The Secret of Casa Grande / Mexican Mystery Stories #1

“What in the world are you talking about?” broke in Florence, seeing the alarm on Peggy’s face.

“I was just wondering if she’d slipped down that back street again. She can’t get that mysterious window out of her mind, you know.”

“That’s so, but, surely, after getting caught yesterday, she wouldn’t risk it again. I’m afraid for her to be in the sun so much when she’s not used to it.”

“Jo doesn’t really mean to do anything that isn’t right,” Peggy defended, “but when she makes up her mind, there’s no stopping her.”

A little frown appeared on Florence’s forehead. “I’m really worried about her going on with this scheme. I don’t see how she can carry it out without being in great danger. Isn’t there some way you could persuade her to give it up?”

“No. She isn’t afraid of anything, and she’s the most determined person I’ve ever seen.”

“Let’s go into Dad’s office and out on his balcony so we can watch for her,” suggested Florence a moment later. “She’ll surely be back in a few minutes.”

“I’m going to give her a piece of my mind,” fumed Peggy. “She ought to know better than to go off that way. Something might happen to her.”

Looking in every direction, the girls were dismayed at seeing no signs of Jo Ann.

“She seems to have disappeared in thin air,” said Peggy anxiously. “Something must be wrong. She wouldn’t stay away this long.”

Almost simultaneously Florence turned her head, listening. “What was that? Didn’t you hear someone whistle?”

The next moment a faint but distinct whistling note sounded.

“That’s Jo’s whistle,” exclaimed Peggy. “But where is she?”

“Here I am!” called a low voice. “Up on the roof.”

“What!” The girls gasped in amazement.

Blankly they stared above them as a red, flushed face, framed with tousled hair, peeped over the edge of the roof.

“What in the world are you doing up there?” called Peggy, finding her tongue.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” Jo Ann called down, “but I’m caught and can’t get down.”

“Well, how did you get up there in the first place, and why can’t you get down?”

“I climbed that scaffold—it was easy—but while I was up here the workmen came, and now I can’t get down. It’s hot as the mischief up here in the sun.”

CHAPTER VI
JO ANN’S PREDICAMENT

“What are you going to do?” called Florence. “You’ll be sick if you stay up there in the hot sun all the afternoon.”

“Well, I don’t see anything else to do till the workmen leave,” answered Jo Ann. “If you’ll get me that parasol, it won’t be so bad. There’s a nice breeze, but the sun’s terrific.”

“How in the world do you think we can get the parasol up to you?” asked Peggy. “Do you think we can fly up there with it?”

“Silly! Just get my rope—it’s in my trunk—and throw one end up to me and tie the parasol on the other; then I’ll pull it up.”

“That sounds easy enough,” Peggy admitted. “I’ll run and get it right away.”

She was starting away when Florence put in, “Wait a minute; I’ll go with you. Felipe might be at the door, and we mustn’t let him see the rope. It might rouse his curiosity.”

“Choke him—chloroform him!” called down Jo Ann crisply. “Anything, only get the parasol, qu-i-ck. I’ll be done to a turn if I stay up here much longer without it.”

The two girls hurried on to their room. As soon as Peggy had taken the coil of rope from the trunk, she slipped it inside the parasol, saying, “This is the way we brought the rope into the house without Felipe’s seeing it, so we can do it again.”

As they were entering the hall Felipe stopped them. “Have you found Miss Anita?” he asked, using the Spanish word for Jo Ann’s second name, Annette, rather than the longer name of Josephine.

“Yes, she’s here,” Florence answered quickly, hurrying off.

On reaching the balcony Peggy whistled softly several times, and Jo Ann’s head appeared over the ledge.

“Got it? Fine! Pitch it up to me,” she called in a loud whisper as Florence put her finger to her lips and motioned toward the office.

Straightening out the rope, Peggy tossed one end of it into the air. Up it sailed, then fell dangling over the balcony rail.

“It’s a good thing I had hold of the other end,” she laughed. “This grass rope is so stiff, it won’t go straight.”

“It would if you’d throw it straight,” scoffed Jo Ann. “Coil it up again. I believe it’ll be easier to throw that way and pitch it straight up.”

Obeying directions, Peggy tried again, only to fail once more. Seeing how far Jo Ann was leaning over the wall in her effort to catch the rope, she exclaimed, “Oh, Jo, don’t lean over so far! You make me nervous.”

“Well, it looks as if I’ll have to hang by my feet to catch anything you throw. If you just knew how hot it was up here!”

“Don’t fuss! I’ll try again, but this balcony is so narrow that I can’t swing my arm. Now, ready? Here goes!”

Up sailed the coil of rope, straight into Jo Ann’s outstretched hands.

“Whew! It’s a good thing I didn’t miss again,” gasped Peggy. “That was work, believe me!”

Quickly she fastened the parasol to the lowered end of the rope, and Jo Ann drew it up over the edge of the roof.

Perched on the wall of the roof, high above the city, her feet dangling and the parasol over her head, Jo Ann presented a queer, almost ridiculous appearance, but to Florence and Peggy her position seemed anything but amusing.

So dangerous did it look that Peggy cried out in alarm, “Jo! For goodness’ sake get off that wall! Haven’t you got into enough trouble for one day?”

“Oh, this would be great,” Jo Ann called back, “if the wall weren’t so hot. There’s a gorgeous view and a delightful breeze—what more could you ask for?” She drifted gaily into one of the popular songs of the day.

“How can you joke about anything so serious?” asked Florence in a troubled voice. “Oh, here comes Dad with a patient! We’ll have to leave.”

“I’ll give you the signal as soon as we come back,” Peggy called softly.

Since the office opened with full-length, double doors directly onto the balcony, making it almost a part of the room, they hurried toward the door. Before they reached it, however, they met Dr. Blackwell and a tall, dignified man, who, with true Mexican courtesy, bowed politely and begged their pardon for having disturbed them.

As soon as the two girls were inside the bedroom, Florence asked anxiously, “What are we going to do about Jo Ann? I’m afraid she’ll be sick if she stays up there much longer in that hot sun.”

“I am, too,” Peggy replied, “but I don’t know what on earth we can do. Isn’t there any other possible way except the scaffold that she can get down?”

Florence shook her head.

Every few minutes they stopped talking long enough to peep out to see if the coast were clear. After what seemed a long time to them, they heard voices in the hall, and to their relief they saw Dr. Blackwell and his patient disappear down the stairs. In a few minutes Felipe followed with the bag.

“Except for Juana we have the house to ourselves now,” Florence remarked as they hurried into the office.

On reaching the balcony Peggy gave the signal to Jo Ann.

“I thought you’d never come back,” Jo Ann called down softly almost before the sound had died away. “And I’m dying to tell you something.”

“You don’t have to whisper now,” Florence put in. “Dad and Felipe have gone out, and we can stay here and talk to you without fear of interruption.”

“Fine! Luck seems to be with me at last,” replied Jo Ann. “While I’ve been up here alone, I’ve done some serious thinking, and I have a wonderful plan worked out.”

“It’s about time you did some serious thinking,” returned Peggy.

“I’m sorry I got in this mess, but if you can only get me the things I need, I’ll be standing down there beside you in a jiffy.”

Peggy grinned up at her. “If it’s a sheet for a parachute, I won’t get it.”

“Silly! I want an iron bar and a hammer, or something heavy.”

“You’re not going to drop them on the workmen, are you?” queried Florence with a half smile.

Jo Ann laughed. “I’m really quite harmless, but while I was climbing up here I noticed that the scaffold was held in an upright position by pegs driven into the wall, and that gave me an idea. Why can’t I drive a peg into this wall and fasten the rope to it, and then let myself down to the balcony? Doesn’t that sound simple?”

“Why—yes—it does,” Peggy admitted slowly. “But where’ll we find the iron bar and something heavy enough to drive it with?”

“There ought to be a hammer around here somewhere,” Florence put in quickly. “Come on, and we’ll see if we can find it and the iron bar.”

“If you can’t find an iron bar,” called Jo Ann, “maybe I could use an old broom handle, if you’d make a point on one end of it.”

“All right,” they called as they disappeared into the room.

Entering the kitchen, they found Juana huddled in a chair by the fireplace, asleep.

Slipping by her, Florence took a small hammer out of a cupboard, and handed it to Peggy, saying in a low voice, “Now, if we can find an iron bar, we’ll be fixed.”

Peggy smiled and whispered, “Why, Florence, this is only a little tack hammer. You couldn’t drive anything into a stone wall with this—not in a thousand years.”

“I’m sure that’s the only one we have,” Florence answered in a troubled voice. “You see, since we can’t use nails in this house, we seldom have any use for a hammer.”

Peggy began staring around. “I’ll look and see what I can find.”

“Sh!” warned Florence. “Let’s not wake Juana if we can help it.”

Together they slipped quietly about the room, picking up first one object and then another, only to lay it down again in disgust.

At the very moment that Peggy spied something that would do, Juana opened her eyes and asked in Spanish, “What is it, Florencita? Do you wish me to make you the merienda?”

“Why—no, we don’t care for anything to eat now,” Florence replied slowly. “But we would like to have something to drink. Please go down to the drugstore and get some limeades.” She turned to Peggy. “I’ve ordered limeades. I know Jo’d like to have a cold drink.”

The minute Juana disappeared through the door, Peggy stepped over to the middle section of the fireplace. “Here’s the very thing,” she said, picking up one of the stones Juana used to set her earthen griddle on when cooking on the fireplace. “And look here,” she added excitedly, “Here’s a piece of iron—the very thing we need. Now let’s hurry. I know Jo’s tired waiting.”

“How silly of me not to think of these things!” exclaimed Florence. “Juana uses that piece of iron to poke her fire with. Let’s hope she doesn’t decide to make tortillas any time soon, or she’ll miss the stone.”

Together they rushed out into the hall, then stopped on catching a glimpse of Felipe at his post just outside the office door.

“What in the world is he doing back?” whispered Peggy as she stopped. “Is Dr. Blackwell in his office, do you suppose?”

Slipping into the dining room, they stared blankly at each other. How could they get the things to Jo Ann now?

“I know what we can do!” exclaimed Florence, running to the china closet. “Put the stone on this plate.” She placed a plate on the table. “Now I’ll spread a napkin over it; then it’ll look as if you’re carrying a plate of sandwiches out on the balcony. I’ll hide the piece of iron under my dress, like this.”

“Fine!” approved Peggy, her lips curving into a wide smile.

On entering the hall Felipe appeared and explained that el doctor had sent him back to take the young ladies for a drive, as he would not need the car for one or two hours.

“I’ll ask the girls and let you know,” Peggy replied in Spanish, and added, “Call me when Juana brings the limeades.”

Peggy hastened onto the balcony and, resting the plate on the rail, whistled twice. As Jo peeped down from above, she called up gaily, her eyes twinkling, “Just see the plate of sandwiches I’ve brought you. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Well—yes, I could enjoy a sandwich,” Jo Ann replied, trying to cover her disappointment, “but didn’t you get any of the other things I asked for?”

“This is all we could find.” Laughing mischievously, Peggy lifted the napkin.

“Oh, Peg, you big tease!” Jo Ann exclaimed. “I might have known you were up to some mischief. Didn’t you bring the piece of iron or a broomstick?”

“Here it is,” called Florence, slipping the piece of iron out and holding it up.

“That’s the very thing—but why all the secrecy?”

“Well, Felipe was at the door, so I thought we’d better use this camouflage.”

“I see. I’ll let my rope down now; but how in the world are you going to fasten the rock to it, Peggy?”

“I don’t know,” Peggy replied thoughtfully. “Even if I tie the rope around it a couple of times, it’s likely to fall out, and a stone as large as this is heavy enough to kill anyone if it should hit him on the head.” She gave a little sudden start. “I know what to do!”

Spreading the napkin on the floor and placing the stone in the exact center, she picked up the opposite corners of the napkin and tied a tight square knot; then tied another one with the other corners. When she had slipped the rope under both securely, she heard Felipe coming in the office door.

She sprang to her feet while Florence ran into the office to keep him from coming onto the balcony.

“I’ll take the limeades, Felipe,” she told him, taking the tray he was carrying.

Instead of leaving immediately he lingered a moment to ask how long it would be before they would be ready to go for a drive.

For a few seconds she hesitated, then replied, “I think they’ll be ready in about half an hour.” Jo Ann had seemed so sure she could get down, but maybe—— “If they’re not ready by that time, I’ll let you know.”

As soon as he had left the office Florence hastened back to the balcony. By that time Jo Ann had successfully pulled the stone up to the roof and had lowered the rope for the iron bar.

The moment she had the piece of iron in her hands, she hopped off the low wall and eagerly set to work. Kneeling on the flat surface of the roof, she held the iron bar firmly against the inside of the wall with her left hand and struck it a heavy blow with the stone.

The next instant the iron bar sprang back, knocking the stone out of her hand and striking her foot a glancing blow.

“Oh—my foot!” she cried in muffled tones, hopping around the roof on the other foot.

“I can’t stop for a little thing like this,” she decided shortly, setting resolutely to work again.

Less confident of her success, she struck the iron lightly and carefully this time, but without making the slightest impress in the wall. Driving a peg into a stone wall was not the simple thing she had imagined it to be.

“I know it can be done, and I’m going to do it,” she told herself determinedly. “If I can only find the seam between the stones, I know I can drive it into the mortar.”

After slowly chipping the plaster away over a foot or more in diameter, she found an upright seam. Her arms ached from the unusual strain; her hands and face were covered with grime and plaster dust; and perspiration trickled down her face, streaking it.

Nevertheless, she worked on persistently and at last found the cross-seam. Eagerly placing the bar in position, she began driving it into the mortar between the stones. She struck it very carefully at first, then harder and harder.

“No wonder these houses last forever,” she thought. “I never saw anything so hard in my life. This one’ll stand here several centuries more and not show the least signs of wear.”

With a last effort she struck the iron several more blows; then, putting her whole weight on it to test its strength, she heaved a sigh of relief. It did not budge a particle. Fastening the rope securely, she threw the end over the wall. Everything was ready now.

While waiting for Florence and Peggy to return with the implements, she had tied several knots in the rope and made two loops near the upper end, and now, lying flat, she peered over the edge of the wall to see if the loops came in exactly the right place, just over the edge of the roof.

“All set! Here I come!” she called joyously to the girls waiting below.

“Oh, Jo, do be careful! You might fall,” urged Florence.

So intent was Jo Ann in getting over the edge of the roof that she paid no attention to Florence’s warning. Climbing over a wall two feet or more thick was quite a different proposition from getting over a board fence. She could not back off, and the smooth plaster offered a poor fingerhold while she was catching the loops in the rope.

Finally, sitting on the edge of the wall, she leaned forward and reached for the upper loop. Grasping the loop firmly with one hand and pressing the fingers of her other hand against the plaster, she stretched her foot toward the other loop. But when within an inch or two of it, she suddenly slipped off the wall.

She gasped in terror. Down she dropped. Her arm felt as if it surely would be pulled from its socket as the entire weight of her body jerked on it. Could she hang with one hand? What if the sudden jerk should pull the rope loose from the peg? Desperately she clung to the loop. Then, regaining her balance, she wrapped her legs around the rope. Slowly, carefully she slipped from knot to knot. Four strong young arms caught her before her feet touched the floor of the balcony.

“Oh, Jo! Jo! I thought you’d be killed, sure,” cried Florence, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was so frightened!”

“I was so scared I shut my eyes tight to keep from seeing you killed,” added Peggy tremulously. “I hope that taught you a lesson and you’ll be satisfied to stay where you belong after this.”

“Girls, look at the spectators!” exclaimed Florence the next moment.

In the street, about thirty feet below, several peons had stopped to watch this unusual performance, while others were running to see what was going on.

After one hasty glance below Jo Ann fled into the office.

“Can’t you do anything here without an audience?” she asked a moment later in disgust.

“Not anything like that,” replied Florence. “I do hope they leave before Felipe sees them, or he’ll have the whole story in a few minutes.”

“Anyway, I’m glad I’m down here.” Jo Ann drew a sigh of relief. “I hope I never have to stay so long in such a hot place again.”

CHAPTER VII
THE PROMENADE

“Jo, you’re hurt!” cried Florence. “Look at the blood.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” she replied. “I just left a little skin up there on the wall when I slipped, but it isn’t enough to worry about.” She stopped abruptly, then added, “Oh dear! I was in such a hurry to get down, I forgot and left your parasol up on the roof.”

“Well, let it stay there,” put in Florence quickly. “I’d rather lose the old parasol than have you climb up there again.”

“But I am going up there again,” announced Jo Ann emphatically. “If I can climb down the rope, there’s no reason why I can’t climb back up, is there?”

“N-o—I suppose not,” admitted Florence hesitatingly. “But Jo—you might get hurt—and——”

“Oh, but I know exactly how to fix that rope now so it won’t be so hard to get off the roof next time. I’ll pick a time of day when we won’t have so many spectators, for your sake, Florence.”

Peggy handed Jo Ann a glass of limeade, saying, “Drink this and stop talking about that next time. I’m afraid most of the ice has melted, but it’ll be cool and refreshing, anyway.”

Jo Ann reached over for the glass. “Nothing could be more appreciated right now, though I’m ’most too dirty to drink it.”

“You are a sight, all right,” laughed Peggy. “Soot—blood—dirt—all over your face and arms. We can scarcely tell what color you are. You look more like an Indian in full war paint than anything else.”

“For all my war paint, I’m really quite harmless. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.” Jo Ann sipped the cooling drink. “My, this tastes good! Driving that iron into the wall was harder work than I expected. I can easily understand why these houses are so old. Nothing short of an earthquake or a bomb could destroy them.”

“Here, I’ll take the glass if you’ve finished,” said Florence, placing it on the tray. “I’ll send Felipe down to the drugstore with these things, and that’ll give you a chance to slip to your room and get a bath and change your clothes. We’d better not let anyone see you like this.”

“Poor Florence!” laughed Jo Ann as Florence carried the tray to the door and gave it to Felipe. “Doesn’t she have a time trying to keep me from disgracing the family?”

“You are a problem sometimes,” agreed Peggy. “Especially when you get your head set on a thing. You seem to forget everything else then.”

“I heard what you said just now,” interrupted Florence coming over and putting her arm around Jo Ann as they started for their room. “I know you sometimes think I’m fussy, but there’re some queer customs here that we must recognize. You know the old saying: ‘When in Rome do as the Romans do.’”

Having reached their room, Peggy and Florence hastened to bring Jo Ann the necessary toilet articles for removing all traces of her escapade.

“Here, Jo, you’d better use this cleansing cream first,” said Peggy. “You’ll never get all that grime off without it. Wait, I’ll help you,” she added, rubbing some of the cream on her neck.

“Ouch! Be careful! You’re rubbing the skin off,” cried Jo Ann, dodging.

“Why, I’m not! I’m being just as careful as can be. You’re sunburned, that’s the trouble—you’re red as a beet.”

“You’re blistered!” added Florence. “Just look at your arms and face now that we’ve got some of the dirt off! I was afraid of that when you had to stay up there so long. You don’t know the penetrating qualities of a tropical sun.”

“I believe you look worse with the dirt off than you did with it on,” laughed Peggy. “What are we going to do with her, Florence?”

Florence shook her head dubiously. “I don’t know. If Daddy sees her like this we’ll have to explain what’s happened, and I don’t want to do that.”

“And I don’t want you to, either,” Jo Ann put in quickly. “I want to surprise him by solving the mystery of that window. He doesn’t seem to think there’s anything strange about it—he didn’t even look at it.”

“You must promise to be very careful, whatever you do,” Florence warned.

“Didn’t I just tell you, Jo, that sometimes you’re quite a problem?” added Peggy teasingly.

“You just wait till I’ve had my bath,” Jo Ann replied as she started out of the room. “When I finish dressing, I’ll look all right.”

When she returned a little later and preened herself triumphantly before them, Peggy burst into a peal of laughter.

“She looks exactly as if she’d stuck her head in the flour barrel and the flour had stuck in spots, doesn’t she?” she remarked to Florence.

“Well, her skin does look queer—a little like parchment or canvas,” reluctantly admitted the more polite Florence.

Jo Ann grimaced. “I like that—after all my efforts.”

“Let me fix your face,” offered Peggy. “I promise to touch your face as lightly as a butterfly touches a flower.”

“Listen to the poet!” scoffed Jo Ann.

“Poet and artist,” added Peggy, smiling widely. “Watch how skillfully this artist works on her canvas now.”

Lightly brushing most of the powder off Jo Ann’s face, she applied a generous amount of vanishing cream, then dusted it with just the right amount of powder so that enough of the red in her cheeks would show through to look natural.

When she had finished, she waved her powder puff with a flourish. “Behold the transformation from Indian to a member of the white race!”

“You really don’t look bad at all now, Jo Ann,” smiled Florence. “If you stay out of the bright light, I don’t believe anyone—not even Daddy—will notice how sunburned you are.”

“Is that the best you can say—to tell me I won’t look bad if I stay in the dark?” put in Jo Ann. “How’re you going to manage to keep me in the dark? If I stay in my room and don’t go to dinner tonight, your father’ll be sure to dose me with pills and tonics.”

“I’ll use candles on the dinner table tonight—I often do—and in their soft light your sunburn won’t be noticeable.”

To Jo Ann’s vast relief Dr. Blackwell did not make any comment about her complexion at dinner, even though Peggy teasingly hinted that she had taken unusual pains with her toilet this evening.

Unconscious of anything amiss, Dr. Blackwell asked pleasantly, “Are you girls going over to the Plaza tonight to join in the promenade?”

“Yes, I can hardly wait,” replied Peggy. “Florence told us about the promenade yesterday while we were driving around the Plaza.”

Dr. Blackwell exchanged glances with Florence, his eyes twinkling.

“I understand,” he chuckled, “that if you want to catch a suitor, all you have to do is pick out the young man you prefer, then throw him a rose as you pass. You can deliver your message by the color of the rose you use.”

“That’d be lots of fun,” replied Peggy laughingly. “Where’ll I get the rose, and what color shall I use?”

“Why, P-e-gg-y!” cried Jo Ann in consternation. “You wouldn’t really do a thing like that—would you?”

“If I should, I’d only be doing in Mexico as the Mexicans do—and that’s more than you’ve learned to do yet,” she finished, smiling teasingly at Jo Ann.

Jo Ann subsided instantly. A little more, and Dr. Blackwell might see through Peggy’s veiled remarks and begin asking questions about what she had been doing.

To her relief Peggy turned to Florence, saying, “Tell me some more about the why and wherefore of the rose-throwing custom”—her eyes sparkled—“so I can introduce it in the States for Jo’s benefit.”

Smilingly Florence explained that this was a very old custom but was seldom used now. “The Spanish girls and their caballeros have very few opportunities of meeting each other. When they pass on the promenade—you remember I told you how the girls all walk in one direction and the men in the other—they take advantage of this chance to say a few words or deliver a message.”

“If you’ve finished dinner, let’s sit out on the balcony a while with Dad before we go down to the Plaza. We can listen to the music and watch the crowds from there.”

The Plaza, which only a short time before had been almost deserted, began to present a festive appearance now. Clusters of electric lights shone, making it bright as day; lines of cars passed back and forth; and crowds thronged the broad promenade.

To Jo Ann it seemed as if the balcony were a box at the theater, and from it she was watching a play being enacted on an immense stage. The beautiful, exquisitely dressed girls, who arm in arm were slowly and gracefully strolling along on the outside of the promenade, were the actresses of the play; the caballeros, handsome and well groomed, passing on the inside and never losing an opportunity to bow and smile at the señoritas as they passed, were the actors; as for the background, there were the trees and shrubbery, and the benches filled with chaperons. All the time, the music, soft and rhythmical, was floating up to her—“the orchestra” she told herself, though she knew it was the notes of the wind instruments of the band that she was hearing.

Peggy broke into her thoughts just then with, “Can’t we go down there now? I’ve never seen anything quite like this before. I love it!”

“It is fascinating,” put in Jo Ann, “but we can really see better from here.”

“Oh, I know, but you miss half the fun up here,” Peggy replied quickly. “I want to promenade, too—be a part of the gaiety.”

“All right, we’ll go now,” said Florence. “Do you mind, Daddy, if we leave you?” she asked solicitously as she stooped to kiss his forehead.

“Of course not, my Florencita,” he replied, pinching her cheek affectionately. “Run along now and have a good time. Don’t forget, Miss Peggy, what I told you about catching a suitor,” he teased.

“All right, Doctor, I won’t,” she laughed, “and if I do anything to disgrace Florence, it’ll be all your fault.”

“I’ll take the consequences,” he returned lightly.

The three girls ran to their room a moment to add the finishing touches to their toilet, and for once Peggy was ready as soon as Jo Ann. All excitement, she caught Florence and Jo Ann by the arms to hurry them along.

“O-h, Peg—don’t! My arm’s sore!” cried Jo Ann, holding the injured arm away from her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Peggy sympathetically. “Your camouflage is so good I’d forgotten about your blisters. I’ll remember hereafter, and we’ll walk one on each side of you, so no one’ll bump into you and hurt you again.”

They crossed the street and joined the gay promenade around the Plaza.

While Peggy was enjoying looking at the crowds, Jo Ann kept glancing back across the street at the front of the building in which the Blackwells had their apartment. Since their entrance was on the side street she had never before had an opportunity to examine the front of the house closely. The lower floor, she saw, was occupied mostly by different kinds of stores.

Shortly after passing opposite the drugstore beneath Dr. Blackwell’s office, she noticed a broad-arched doorway about halfway down the block. As she gazed through this doorway and into the brightly lighted space beyond, she suddenly gave a little gasp of surprise.

“Isn’t that a patio I see through that big doorway across the street, Florence?” she asked.

“Yes; there’s a small patio there.”

“Then that explains it,” Jo Ann went on eagerly. “This afternoon while I was up on the roof I noticed a queer, oblong walled-in place right in the center of the building. I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time—I was so worried about getting off the roof, but I believe now that this wall must’ve been around the opening for that patio. I’m wondering if that patio wasn’t at one time a part of your house.”

Florence’s eyes opened in surprise. “What makes you think that?”

“Why, because there wasn’t a division wall between that oblong opening and your part of the house. If it were originally one big house with many rooms, that would explain the reason for the huge kitchen and the immense fireplace.”

“That sounds reasonable enough, but why would they have built such a large house—a casa grande, as they say in Spanish?”

“I don’t know, but that’s what it’s been—casa grande.”

“Oh, there you go again, talking about that house,” put in Peggy. “Let’s forget it and enjoy the promenade.”

“All right, I won’t say another word about it now, but as soon as we get back to the house, I’m going to look around and see if I can find something that will prove that I’m right.”

“You’re hopeless, Jo—the idea of thinking about an old house when there’s all this lovely music to listen to, and all these beautiful girls with their Paris gowns, and the handsome young men to see!”

After they had strolled around the square for over an hour, Jo Ann remarked a little impatiently, “Don’t you think we’ve walked long enough? I think it’s time we were going back to the house.”

“Oh, don’t let’s go back yet!” Peggy replied quickly. “Let’s stay till the concert’s over. That house’ll still be standing there—patio and all.”

“That won’t be long,” put in Florence. “The band’ll probably only play another piece or two. You can’t do any exploring about the house, anyway, Jo, till Daddy goes to his room,” she added.

So it was that they did not start homeward until the band had played the last number and the crowds were leaving.

After reaching the house the girls talked for a few moments with Dr. Blackwell, then went on to their room. It was not long afterward that Jo Ann’s keen ears caught the clanging sound of metal as Dr. Blackwell bolted the outer door. She waited impatiently a little longer, then slipped out into the hall, and silently stood at the head of the stairway, trying to figure out how these rooms had been connected with the patio and the other part of the house.

“I know that patio is in about the center of the house,” she thought. “Then this wall opposite me would be in a direct line with the patio.”

Since she could not see distinctly in the dim rays of the night light, she turned on a brighter one, and tilting it upward, threw its rays directly on the wall opposite.

To her disappointment she could see nothing but the plain surface of the plastered wall.

“This hall must’ve been connected in some way with that patio,” she told herself. “There’s bound to be something somewhere to show how it was connected.”

Tilting the light first at one angle and then another, she gazed at the wall intently, searching for some sign of a former opening.

All at once she caught a glimpse of the dim, shadowy outlines of a broad arch.

Tiptoeing to the bedroom door, she called softly, “Girls, come here quickly! I’ve found it—I knew I was right!”

Quickly she led Peggy and Florence to the spot in which she had been standing, and again tilting the light, pointed to the wall.

“Don’t you see the outlines of an arch over there?” she asked, as she threw the rays of the light back and forth across the wall.

“Your imagination’s running away with you, Jo,” scoffed Peggy. “I can’t see a thing but a blank wall.”

“I do see something—a faint shadow,” put in Florence slowly. “Why, Jo! I do believe you’re right! There was an arch there.”

“Sure I’m right,” declared Jo Ann triumphantly. “This arch is the end of a wide hall that connected this back hall with the patio and the rest of the house. I believe your father’s office was the dining room. Can’t you just imagine a long banquet table down the center of that huge room and——”

“But why would they have such a huge dining room?” Florence asked quickly. “What could the house have been used for?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to find out.” Jo Ann’s chin took on a determined tilt. “Maybe I can find something in Señor Rodriguez’s books that will help me to solve the problem. I believe that mysterious window has something important to do with it—at least, that’s the way it looks to me.”

“Sh! Not so loud, Jo; you’ll wake Daddy.”

Quietly the three girls slipped back to their room to talk far into the night about the unexplained mysteries of the old house.

CHAPTER VIII
THE SEÑOR’S LIBRARY

In spite of all the ointment and salve Jo Ann had applied to her face, neck, and arms, she spent a restless night. By morning some of the soreness had disappeared, but her appearance was not much improved. Before venturing out of her room she carefully put on some make-up and viewed the effect critically in the mirror.

“I may be able to cover up my sunburn from the servants, but not from Dr. Blackwell,” she told herself. “His trained eyes’ll be sure to penetrate my mask in the daylight. Here’s hoping he doesn’t eat lunch with us today. Florence says he’s nearly always late.”

To her inward consternation, no sooner had she stepped into the hall than she saw Dr. Blackwell coming toward her. Immediately she slowed her steps. “If he comes any closer. I’m sunk—even if this hall is dark.”

The next moment Dr. Blackwell called a cheerful “Good morning” to her and disappeared into his office.

Jo Ann smiled in relief as she thought whimsically, “A guilty conscience is certainly a bad companion.”

As on the previous morning, she and Peggy went with Florence to market, and, as before, she made only one purchase. This time it was a roll of very slender but strong hand-twisted rope.

“Now what are you going to do with that heavy cord?” Peggy promptly asked.

“Use it to conceal that big rope I left hanging from the roof.”

“Use a string to conceal a heavy rope?” Peggy asked in amazement. “Ah, the magician!” she added mockingly.

“Don’t be silly, Peg. There’s nothing mysterious about it. I’ve got to do something with that big rope before anyone sees it.”