For several days past Adam’s mind had been occupied mainly by thoughts of Chela; but this recalled to him the fact that his reason for coming to Mexico had been to collect material for another book and, loath as he was to leave her, he was eager to see these other great monuments of the past.
It was therefore decided that he should go down to Oaxaca on the coming Thursday, to do so sooner being ruled out by his having accepted an invitation from one of Chela's friends to dine on the Wednesday. Bernadino said that his office would get a seat for him on Thursday's aircraft and arrange accommodation for him in the Victoria Hotel at Oaxaca; then he airily waved away Adam's protests that he must pay for the trip himself. Adam could only thank him and again think how lucky he had been to be knocked down by the car of a generous millionaire.
On Monday morning they all returned to Mexico City. At the El Presidente Adam found waiting for him an invitation to lunch the following day at the Residence of the British Ambassador. The grande luxe life led by the wealthy Mexicans had amazed him, as he had had no idea that anywhere in the world there still existed people who were served like feudal nobles. But this was: another thing. It was an honour earned by his own achievements At once he wrote out an acceptance and took it across the Refoma to the British Embassy in the Calle Lerna.
That night he and Chela had been asked to dine with some friends of hers at the Rivoli restaurant. He had had little experience of such places, but the perfect service of the well groomed
waiters and the decor of the place, with the wall cabinets filled with Sevres china, made him doubt if there could be a better restaurant in Paris. Afterwards they went on to the Jacaranda to dance and he thoroughly enjoyed another happy evening.
Next day, at two o'clock, he had a taxi take him out to the Residence. Their Excellencies received him most kindly. They had read, and praised, his latest book. The Enriquezes were well known to them and they congratulated him on his accident's having brought him into contact with people so well able to give him a good time while he was in Mexico.
A cocktail session lasted until a quarter to three, then they went in to lunch. Fourteen sat down to table. The majority were
Mexicans, but they all spoke English; so Adam had no need to resort to Spanish, in which practice during the past week had enabled him to converse very freely. His neighbours were delighted when he expressed his admiration for their city, and when he said that he was going down to Oaxaca they plied him with information about things he must not fail to see while he was there.
For coffee and liqueurs they moved into a long drawing room which, as the building was a modern one, had one wall entirely of glass, through which the pleasant garden could be seen. Soon after they had settled down, Jeremy Hunterscombe joined them. Languidly the tall Wing Commander stretched himself out in a chair next to Adam, talked to him for some minutes about what he had been doing, then said:
`I've a little project I'd like to have a word with you about, Gordon. Do you happen to be free for lunch tomorrow?'
When Adam replied that he was, Hunterscombe went on, `Then come and have a bite with me at the Ritz.' With a grin he added, `Sounds terribly posh, doesn't it? But actually it's just an old fashioned hotel downtown in the Calle Madero. Not the sort of haunt for rich authors, but it suits chaps like me and I'll guarantee that the food's good.'
Adam thought the comparison in rather bad taste and swiftly replied that, until recently, he had often made his dinner off sandwiches at a coffee stall; then they agreed to meet at the Ritz at two o'clock.
That evening Adam took Chela to the ballet, downtown at the
Palace of Fine Arts. He was not a balletomane, but the perforce had been cracked up to him so he expected something exceptional. In that he was disappointed. The first ballet he enjoyed, because it was a most colourful spectacle of Aztecs in their gorgeous robes and wonderful feathered head dresses. But the others were only folk dances of the previous century, which he found trite and boring. Afterwards they went on to dance at the Via Fontana.
On the Wednesday Adam stood for some while on the pavement of the Reforma endeavouring in vain to get a taxi. Then, to his surprise, in response to his upraised arm, a small yellow car pulled up in front of him, which already had two people and the driver squeezed into it. After a hasty exchange with the driver Adam learned that it was one of a fleet of such vehicles which plied up and down the main thoroughfare of the city, picking up and dropping single passengers wherever they liked along the route for the modest sum of a single peso.
As he clambered into the remaining free seat he thought it splendid a idea, and what a benefit it would be to Londoners if a similar service were instituted from. Marble Arch along Oxford. Street to the City and from Knightsbridge up Piccadilly through the Strand and Fleet Street to St. Paul 's. A peso was only seven pence, and for a shilling such a run would be cheap.
The communal taxi decanted him opposite the spacious Alameda Square, with its palm trees, gardens and the huge Centre of Culture which had window displays of books in every language. From there it was only five minutes' walk to the Calle Madero and he found the Ritz without difficulty.
It was far from pretentious, as to enter it one had to walk through a short arcade with shops displaying Mexican craftwork and souvenirs; but it had a comfortable cocktail lounge in which Hunterscombe was waiting for him.
During the hour that followed Adam grew to like the Ritz more and more. It had a pleasant old fashioned air about it and a regular clientele of well to do business men. The tables were set well apart, most of the waiters were of the friendly old retainer type and the food was excellent; although, as he saw from the menu, the prices were reasonable.
It was not until he was enjoying a Mexican pudding of preserved pears, meringue and short pastry that their conversation became of any particular interest, and he unconsciously led up to it himself by asking if his host knew Monsignor Alberuque.
Hunterscombe gave him a swift glance and replied, `Yes slightly. What do you make of him?'
`I've met him only once and he gave me the shivers,' Adam said frankly. `Why, I don't know, but those dead black eyes of his puts my hackles up.'
`That rather surprises me, for he has tremendous charm. But he is certainly a queer fish and, curiously enough, to ask you what you knew about him was one of the reasons I asked you to lunch
It surprises me that you should even have known that I'd met him.,
'Elementary, my dear Watson. You were down at Cuernavaca last week end, and he is as thick as thieves with Chela.' `I saw him only during one evening, so I know hardly anything about him,' Adam lied glibly. `But why are you interested?' Hunterscombe took a long pull at his cigarette. `Look, old boy. You'll treat what I am about to say as confidential, I'm sure. The fact is we have reason to believe that there is trouble brewing in this country, and that Alberuque has a big finger in it.' `What sort of trouble?'
`Possibly a revolution.'
Greatly intrigued, Adam began to fish for information by saying, `I thought revolutions in Mexico were a thing of the past.' `Most people do, but they are endemic here. It's in the blood of the people. Do you know much about Mexican history?'