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.”