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.”
The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 85
