CAPTAIN CORNELL INVESTIGATES.
Indeed, Captain Cornell had heard, and he immediately moved into place
at the gate beside Bob and began asking excited questions in Spanish.
Was it a man or a woman who screamed? A man? Oh, and the Captain’s face
betrayed disappointment. Mere mention of the fact that a scream had
shattered the midnight quiet in this remote quarter had aroused his
sense of the romantic to a point where, with nothing else to go on, he
had imagined the beginnings of a pretty mystery centering about a damsel
in distress.
What a come-down to find not a woman but a man had screamed! Still he
was an incorrigible romanticist. His imagination leaped to other
possibilities. He shot other questions at the boy. There had been a
fight, not so? Shots had been fired? The Mexican police had appeared on
the scene?
But to all these questions the boy shook his head by way of reply. No,
nothing. Only that first blood-curdling scream, such a scream as made
the hair stand on end. He, Juan Salazar, was his mother’s sole defender.
He had therefore not deemed it advisable to leave the house defenceless
and go to investigate. And at that statement, both Bob and Captain
Cornell found it difficult to repress their smiles. But they managed to
do so and thus avoided giving the boy deadly offense. On the contrary,
continued the boy, he had withdrawn indoors, barred the door and put out
his light in order not to call attention to his house, in case—in case——
Captain Cornell came to the youth’s rescue with a grave nod.
“That was the right thing to do.”
“But, oh, the senor must believe me,” said the boy. “It was a terrible
scream.”
Bob and the flyer looked at each other. “Couldn’t have been Don
Ferdinand,” said Bob. “He didn’t disappear until this morning. At least,
it was only a few hours ago that we got his telegram.”
“Mind reader,” accused the flyer. “That’s just what I was thinking of.
But—then who was it?”
“Don’t ask me,” said Bob. And then a daring light came into his eyes.
“What do you say to our making an investigation?”
“Huh. How?”
“Why—why—I don’t know. How would you go about it? Just mosey up to the
door and say to whoever comes: ‘Who made that noise last night?’”
The flyer gave a short laugh. “We’d get far, wouldn’t we?”
“Well, we might go up to the front door and ask to see Don Ferdinand.
Just say we noticed his car in the street and dropped in to see him.”
“Huh.” The flyer grunted disgustedly. “You’ll have to do better than
that.”
“Well, then, think of something yourself,” said Bob. “What’s the matter
with that last idea, anyhow? We’ve got—no, by George, I haven’t any
weapon. But you’ve got your service automatic. I know, because you
pulled it out back there outside the bull ring. We’d certainly take ’em
by surprise, and something might come of it.”
Captain Cornell shook his head pityingly. “You’ve been out in this sun
too long, old man,” he said.
While this semi-humorous conversation had been going on, the Mexican boy
had withdrawn a short distance and stood with his hands thrust into his
pockets and his eyes bent toward the ground in thoughtful contemplation.
Now he looked up and glancing toward Bob said:
“The Americano might like to know that there is something strange about
that house. I found it out by accident one day. On that street
beyond”—pointing toward the lane on which the two Americans had
abandoned their commandeered car—“there is a deserted house. It is only
a poor sort of place of ’dobe. But one day I saw a man come out of it,
carefully, looking around as if to make sure he was not observed. So,
then, I happened to pass that house later and, seeing that it was a time
when nobody was in sight, I tried the door. It was open, and I went in.
There, senor, I found a trap door which I opened. Beneath it were steps.
I even went down them and found at the foot a tunnel. Senor, it was
really none of my business, so I did not investigate farther. But that
tunnel leads to the house of the Japanese.”
“Hey? How do you know?” barked Captain Cornell.
Conscious that he held their interest, the boy regarded the flyer with a
superior air. Then he unbent. What good was it to possess a secret, if
you couldn’t share it?
“Oh, senor, that is not difficult,” he said. “The man who came out of
the door of the little house was a man I had seen entering the house of
the Japanese. He is of my race, and he has a crooked nose and a limp of
the right leg. I could not be mistaken.”
“Ramirez,” ejaculated Bob, and Captain Cornell nodded.
“You know this man?” asked the boy quickly.
“Yes,” said Bob hastily, “we know of him. He is a rascal.”
As for Captain Cornell, he appeared to be lost in thought. After a long
moment he turned to Bob. “Well, we’re on the track of something, that’s
sure. Let’s walk up to the corner and see if the car we followed is
still there. Then we can talk it over. Guess, we’ve learned all we can
from this kid.”
Bob nodded, and turning to the Mexican lad he again dropped a warm word
about radio, promising to return some time and examine the boy’s
apparatus. The lad beamed, his earlier offended state forgotten. Then
Bob and the flyer walked briskly toward the distant street intersection,
a long block away.
“What do you make of this?” Bob asked. “This house owned by a
Japanese—with lots of other Japanese there—people driving away at
night—the secret passage—that scream last night?”
“I don’t know,” confessed the flyer. “I’m beginning to get the
glimmerings of a vague suspicion. Not all we have learned, however, fits
in with it.”
“What is it?” pressed Bob.
“Not worth mentioning yet,” said the flyer. “But here’s the corner. Now
for a look—see.” And halting at the edge of a building on the corner, he
peered around it and along the length of the thoroughfare down which
they had jounced and jolted not long before.
Bob likewise stole a glance from shelter, chuckling as he did so.
“We must look like a couple of conspirators in a melodrama,” he said,
“pussyfooting up to the corner and then poking our heads out this way.
Good thing everybody’s gone to the bull fight or we’d rouse somebody’s
suspicions and, maybe, have the place down about our ears. But there
isn’t a soul to see us. The place is like a village of the dead.”
Little enough, however, was there to see. The long street was deserted
as far as the eye could rove. It lay baking under the late afternoon
sun, and the only object of interest anywhere apparent was what they had
looked to find—the handsome car midway down the block.
“Calle Lebertad,” read a battered and defaced street sign on a post on
the opposite side of the street. Doubtless, a similar sign appeared on
the post ahead of them on their corner, but, as it faced outward, they
could not note it. Bob called the flyer’s attention to the sign,
remarking that at least they now knew what street the mysterious house
stood on.
“A lotta good that does us,” said Captain Cornell, slangily, in disgust.
“I’d like to get closer to that house, Bob. I have a hunch we might
overhear something.”
“So would I?” Bob promptly agreed. “I’ll bet Don Ferdinand is in there,
and I’d like to get him out.”
“Not much chance of that right now,” said the flyer. He was silent,
thinking. Finally he gave a decisive little nod. “By George, it’s better
than doing nothing.”
“What is? Shall we have a try at storming the place?”
“No, of course not. But I think I’ll take a stroll down the street.
Maybe I’ll hear something. The house is isolated. It’s probably open on
account of this heat. If people are talking inside, I may catch a hint
of what’s going on.”
“You’ll take a stroll?” said Bob. “Why not ‘we’?”
“No, I’ll go alone. Best not to put our eggs in one basket. Besides if
by any chance, somebody jumps me, I’ve got a gun and can defend myself.
You haven’t.”
“Huh. Guess I can swing a mean fist.”
The flyer grinned. “Nothing doing. I’ve got charge of this expedition,
and orders are that you stay here and watch me. Besides, if I get into
trouble, you’ll be free to bring aid, while if you were along and we
both were done in—just supposing the worst that might happen—where would
your friends look for us?”
Bob grumbled, only half-convinced.
“I’ll stroll around the block and join you here again,” said the flyer.
“Nothing’s going to happen. Really, there’s not much sense in my going,
only I do feel that there’s a chance of learning something. In case
anything does happen to me, hop back to our stolen flivver and light out
for Laredo and when you get near the Bridge abandon the car so that you
won’t be stopped in case the owner has sent out a police warning. We’ll
square accounts for that car later. Cross the Bridge and go to the
nearest telephone and call the Border Patrol. Ask for Captain Murray.
Remember that name, Murray. Tell him what’s what, and he’ll attend to
the rest. And don’t by any chance make the mistake of trying to come to
my rescue single-handed, because without a gun you’d be a goner. And
you’d be throwing away my chance, too. I don’t think anything’s going to
happen, but if it does, I want to be sure you’ll stick to that plan. How
about it?”
“Oh, all right,” said Bob, ungraciously. “I’ll do as you say. Only you
must see that it doesn’t give me a chance for action.”
“That remains to be seen. If you should have to call for Murray, you’ll
have to be his guide. And that would bring you action a-plenty.”
“Wouldn’t he be out of luck, invading a foreign country?” asked Bob,
curiously.
“Leave that to him. Anyway, what are we doing?”
“Oh, we’re just acting on our own,” said Bob. “That’s different.”
“Not much. Well, so long. See you in a couple of minutes.”
“So long,” answered Bob. “And the best of luck.”
Thereupon Captain Cornell strolled nonchalantly around the corner, and
set off at the dawdling pace of the loafer, toward the house of mystery
and the car of midnight blue.