—was dining at the Café Tula with her novio tonight and she saw you. She got the gist of what was going on and it worried her, especially when she heard friend Hernandez’ name being mentioned. This bar is pretty notorious. But her English isn’t too good and she doubted whether she’d be able to make you understand, so she telephoned me instead.’
‘I’m very gateful to her.’ Gabrielle snapped the locks on her case with trembling fingers.
‘You have good reason to be,’ he said drily. ‘From your dramatic appearance just now, I imagine I came just in time. Here.’ He held out an imperative hand for the case and she surrendered it without a word.
The jeep was parked outside. She climbed in, still without speaking and sat, staring rigidly ahead through the windscreen. Shaun Lennox joined her.
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ she said in a tight little voice.
‘You’re just hungry.’ He started the engine. ‘Try and think about something else.’
‘How can I think of anything else?’ There was an edge of hysteria in her voice. ‘You don’t know the sort of day I’ve been through. And now this!’
‘You were warned,’ he reminded her. ‘I told you that this was not the place for practising your new-found sexual equality or women’s liberation—or any other half-baked ideas for that matter. But you had to find out the hard way. Why didn’t you tell me the Belen wanted your room and that you were stranded?’
‘You know why!’ she flashed.
‘Pride, I suppose.’ His lips twisted wryly. ‘And if Rosita hadn’t recognised you just now—I wonder how much pride you’d have had left in the morning. Would you have thought it was worth it?’
The tears which had been threatening forced their way to the surface and spilled over. She felt totally humiliated. It was bad enough that she had placed herself in a position where she had to be rescued by this man, but now to display such ridiculous weakness. All she was doing was confirming that she didn’t have the stamina for the job she had been sent to do. She was condemning herself before she even got to see Professor Morgan.
‘Here.’ He produced an immaculate linen handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her.
‘Thank you,’ she managed.
He grinned maliciously. ‘What restraint! Why don’t you fling it at me, and damn me to hell for good measure? Women with your colouring aren’t usually so placid under adversity.’
She dried her eyes, forcing herself to speak normally. ‘You’ve known so many, of course.’
‘My fair share,’ he said laconically. ‘And as we’ve moved on to a personal level—how many men have you known?’
Suddenly the picture of James was large in her mind. It had not occurred to her until then that he might be back at the Institute, returned from whatever mission he had been carrying out for the expedition. She felt a cold chill at the thought. She could imagine the image she presented at that moment—tangled hair, eyes red and blurred with weeping. Her appearance, quite apart from the mess she had all unwittingly landed herself in, would be a total affront to his tidy soul.
‘You’re very quiet,’ he commented laconically. ‘Are you searching your memory or simply freezing me with your silence?’
The colour rose in her face as she recalled what his original question had been.
‘I
