[Four strong arms caught her before her feet touched the floor of the balcony.]

THE SECRET OF
CASA GRANDE

HELEN RANDOLPH

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
Akron, Ohio New York

Mexican Mystery Series
by Helen Randolph

[The Secret of Casa Grande]
[The Mystery of Carlitos]
[Crossed Trails in Mexico]

Copyright, MCMXXXVI
The Saalfield Publishing Company
Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE [I The Mysterious Window] 7 [II The Search Begins] 22 [III A New Discovery] 36 [IV Jo Ann’s Secret Quest] 50 [V The Siesta Hour] 66 [VI Jo Ann’s Predicament] 82 [VII The Promenade] 99 [VIII The Señor’s Library] 116 [IX The Sealed Door] 134 [X Through the Mysterious Window] 148 [XI The Hastily Planned Merienda] 162 [XII Florence’s Surprise] 173 [XIII Into the Unknown] 185 [XIV Ghostly Figures] 200 [XV The Black Box] 220 [XVI More Precious Than Jewels] 229 [XVII The Señor’s Story] 240

CHAPTER I
THE MYSTERIOUS WINDOW

Aroused by a slight noise in the room, Jo Ann sleepily tossed back the turbulent black curls from her forehead and slowly opened first one eye, then the other. She lay staring half dazedly as the solid doorlike shutters swung back, letting the rays of the morning sun filter into the room through the iron bars of the window. Where was she? Why the iron bars?

Slowly her gaze traveled over the room, taking in the high, heavily beamed ceiling, the bare plastered walls, and finally resting on Peggy sleeping peacefully beside her. Everything floated again before her mind’s eye: their long trip to Mexico, their midnight arrival at this great old stone house, and their warm welcome by Peggy’s friend, Florence Blackwell, whom she had never seen before.

The next moment the Indian woman, who had wakened her by opening the heavy shutters, noiselessly crossed the room and began arranging dishes on a small table beside the bed.

“Buenos dias, señorita [Good morning, miss],” she said softly in Spanish as she noticed that one of the girls was awake.

“Ah—buenos dias,” stammered Jo Ann.

Again the woman spoke to her, but Jo Ann shook her head. After the woman had repeated her words very slowly, she was able to understand a few phrases.

Disturbed by their voices, Peggy suddenly sat up in bed, opening wide her dark-fringed hazel eyes. She, too, was startled for a moment by the unfamiliar surroundings; then, noticing the servant and the expression on Jo Ann’s face, she burst out laughing. “What’s the matter, Jo?” she asked teasingly a moment later. “Can’t you understand what she’s saying?”

“I think she’s trying to tell me something about Florence, but I’m not sure. I wonder where she is.”

Almost simultaneously there burst into the room a small trim girl with smooth fair hair and gentian-blue eyes. “Good morning, sleepy-heads,” she laughed, dropping down on the foot of the bed and fanning herself with a large sun hat. “Girls, this is Juana. Did she deliver my message?”

“She tried to,” Jo Ann replied, “but I’m afraid she wasn’t very successful.”

Turning to the servant, Florence spoke rapidly in Spanish.

Juana grinned broadly, bowed to the girls, and jabbered something they could not understand.

“She’s trying to tell you how happy she is that you have come to stay with her Florencita,” explained Florence.

“Tell her that we’re delighted to be here,” put in Peggy promptly.

“How I envy you—being able to speak Spanish that way, Florence,” Jo Ann sighed. “I’d give anything to do half as well.”

Florence smiled. “Oh, you’ll get on to it in no time.” As she had lived more than half of her sixteen years in Mexico, Spanish was perfectly natural to her. It seemed so simple that sometimes she found it easier to express herself in Spanish than in English.

“Though I’ve studied it two years, I have my doubts about ever being able to speak it fluently,” said Jo Ann slowly. Noticing Florence’s flushed face she added, “Where’ve you been? What time is it?”

“Almost ten o’clock. I’ve just been to market.”

“To market? Why didn’t you call us?”

“Well, I knew you girls would be tired and sleepy after your trip, so I didn’t disturb you. I go to market early every morning. I like to do the buying myself.”

“Promise you’ll call me next time. I didn’t come down here to lie in bed and sleep all the time. There’s too much to do and see.”

“All right, then; I’ll call you tomorrow. But come on, let’s have breakfast. I’m ravenous after my walk, and I know you two must be starving.”

“If having breakfast served in bed is your idea of our helping you to keep house, then I’m all for it,” declared Peggy gaily as she flopped her pink-pajamed legs over the side of the bed. “It suits my taste exactly.”

Florence nodded smilingly toward Juana. “It wasn’t my idea. It was hers. She’d be terribly hurt if we didn’t let her wait on us. After you two get rested from your trip, though, I’ll set you to work planning meals and cooking—and everything.”

“Well, I’m going to enjoy being waited on as long as I can,” laughed Peggy.

Sitting on the side of the bed, clad in their gay pajamas and eating their breakfast from an exquisitely inlaid tea table, Peggy and Jo Ann felt very sophisticated indeed.

“This is the most delicious orange juice and the best toast I’ve ever tasted,” declared Jo Ann, a moment later.

“It’s the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten in my whole life,” added Peggy with her usual exaggeration.

Florence turned to the servant, who had just returned with a plate of hot toast, and repeated their remarks in Spanish.

From that moment Juana was their devoted slave, anticipating their every wish.

As soon as they had finished breakfast, Jo Ann and Peggy dressed for the street, Florence insisting, much to their disapproval, that they wear hats. “The sun is too hot here in the middle of the day to go out without something on your head,” she explained.

While Peggy was arranging her hair in neat auburn waves, Jo Ann, who had finished her hasty toilet, stepped to the door leading into the hall and stood taking in every visible detail of the strangely constructed building. The immense rooms, each opening onto the long central hall, seemed dark and gloomy, owing to the thick walls, the concrete floor, the heavy doors, and the iron-barred windows. Though the bright-colored rugs, the gay-flowered chintz, and a few well-chosen pictures added a cheerful homelike note, the general effect was one of austere simplicity.

Having noticed Jo Ann’s interest, Florence came up beside her and, slipping her arm around her waist, asked, “How do you like our house? It’s very old, you know.”

“I love old houses,” Jo Ann replied quickly. “This one is extremely interesting—so different from anything I’ve ever seen.” She hesitated, then added, “I’ve been thinking of studying architecture when I go to college.”

“Would you care to see the rest of the house? There are some rather unusual features about it.”

Jo Ann’s dark brown eyes sparkled. “I’d adore it!”

“I, too,” put in Peggy, who had come out in time to hear Florence’s words.

Florence pointed to the open door on the right. “This is the sitting room, but Mother and I stay in the office with Dad more than in here. Come on and I’ll show you the office.” She led the two girls across the hall, but stopped a moment later, saying, “The office door’s closed—Dad probably has a patient—but I can show you the other rooms. The kitchen is the most interesting room in the house, I think.”

She took them into the dining room and on to the end of the long hall, then turned into an immense room having three large windows all heavily barred.

“My goodness, you could ’most put our whole house into this one room!” exclaimed Peggy. “I’ve never seen such a huge kitchen before in a private residence. Why do you suppose they built it so large?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure. It’s the strangest house I’ve ever seen. Just look at that fireplace, for instance.” Florence motioned toward one side of the room, which was entirely taken up by a huge fireplace set back in a broad arched recess. “It’s large enough to belong to some big hotel—and yet we’ve only two bedrooms in the house.”

“But why did they build the fireplace in three sections? All the fireplaces I’ve ever seen were built on a level with the floor. This one reminds me of the ‘Three Bears.’ This section belongs to the great big bear; and this one——”

Florence broke into a peal of laughter at Peggy’s whimsical idea. “No one but you would have thought of that,” she said.

Juana glanced up from her preparations for lunch, smiling to herself. She had not seen her Florencita happy for months—not since her mother had been taken ill and had been sent to a sanitarium for a several weeks’ stay.

As their laughter died away, Florence went on to explain, “You see, the lowest section—in the middle—was where they built their fire to cook the food; this section here, of medium height, was where they made their tortillas. It’s just the right height for the metate, the stone on which corn is rubbed or ground into a paste. There’s room here for several women to work at the same time.”

“But what was the great big bear’s section used for?” interrupted Peggy.

“The highest one was used for draining the dishes and earthen cooking utensils. Each section is covered with smooth hard stones, and here in the corner is a small hole left to let the water drain off. It was a very well-equipped kitchen in its day.”

Florence was delighted to find that her guests were so interested in the old house which had been her home for many years. She went on to explain that although modern equipment had been installed wherever possible, they had tried to leave the quaint old atmosphere undisturbed.

While she was answering Peggy’s questions about the new equipment, Jo Ann was busily taking in the details of the architecture, especially noting the absence of woodwork in the queer windows that had iron bars and no glass.

As her gaze wandered to the window at the end of the room, she caught a glimpse of something which sent a little thrill of excitement over her. She crossed the room quickly and stared through the iron bars at what seemed to be the ruins of an ancient building. Could this be the ruins of one of those old cathedrals which she had read about and had wanted to see for so long?

“What’s this old building back of your house, Florence?” she asked eagerly.

Peggy rushed over to the window to see the building that had caused the note of excitement in Jo Ann’s voice, while Florence merely smiled and replied, “That’s a part of a very old church, now used only by the poorest peons.”

Jo Ann’s eyes opened in surprise. “I don’t see how they can use it—it looks as if it were falling down.”

“The main part of the church is all right, but they never use the other part. I don’t know whether it was partially destroyed in a war or whether it just caved in from old age.”

“How old do you think this church is?”

“I don’t know exactly, but it’s several hundred years old. I’ve heard that it’s one of the oldest buildings in this part of Mexico. All the better classes of people attend the large modern cathedral across the Plaza.”

“May we go over to the old church? I’d love to see it.”

“Why, yes, we’ll have time to go over there before lunch. There isn’t much to see, so it won’t take us long.”

Florence turned and said something in Spanish to Juana; then the three girls started out of the kitchen door. “Before we go,” Florence added, “I’ll show you this other room just across the hall—there’s nothing interesting or unusual about it, though. It has only one window looking out on the back street. There’s nothing but the back of that old church to be seen from it.”

After glancing about this room they hurried on down to the street, Jo Ann in the lead. She could scarcely wait to visit the old church.

As they started across the street, Peggy looked longingly toward the Plaza and the crowded streets of the business section of the city. She much preferred sightseeing in that direction, but she knew Jo Ann had set her heart on seeing the old church and that there was no changing her.

A few minutes later the girls passed under the old stone arch and into the vestibule with its font of holy water, then walked softly on into the church.

Having come in from the bright sunlight, they were unable at first to distinguish anything except the candles burning on the altar. A reverent silence lay over the entire building. With her finger to her lips Florence motioned Jo Ann and Peggy to a bench. They sat down quietly, careful lest they disturb the peacefulness of the place.

As their eyes became accustomed to the dim interior, they noticed several figures with black shawls about their heads and shoulders, kneeling at the altar. A woman with a baby in her arms and a tiny, half-naked tot beside her was kneeling before the statue of Mary, Mother of Jesus, her lips moving in silent prayer. Direst poverty was evident among all the worshipers.

Many minor details that had escaped Peggy’s eyes caught and held Jo Ann’s attention. The benches, altar rail, and pedestals, she noticed, were hand hewn and decorated with exquisite carving; the statues were different from any that she had ever seen; and even the candles were unusual—probably, hand dipped, she decided.

For almost an hour they sat there silent, Jo Ann intent in absorbing the atmosphere of this ancient building.

“I feel as if I’d actually stepped back through the centuries into the Mexico of ages past,” she thought dreamily.

By this time Peggy had begun to get restless. To her the place seemed close and stuffy, the odor and fumes of the candles suffocating. Without saying a word she rose and went outside. Leaning against the wall in the shadow of the stone arch, she waited for the girls and amused herself by gazing idly at the rear of Florence’s home across the street.

“Florence, I don’t like to make remarks about your house,” she said, half smiling as Florence and Jo Ann drew near, “but from the rear it looks more like a fort or a prison than a home.”

“It reminds me of an old castle with its high stone walls and heavy iron bars at the windows,” added Jo Ann, gazing over at the house.

Florence smiled good-naturedly. “It doesn’t look very homelike, I’ll admit. I don’t believe I’ve ever noticed it before from this viewpoint. I never come to this old church—at least, I haven’t been here for several years. As I said before, only people of the lowest classes attend this church.”

“I didn’t see a window in your hall,” Jo Ann suddenly remarked to Florence. “I thought I noticed a shaded light burning on that little table at the end of the hall.”

“There isn’t a window in the hall—it’s dark as pitch there, and we have to keep a light burning day and night.”

“Then how do you account for that little narrow, crosswise opening up there in the wall? There it is on a level with the top of the kitchen and back bedroom windows.”

“I don’t know.” Florence gazed puzzledly at the small opening. “I’ve never seen a window like that on the inside of the house, and I know I’ve seen every inch of the walls inside.”

“Well, there it is—a tiny window, just as plain as the nose on your face.”

In silent amazement Florence stared at this narrow opening high up in the bleak stone wall.

“That certainly is strange!” she said finally, her brows drawn together in a thoughtful frown.

“It certainly is,” agreed Jo Ann and Peggy, equally mystified.

Everything was forgotten now except this queer window. Why was it there? Into what did it open?

CHAPTER II
THE SEARCH BEGINS

“This is the strangest thing I’ve ever heard of,” declared Florence as they hurried back to the house, eager to examine the rear wall from the inside.

“How long have you lived here, Florence?” asked Jo Ann. “I’m sure I’d have seen that window long before this if I’d been in your place.”

“We’ve lived here about eight years, but, as I told you, I’ve only been in that church a few times, and I’ve never walked down that back street.”

“Lived here eight years and never walked back of your own house!” exclaimed Jo Ann in surprise. “Who ever heard of such a thing?”

“But you don’t understand,” Florence replied. “It isn’t exactly proper for me to wander down that back street.”

Both girls opened their eyes wide in astonishment.

“Not proper to go back of your own house!” ejaculated Peggy. “The very idea!”

“Yes, you see it’s only a narrow street leading to one of the poorest sections of the city. Only the very lowest class of people live on it. Mother and I drive down on the next street sometimes, accompanied by Felipe, to carry food and clothes to the destitute families, but I’ve never been down that narrow street.”

“It must be something like it is on the street cars at home,” Jo Ann said thoughtfully, coming to Florence’s assistance. “You know how they are, Peggy—one section marked ‘Colored,’ and you never sit there.”

Up the long flight of stairs they ran to the Blackwells’ apartment, each girl eager to be the first to solve the mystery. Jo Ann’s long legs carried her ahead of Florence and Peggy, who arrived a moment later out of breath.

There stood Jo Ann staring blankly at the solid plastered wall at the end of the hall.

“I’m sure this is where that window ought to be,” she said finally in a perplexed tone.

“There certainly isn’t any sign of one that I can see,” added Peggy, while Florence gazed silently at the spot where she thought the opening should be.

Just then Juana ran in from the kitchen to see what had caused so much commotion in the silent old house. “Florencita! Que es [What is it?]?” she asked in alarm.

“It’s nothing,” replied Florence in Spanish. Understanding the superstitious nature of the Indians, she thought it wiser not to tell Juana about this mysterious window for the present.

Juana stared in shocked surprise. Something was wrong, she was sure. Young ladies of the best families did not deport themselves in such a manner. Her Florencita had never acted this way before—racing into the house like mad. Finally, shaking her head and mumbling to herself, she returned to the kitchen to finish her preparations for lunch.

The moment she disappeared through the kitchen door, Jo Ann hastened through the one opposite and called to Florence and Peggy, “Come on, maybe we can see something from the window in this back room.”

Much to their disappointment, the iron bars, set in the deep recess of the thick walls, prevented them from seeing anything except a part of the ruins of the old church directly across the narrow street.

“And so the mystery deepens,” laughed Jo Ann. “I’ve heard of bumping your head against a stone wall, but I’ve never understood what it meant till now.”

“Do you know what I think it is?” remarked Florence as they wandered back to the hall. “At one time there probably was an opening here”—she motioned toward the solid wall at the end of the hall—“then, sometime when they were fixing the house over, they closed it up. This house is very, very old, you know.”

“But why would they leave a hole on the outside?” Peggy asked.

“Oh, they probably didn’t think it mattered on that back street, and maybe the stones didn’t fit or something. These walls are so thick, you know, it wouldn’t make any difference. It’s too small to be a window, anyway.”

“Maybe so,” commented Peggy, “but it sounds funny to me.”

Jo Ann was silent. She was thinking—thinking hard. She thoroughly agreed with Florence that the house was old, but she was sure that the opening had not been left by a careless mistake.

“There’s a reason for it,” she told herself, “and I’m going to find out what it is.”

Just then Florence’s father, Dr. Blackwell, a tall, distinguished-looking, gray-haired man, came up the stairs. “Good morning, young ladies,” he greeted them pleasantly. “You look quite fresh and rested after keeping such late hours.”

“We’re feeling the best ever,” Jo Ann answered.

“Well, you certainly look it,” he declared, glancing from one to the other. “Florence, you have more color in your cheeks than I’ve seen for a long time. Miss Jo and Miss Peggy are having a good effect on you already.”

“Oh, Daddy, we’re having a wonderful time! But did you know there’s a mystery about our house? We’ve just made the queerest discovery!”

Dr. Blackwell laughed. “What is it, may I ask—some mysterious writing on the wall, or a pot of gold?”

“Neither. We’ve found a window that isn’t a window. It opens on the outside of the house but not on the inside.”

“Well, now, that’s strange, isn’t it?” he replied smilingly, as though humoring a small child.

“Really, Dr. Blackwell, there’s a mysterious window that should open at the end of this hall!” exclaimed Jo Ann, “but we can find no trace of an opening ever having been there.”

At that moment Felipe, combination chauffeur and house boy, announced lunch, and the subject was dropped as they all hastened into the dining room.

Peggy and Jo Ann were surprised to find, after their late breakfast, that they were quite hungry. As Felipe and Juana passed back and forth waiting on the table, Jo Ann thought how convenient it was to have servants who could not understand what you said. You didn’t have to be nearly as careful as you did at home with the Negro servants.

“I thought you girls might like to see something of our city,” Dr. Blackwell remarked as they were eating their dessert. “I’ve arranged for Felipe to take you for a drive this afternoon. I’d thought I’d be able to accompany you, but a doctor’s time’s never his own, so I’ll have to depend on Florence and Felipe to show you the city.”

“That’ll be fine!” exclaimed Peggy. “But we’re sorry you can’t go with us. Aren’t we, Jo?”

Jo Ann nodded an emphatic assent and then went on to remark to Dr. Blackwell, “We saw something very interesting this morning—the old church back of your house. I’ve been reading early American history a good deal lately, and this church seems very much the same type as the old missions in California.”

“Well, well!” smiled Dr. Blackwell in surprise. “I thought the modern young girl used her pretty head solely for thinking of frocks and furbelows.”

Peggy laughed. “Jo Ann hates dress-up clothes. She’d live in jodhpurs or knickers and shirts, if her mother didn’t make her get out of them occasionally. Jo’s enthusiastic over horses and dogs and swimming, but her chief hobby is nosing around old buildings.”

“There’s so much mystery and romance connected with historic buildings,” Jo Ann put in, shining-eyed.

“If you’re looking for mystery and romance,” Dr. Blackwell remarked, “there’s plenty of it to be found in this part of the country—that is, if you can only find the key to unlock it. I’ve been so busy studying the ancient system of sanitation—or lack of it—that I’ve had no time for anything of that sort.”

“If you get Jo started along that line she’ll never stop,” put in Peggy with a teasing glance at Jo Ann.

Dr. Blackwell smiled. “Then I’ll turn her over to a friend of mine—a prominent lawyer, who’ll be delighted to discuss the early history of this country with her. You know whom I mean, Florence—Señor Rodriguez.”

Florence nodded.

“He has the best equipped library in the city,” continued the doctor, “and you can dig into the past to your heart’s content, Miss Jo.”

“That’ll be wonderful!” cried Jo Ann excitedly. “I know I’ll enjoy meeting him and seeing his library. I adore books—especially about old historic buildings.”

As they rose from the table Peggy remarked, “Jo and I want to run across the Plaza to buy some postcards to send home. Do you want to go with us, Florence?”

Florence and her father exchanged smiling glances as she replied, “You can’t buy postcards now—the stores close for an hour or two in the middle of the day.”

“Oh, I forgot I’m in Mexico,” laughed Peggy.

“In tropical countries it’s the custom to take a siesta after lunch,” Dr. Blackwell explained. “People sleep in the hottest part of the day and do their work in the cool of the evening. It’s a very good custom, too, since the sun has a tendency to cause fever if one is in it too much.”

On hearing this the girls meekly followed Florence to their room, and when she removed her dress and shoes and dropped down on the bed, they followed her example.

“How still it is!” thought Jo Ann. Not a sound floated up from the street below; not a leaf stirred on the trees in the park across the way. Even nature seemed to be sleeping, so deep, so intense was the stillness.

Florence, from habit, was soon sound asleep. The other two girls whispered quietly for a while; then Peggy’s eyelids drooped, and she, too, succumbed to the restful quiet.

But Jo Ann could not sleep. There were too many things to think about. A visit to the Señor’s library—she’d love that. And that old church across the street—there must be some very interesting facts connected with it. She’d find out more about that later from the Señor’s books. But that window! It still puzzled her. There was something curious about it. What was that Dr. Blackwell had said about finding the key to unlock the mystery?

“That’s what I’ll do—find the key and unlock the mystery of this strange window,” she told herself. “Won’t Dr. Blackwell be surprised when I tell him I’ve solved it?”

Acting on a sudden impulse she slipped out of bed quietly so as not to disturb Peggy and Florence. What she was going to do, she wanted to do alone. She put on her dress and some rubber-soled shoes, then, picking up a large sun hat from a chair, softly opened the door.

There at the head of the stairs sat Felipe, sound asleep. She hesitated only a moment, then crept softly past him and on down the stairs.

“One good thing about these houses is there’s no danger of a loose board or a creaky step giving you away,” she thought.

Not a soul was in sight outside—not even a dog. Quickly she ran down the street and around the corner, but drew back as the terrific heat struck her face. Heat waves radiated from the cobblestones, and the white stone walls, acting as double reflectors, turned the narrow street into a veritable furnace.

But nothing could stop her now. There was something she wanted to find out about the rear wall of the house. Pulling her hat down farther over her face, she squinted her eyes and gazed up at the glaring white walls above her. Quickly she scratched three marks on the wall, one directly below the kitchen window, one beneath the back room window, and the third beneath the mysterious opening; then she paced off the distance between the marks. She was positive now that she could mark the exact spot on the inner side of the wall where the opening should be.

Eager to escape from the intense heat, she hastened back to the house.

“Whew, it’s hot!” she exclaimed to herself. “These Mexicans show good judgment in sleeping at this time of the day. I don’t blame them in the least.”

Fanning herself with her hat, she dropped down on the lower step to cool off a moment. How refreshing was the coolness of the great hall! She wondered how it was possible to be so cool here and so hot outside.

She listened intently for a moment, but not a sound came from above. Apparently everyone was still asleep.

Softly she slipped up the stairs, step by step, till she caught a glimpse of the sleeping Felipe just as she had left him, his chair tipped back against the wall and his head dropped forward.

There was only one more step now. Holding her breath, she lifted her foot; then suddenly there was a loud bumping noise. She was so startled she almost lost her balance. Clutching at the wall, she stared before her. Felipe, roused by some strange instinct, had let his chair down with a bang.

“No—no—no! Muy mal [Very bad]!” he exclaimed, pointing to her face. He patted himself on the head and talked rapidly in Spanish in an effort to make her understand that the sun was “bad for the head,” as he expressed it.

Much disgusted with herself for getting caught, and eager to escape, she called back “Sí, sí [Yes, yes],” and hastened on to her room. Now that her plan to measure the hall had been interrupted, she would have to wait till a more opportune time for that. Searching for paper and pencil, she decided to do the next best thing—put the outside measurements down so there’d be no danger of forgetting them.

She was sitting by the window busily drawing a plan of the house when Florence called in a surprised voice, “Why, Jo Ann! Where have you been? Your face is as red as a beet.”

“It’s nothing,” she replied. “I just went down and measured the position of those windows on the back wall. And was it hot!”

“You mean you’ve been down there in the sun!” Florence could hardly believe her ears. “Jo, you shouldn’t have done that.”

At the sound of voices Peggy opened her eyes, then sat up in bed to stare at Jo Ann. “For goodness’ sake, Jo, what’ve you been up to now?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Jo Ann answered crisply. Why couldn’t they leave her alone? She hadn’t committed a crime.

“But, Jo, your face! You’re so hot.”

“Well, if you must know, I’ve been searching for the key with which to unlock the mystery—as Dr. Blackwell suggested.”

CHAPTER III
A NEW DISCOVERY

Looking cool and dainty in their fluffy summer dresses, the girls came lightly down the stairs, ready for their drive around the city.

Florence smiled as she noticed the car waiting at the curb. It had been rubbed and polished till it shone, and Felipe, beaming like a child with a favorite toy, was leaning over, brushing a speck of dust off the hood.

Snatching off his hat on seeing the girls and grinning widely, he hastened to open the door of the car; then, standing very straight, he waited for them to be seated. His effort to uphold the dignity of his position as chauffeur was amusing. After tilting his hat—an old one of Dr. Blackwell’s—at a rakish angle, he proudly took his place at the wheel. Although the car was not as new and expensive as some they passed, he was sure none carried more beautiful passengers.

To the girls’ delight it was much cooler now; soft breezes were stirring, and the heat was vanishing with the sun, which was sinking behind the high range of mountains to the west of the city.

Slowly Felipe passed the cathedral and circled the attractive little plaza, while the girls gazed admiringly at the formal beds of brilliant blooming flowers and drank in the perfumed air, heavy with the fragrance of wild orange and oleander. Now and then through the foliage of the trees they could catch a glimpse of the bandstand in the center of the trees.

“They have band concerts two nights a week here,” Florence explained. “We’ll promenade awhile tomorrow night. I know you’ll enjoy it.”

“Promenade? What do you mean?” asked Peggy.

“Why, walk around the Plaza. On the nights when the band plays, the people of the better classes gather here and either promenade around the broad walk outside the square or sit on the benches to talk and listen to the music.”

“That sounds as if it’d be lots of fun,” approved Peggy.

At this moment the car came to a sudden stop. In attempting to turn off the broad drive around the Plaza into one of the old narrow streets of the business section, they were held up by the congested traffic. The enforced rest did not bother Felipe in the least. Calmly resting his elbows on the steering wheel, he waited for the way to become cleared.

“Why doesn’t he blow his horn?” asked Jo Ann. “Maybe that’d make them move.” She noticed, however, that of all the persons in the near-by cars held up in the traffic jam, not one seemed the least bit impatient.

“These people must have the patience of Job,” said Peggy. “If this were at home, you’d hear the horns blowing all down the line.”

“It takes more than a little thing like this to ruffle the slow, easy-going Mexican,” explained Florence. “He’s never in a hurry.”

In a short time they were on their way again, moving slowly through the narrow, busy streets. All classes of people and many nationalities were here, their different modes of dress interesting Peggy and Jo Ann, as did the stores with their queer signs and window displays. Although this was the busiest time of the day, they noticed that there was none of the bustling rush characteristic of American cities.

On through the less crowded streets Felipe steered the car into the residential section, passing several beautiful cathedrals and small parks, artistically laid out around the statue of some noted general or other war hero.

Near the outskirts of the city Jo Ann noticed with the keenest interest that there were all types of architecture, from plain stone structures built centuries ago and looking dull and drab, on to modern bungalows, gay with bright-tinted stucco and tiled roofs. Now and then she could catch glimpses of richly furnished rooms behind the iron bars of a window, and a flower-adorned courtyard or patio through an open door.

“I love the courtyards,” she remarked. “The great arches, the fountain in the center, and the tropical plants make them beautiful and restful-looking.”

“Yes, they are delightful,” agreed Florence. “Señor Rodriguez, the lawyer Daddy told you about, has one of the most beautiful patios in his house that I’ve ever seen. You’ll enjoy seeing it when we go over to see his library. I’ve wished many times that our house had a patio.”

“I’ve been wondering why it doesn’t, since all the other old houses have them. There’s something strange about the way your house is built. I believe when we solve the mystery of that queer little window, we’ll find out some interesting things about the rest of the house.”

“Is that the cathedral and the Plaza already?” asked Peggy in surprise just then. “How did we get here so soon? I’ve had such a wonderful time that it seems that we’ve only started.”

“May I ask a favor, Florence?” asked Jo Ann as they drove up before the house. “Let’s drive down that street back of your house before we go in.”

“Why—I—I don’t think——” began Florence stammeringly, then stopped, hardly knowing what to say.

“You said we couldn’t walk down there, didn’t you?—and I do so want to see it,” Jo Ann urged.

After talking to Felipe a few moments Florence answered with a half-apologetic smile, “Felipe says mañana he’ll take us.”

“Mañana?” repeated Jo Ann. “Oh, you mean tomorrow?”

“Yes, it’s too late now.”

Jo Ann turned to Felipe, who was opening the door for them. “Por favor, Felipe,” she begged.

“Please, Felipe,” added Peggy quickly. She was not particularly interested in going down that back street, but it was so pleasant to be out at this time of the evening that she disliked the idea of going back into the gloomy house.

“He says he’ll take us if we insist,” translated Florence a moment later, after talking to Felipe again. “But really, girls, I feel that we shouldn’t go now. It’ll be better to go some morning.”

“I can’t see what difference it’d make when we go. Come on.” Jo Ann could not understand the Mexican’s way of putting off till tomorrow anything he did not care about doing. When she made up her mind to do a thing, she wanted to do it right now. “It’s silly to make so much fuss about such a simple thing,” she thought. “Why can’t you drive down a street when you want to?”

“Well—all right,” Florence reluctantly agreed at last.

Dusk was falling as they turned into the cobblestoned street back of the house. Slowly they made their way over the stones—century-old stones, worn smooth by the tread of many feet.

The farther they drove the more thickly populated the street became. Jo Ann and Peggy were shocked by the utter wretchedness and abject poverty which they saw on all sides. Dirty, half-clad peons with their empty baskets or trays were shuffling homeward after their day’s labor in the city; old crippled men and women, who had begged all day on the streets, were wearily dragging themselves to a place of shelter for the night. The small windowless adobe huts which lined each side of the street seemed overflowing with people. Women with babies in their arms squatted in the narrow doorways, while dogs, pigs, and goats wandered in and out of the houses at will, as much at home as the children. As for children, they were everywhere—dirty, naked, half-starved looking.

“I never imagined anything could be so terrible,” shuddered Peggy. “Did you, Jo?”

Jo Ann shook her head soberly. “I didn’t realize there was such poverty anywhere.”

A shout rose down the street: “Americanas! Americanas!”

Children appeared from every direction. They crowded around the car. Some of the larger ones climbed up on the running board and the fenders.

“Centavo, mees! Centavo, mees [A penny, miss! A penny, miss]!” they cried, holding up dirty, scrawny little hands to them.

“Oh, Florence!” begged Jo Ann. “Let’s stop and give them something.”

“If we stopped now, we’d never be able to start again.” Florence explained quickly. “They’d climb all over us. Let’s throw some pennies out the windows.”

Hurriedly they emptied their purses of all the pennies they could find and threw them far into the street.

Such shouting and scrambling as followed! The children fought and knocked each other down in their effort to find the pennies, the tiniest ones crying because they could get nothing.

“It’s pitiful—heartrending—these children fighting over pennies as starved little animals over a bone,” thought Jo Ann. How was it possible for such things to exist, almost at your very door, and yet to be absolutely unseen and unknown? Was this really a part of the beautiful city they had enjoyed seeing such a short time ago?

Felipe could scarcely drive without hitting some of the children, yet he dared not stop. He had not wanted to bring the girls down here, as he felt sure Dr. Blackwell would object, but since they were here he must take care of them. While the children were busily searching for the scattered pennies, Felipe managed to escape the crowd. Quickly he drove to the end of the street and turned down an old, dry, rocky river bed, the car bumping and swaying as it sped along over the rough cobblestones.

“Florence!” shouted Jo Ann above the noise as she clung to the side of the car to keep from falling over on Florence. “I take back everything—I said—about you coming down—here alone. I understand—a lot that I thought foolish—before I saw this with my very own eyes.”

“We won’t have to go far—on this rough river bed,” Florence called back a moment later. “We’ll turn—at the next corner.”

“This is the—widest river bed I ever saw—to have so little water in it,” put in Peggy above the noise.

As the car turned into the next street Florence replied, “Sometimes when it rains hard in the mountains this river’s full of water.” She paused and added, “This is the street Mother and I’ve come down frequently to bring clothing for the poor families.”

Just then some ragged little children near by began to wave their hands and call out, “La Señorita! La Señorita!”

Florence smiled and waved back. “Those are some of the children we’ve given clothes. They look as if they need some more.”

“I wish we had some pennies to give to these children, too,” said Jo Ann. “Let’s come back here sometime and bring them something.”

In a few more minutes the adobe huts were left behind, and they began passing the plain stone houses of the middle class. With long-drawn sighs the girls settled back against the cushions, each thinking of the distressing poverty she had seen.

Suddenly down the street directly in front of them Jo Ann spied a tall, ungainly object against the high stone wall.

“What’s that, Florence?” she asked.

“That? Oh, that’s a scaffold the workmen are using in doing some repair work on a house.”

“But why don’t they use ladders?”

“They’d have a time to get a ladder long enough to reach the top of these houses. When they build them, they use big derricks to lift the heavy stones.”

“Then why do they build their houses so high?” asked Peggy.

“It makes them cool,” Florence answered as the car turned off the narrow street onto the pavement around the Plaza.

“Why, we’re almost home!” exclaimed Jo Ann in surprise. “Is it possible that this is part of your house?”

“Not exactly, but it’s all connected into one long building,” she replied, wondering at Jo Ann’s interest.

“Oh, then that’s the very thing!” Jo Ann cried, beaming.

“Whatever are you talking about, Jo?” asked Peggy.

“Why, how to get up on top of the house, of course! Don’t you see—I can climb up that scaffold to the top of the house; then it’ll be easy to let a rope down to the mysterious window. I’ve been wondering how I’d ever get on top of the house—it’s so high.”

“But, Jo, you can’t do that!” gasped Florence in alarm. “It’s too high, and anyway——”

“You’re not going to do it,” declared Peggy emphatically. “You might get hurt.”

“Don’t be silly,” scoffed Jo Ann. “I haven’t broken my neck yet.”

“No, but it isn’t your fault,” Peggy retorted.

“But, Jo, suppose someone should see you!” exclaimed Florence. “You must give up this foolish idea.”

“Would it be a disgrace if someone did see me?”

“Well, it isn’t considered proper here for a young lady to do anything on the street which would attract attention. You’d be a regular circus, climbing that scaffold. The street’d be jammed with people before you’d get halfway to the top.”

“I’ll promise not to give a free performance for the natives,” laughed Jo Ann. “But what’s to keep me from climbing up there when I wouldn’t have an audience? There are times, you know, when people sleep.”

“You couldn’t go out in the street at night—alone!” The very idea of such a thing was shocking to Florence. “That scaffold’s nothing but some rough poles fastened to the wall, and it’s so high it’d be dangerous—not at all like climbing a ladder.”

The car drew up before the house, and Florence and Peggy jumped out and hurried up the stairs without waiting for Felipe to open the door for them, but Jo Ann lingered a moment to thank him for granting her request. She knew he couldn’t understand a word she said, but from the broad grin which spread over his face she felt she had made her meaning clear to him.

The ride had meant much more to her than she had expected, since she had discovered a way of getting up on the roof. All she needed now was a length of rope so she could lower herself from the roof.

“It isn’t going to be hard to do,” she told herself as she went up the stairs. Of course, she would not do anything to disgrace Florence or Dr. Blackwell—they had been so kind to her—but give it up now? Never! Not with her goal almost in sight.

CHAPTER IV
JO ANN’S SECRET QUEST

According to her promise to take the girls to the market with her, Florence called Peggy and Jo Ann the next morning as soon as she awoke. It was only half-past six, but the sun was already making a geometric pattern across the floor where it shone through the iron bars of the window.

Jo Ann was impatient to start the minute she had finished dressing. Yesterday she had looked forward to the trip only because it would be interesting, but now she was eager to find a store where she could buy the rope she needed for exploring the mysterious window. She knew that it would be difficult to make this purchase without Florence’s finding out about it, but if she could only find where to get the rope she could return later, alone, and buy it.

“Oh, hurry up, Peg,” scolded Jo Ann as she stood in the doorway, waiting. “You’ve primped long enough. We’re just going to market—no one’ll see you.”

“But what’s the hurry?” calmly inquired Peggy as she patted the waves of her auburn hair into place. “It wouldn’t hurt your appearance any if you spent a little more time primping, as you call it.”

“Well, if I were as fussy as you are——” Jo Ann began; then, leaving the sentence unfinished, she disappeared into the hall. There was no use arguing with Peggy. She just wouldn’t hurry—every hair must be in place.

A few minutes later, when Peggy and Florence joined her in the hall, Jo Ann asked with a meaning glance toward Felipe, who was waiting with a split-cane basket on his arm, “Do we have to take him along?”

“Why, yes; he always goes with me to carry the basket,” explained Florence in surprise.

“I’ll carry the basket for you, and we won’t need him,” Jo Ann volunteered quickly.

Florence shook her head vigorously. “You’re not a servant, Jo. I wouldn’t think of letting you carry the basket. That would never do.”

“Oh, well—all right, then. Just as you say.”

Although she had smilingly agreed with Florence, she realized that it would be more difficult to carry out her plan with Felipe along. His keen eyes saw everything.

“Felipe reminds me of a faithful watchdog,” she remarked as they started down the stairs. “I’m glad he can’t understand English—there’s some consolation in that.”

This would complicate matters considerably, having Felipe along; still, she could not say more about leaving him at home.

“He’s just eager to be of service, that’s all,” explained Florence.

“You should’ve seen him yesterday when he caught me slipping up the stairs. You’d have thought he was a contortionist or something, from all the motions he went through in trying to tell me the sun was bad for my head.”

“I can easily imagine how he looked,” smiled Florence. “He is comical when he gets excited. I hope you girls don’t mind walking,” she added as they reached the street.

“No, we don’t mind, only I won’t be responsible for my appetite when we get back,” replied Peggy lightly.

“I think it’ll be wonderful to walk this morning,” put in Jo Ann. “It’s so cool and pleasant, and we can see more when we walk—not that I don’t like to ride, of course.”

Although the sun was painting the tops of the buildings with gold, the narrow tunnel of a street still held the cool freshness of the night. As Jo Ann drew in deep breaths of the invigorating morning air, she wondered what Florence would say if she knew her real reason for wanting to walk.

Chatting gaily, they strolled arm in arm, while Felipe followed a short distance behind.

All along the way there were many curious, interesting things that caught both Peggy’s and Jo Ann’s attention—peons with trays or baskets either balanced on their heads or set on little portable stands; women squatting on the sidewalks selling flowers and fruits, tortillas, tamales, and other foods; beggars waiting on every corner trying to rouse the sympathy of the shoppers.

While the lively, talkative Peggy plied Florence with question after question about the people and their strange customs, Jo Ann had an opportunity to peer into each of the queer little shops they passed. She even stared at all the little stands in the street, almost expecting to see a rope dangling from one of them, so intent was she upon her search. Even though everything imaginable seemed offered for sale, she found nothing that in any way resembled a rope.

“Where do they sell rope in this curious place?” she wondered. If she could persuade Florence to return home along another street, perhaps she’d find a store there where she could get it.

Her perplexing problems were forgotten a moment later as the market loomed before them. It was a huge old building occupying an entire block. The immense roof was supported by heavy stone columns and broad arches which showed signs of having been, at one time, tinted in bright colors but now looked dull and faded. The plaster was cracked and soiled, and in places great slabs had fallen off, leaving the bare stones exposed.

“Oh, I love this!” exclaimed Jo Ann. “It’s one of the most interesting places I’ve ever seen. The people—their dress—their customs—the very atmosphere is different. It’s hard to realize this is the twentieth century when you look around here.”

“Yes, it is very old and much the same as it was centuries ago,” replied Florence.

Stalls had been set up in every inch of available space inside the building. Some were piled high with golden tropical fruits—oranges, mangoes, guavas, bananas, pineapples; others were festooned with strings of onions, garlic, and red chili peppers—all very necessary to add a piquant flavor to the limited fare of the Mexican.

Slowly they made their way along the narrow, crowded passageways between the stalls, Peggy and Jo Ann stopping every few minutes to question Florence about the different things they saw.

Finally, after glancing at her watch, Florence stopped abruptly and exclaimed, “Gracious! It’s after nine o’clock—I’ll never get through at this rate—not if I stop to answer all of Peggy’s numerous questions.” She laughed and gave Peggy’s arm an affectionate pat. “Would you girls like to wander around and take in the sights while I finish my marketing?”

“Yes, we’d love to,” promptly answered Jo Ann. “Wouldn’t we, Peg?”

“Yes, indeed!”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind being left alone, I’ll hurry on. Stay in this section of the building so I can find you.” In a moment Florence and the faithful Felipe disappeared in the crowd.

Jo Ann was delighted to be free to carry on her search for a rope without fear of being questioned. Although she felt sure that Peggy would enter into her plans, she decided not to tell her about them just yet.

Grabbing her by the arm, Jo Ann jostled and pushed their way through the crowd, up one aisle and down another.

Suddenly the breathless Peggy halted. “Say—where’s the fire?” she scolded. “I can’t see a thing, trying to keep up with you. Why the rush?”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to hurry so fast,” Jo Ann replied; then, realizing she dared not waste time arguing if she was to accomplish what she had started out to do, she added, “Can you keep a secret, Peg?”

“A secret!” repeated Peggy staring at her in surprise. “Of course I can—why?”

“Well, I’m trying to find a shop or a store—or whatever it is—where you buy rope in this place. You see, all I need is a rope—then I can explore the mysteries on the other side of that curious window.”

“But why so secretive about——” Peggy stopped abruptly, it having dawned on her why Jo Ann had acted so strangely all the morning. “So that’s why you didn’t want Felipe along, is it?”

“Yes, he gets on my nerves. All the way here I could feel his eyes boring into my back every time I craned my neck to see something.”

“You’re imagining things, Jo. It’s just your guilty conscience. He’s really the perfect servant—very quiet and accommodating, but not inquisitive.”

“Maybe you’re right—but still I’m glad he’s out of the way. Come on, we’ll have to hurry, or they’ll be back.” She caught hold of Peggy’s arm to keep from getting separated in the crowd, then continued, “You remember how horrified Florence was yesterday when I mentioned my plan to climb that scaffold—well, I don’t want her to find out what I’m doing. It’d only worry her, and I have no intention of giving it up.”

A dubious expression crept into Peggy’s hazel eyes. “I still think you’re foolish to risk breaking your neck for something no more important than a hole in a wall.”

“You never can tell, though, what might be behind the hole,” said Jo Ann with an air of mystery.

“But, Jo, how’re you going to get a rope without Florence’s seeing it? It’ll make a bulky-looking package, won’t it?”

“If it does, I won’t get it now. If we can only find where to buy it, we can slip back later. You’ve got to help me get it without Florence’s and Felipe’s seeing it.”

“Well, all right, I suppose I’ll have to do it if you’re determined to go on with your plans—but really I feel terrible about doing anything Florence doesn’t approve of. She and her father’ve been so lovely to us.”

“But I’m not going to do anything to disgrace them. I wouldn’t do that for anything. I really feel that they won’t object at all after I’ve solved the mystery. Florence is just afraid I might get hurt climbing up on that roof. You know well enough I’ve done lots more dangerous things many a time.”

Suddenly spying an Indian woman with a basket of exquisite roses, Peggy stopped, saying, “Forget about your old rope for a minute, Jo, and help me buy some of these beautiful roses. Aren’t they the most gorgeous things you’ve ever seen? Ask her how much they are.”

Jo Ann quickly raked her memory for the proper Spanish words to use in buying the flowers. “Cuanto rosas?” she asked finally.