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.”
Peggy shook her head dubiously. “Well, I hope you know what you’re
talking about—I don’t. Here comes Florence—she must be ready to leave.”
“And the faithful watchdog following, as usual. You know, I believe he’s
getting suspicious. Several times I’ve noticed him looking at me with the
queerest expression.”
“You know Florence said he never misses a thing. He’s probably wondering
what you’ve done to your face.”
On reaching home the girls found breakfast waiting, but Jo Ann could
scarcely eat in her eagerness to get to the balcony before Felipe cleaned
the office.
While Florence went to the kitchen to discuss menus with Juana, Jo Ann
and Peggy slipped to the balcony. The rope, they found, was hanging just
as they had left it the day before, and while not very conspicuous
against the dull gray color of the wall, Jo Ann felt that it ought to be
put completely out of sight. As she studied the wall, she unwound the
roll of heavy cord she had bought earlier in the morning.
“Look down the street, Peg,” she ordered. “Do you see anybody?”
“No, it seems practically deserted right now,” Peggy replied. “Why?”
“I have to climb part way up that rope again, and I don’t want any
spectators,” she explained while fastening the cord to the end of the
rope. “If you see anybody coming, let me know.”
“All right.”
As soon as she began climbing up the rope, Jo Ann realized how sore her
muscles were from the unusual strain she had put upon them the day
before. Would she be able to make it to the top? she wondered. “I’ve got
to do it,” she told herself the next moment, tightening her lips into a
firm line.
Inch by inch she pulled herself up, slipping the cord through each of the
loops in the rope as she went. On reaching the roof she found it
extremely difficult to steady herself while passing the cord through the
highest loops, but as she was determined to pull the rope up as high as
possible, she kept on trying. Having succeeded at last in getting it
through the loop at the roof’s edge, she took the end of the cord between
her teeth and began to slip slowly down the rope.
When she was a little over halfway, Peggy suddenly cried, “Hurry, Jo!
Here come some people! I believe they see you—they’re looking this way.
Hurry!”
Instinctively Jo Ann turned her head to see the people. As she did so,
her elbow scraped the rough plastered wall. A sharp pain instantly shot
through her arm, and slightly loosening her hold on the rope, she slipped
rapidly to the floor.
“How silly of me to do that!” she grumbled, examining her arm. Her
sleeve, she saw, was torn, and blood was running from a place where the
skin had been scraped off. “It looks as if I’ll have to be packed in
cotton wool to keep from getting hurt—but this is not finishing my work,
and Felipe may come out here any minute.”
Hurriedly she searched for an inconspicuous place to fasten the end of
the cord. Finally noticing the hand-wrought hinge on the door, she
decided that this offered a good hiding place.
She began at once to wind the cord into a small tight ball, and as she
pulled the end of the cord, the heavy rope attached to it started to
crawl snakelike up the wall. When at last the rope hung in several long
loops at the edge of the roof, she fastened the cord to the door hinge
and jammed the ball into the crack above.
“That’ll be all right as long as the door isn’t closed,” she said, “and
it seldom is—at least, it hasn’t been closed since we’ve been here. It
doesn’t show much from here, and it can’t be seen from the inside of the
office.”
Leaning against the balcony rail, she and Peggy surveyed the wall
approvingly. The string was almost invisible, and the loops of rope at
the top were scarcely noticeable, so high were they above the street.
“No one would ever see that unless they were looking for it,” agreed
Peggy. “But how’re you going to get it down? Didn’t you say you were
going back up there?”
“Sure I am, but that’s simple enough,” Jo Ann replied. “When I loosen the
string the rope is heavy enough to drop down of its own accord.”
Hearing a sudden noise behind them just then, they started guiltily.
There stood Felipe in the doorway. Immediately Jo Ann wondered how long
he had been there and how much he had seen.
“I’m glad he couldn’t understand what we were talking about,” she said to
Peggy. “He’s the perfect watchdog, all right.”
Smiling now as they realized how nearly they had come to giving
themselves away, they strolled nonchalantly around the balcony and
entered the room from the farther side.
“You want to clean the room?” Jo Ann asked, pointing to the broom and
mop.
Felipe grinned and nodded his head, “_Sí_, señorita.” While not
understanding the exact words, he had understood their meaning.
Could Peggy and Jo Ann have seen him a few minutes later, they would have
been very much amused and not a little worried. The minute they were out
of sight he stepped out on the balcony and stood gazing up and down the
street, then turned and searched the balcony, but in vain.
“_Muy curioso, las Americanas_ [Very curious, these Americans],” he
muttered, shaking his head.
After the injured arm had been bandaged with Peggy’s assistance, the
girls wandered to the back of the house in search of Florence. Finding
her in the kitchen in the middle of baking a cake, they stayed to help
her.
To Jo Ann’s relief Dr. Blackwell did not appear at lunch, but when he
came in an hour later, she happened to be passing through the hall. On
seeing her Dr. Blackwell stopped to call to her that he had met Señor
Rodriguez and that the Señor had sent a special invitation to her and the
other girls to visit his library that afternoon. “Does that conflict with
your plans?” he asked.
“Not at all,” Jo Ann answered quickly, forgetting all about her sunburned
face. “I’ve wanted to meet Señor Rodriguez and talk to him ever since you
told me about his library. Maybe I can find out more about your house and
the old church this afternoon.”
The moment Dr. Blackwell left she remembered her previous anxiety about
his seeing her sunburned face. “I forgot all about my face,” she smiled
to herself. “Well, I’m going to Señor Rodriguez’s this afternoon, sunburn
or no sunburn. Surely in such a fine library as his I can get some
information that’ll help me find out more about this house, especially
about that mysterious window.”
When, after the siesta, the girls began getting ready to go to Señor
Rodriguez’s, Peggy applied cream and powder to Jo Ann’s face with the
most painstaking care.
“I believe I’ll start a beauty shop,” she declared as she stood back and
gazed approvingly at Jo Ann’s face. “You actually look pretty now.”
Jo Ann grinned. “Only a real artist could have performed that miracle. I
don’t care much about the pretty part, though. All I want is to pass
muster under Dr. Blackwell’s inspection.”
“You will—don’t worry.”
Dressed in fresh dainty frocks, the three girls were waiting on the
balcony when Dr. Blackwell drove up in the car to take them to Señor
Rodriguez’s.
Since Florence had told her about the Señor’s beautiful patio, Jo Ann
gazed eagerly about when they entered the cool, spacious corridor of his
house. The mosaic tiles of the floor seemed to her to reflect all the
bright colors of the flowers in the beds beyond and of the potted plants
clustered about the stone pillars which supported the graceful arches of
the court.
The servant immediately ushered them into the _sala_ or drawing room, a
room of immense size and well-proportioned lines. Several large mirrors
in heavy, gold-leaf frames, she noted, filled much of the wall space and
gave the room the appearance of even greater size. The full-length double
windows next caught and held her attention, curtained as they were with
exquisite hand-made lace, which contrasted strangely with the iron bars.
The next moment their host and his wife entered: Señora Rodriguez, short,
plump, and motherly, and the Señor, tall and distinguished-looking.
At first glance Jo Ann’s hopes sank. How could she ask this austere,
dignified gentleman all of the questions which had been uppermost in her
mind? Was the visit she had looked forward to with so much pleasure going
to be in vain? Since the introductions were in Spanish, she felt a little
ill at ease—all the more so when she saw Señora Rodriguez kiss Florence,
first on one cheek, then on the other, and pat her on the back.
“If she kisses and pats me that enthusiastically on my sunburned skin,
I’ll be sure to flinch,” she told herself.
The next moment Señor Rodriguez turned to her and, smiling, asked in
broken English, “Are you de young lady who speak de Spanish?”
“Oh, no, señor, I can’t speak Spanish,” she answered timidly.
“_El doctor_ say you have study de Spanish,” he insisted.
“_Sí_, señor, I studied Spanish two years,” she replied, “but I speak
very little.”
“Ah, my dear young lady,” he said pleasantly, “if you do not try, how can
you learn? You must speak to me in de Spanish. You see, my Ingles ver’
bad. I am too old to learn de Ingles now.”
“Oh, no, señor,” quickly replied Jo Ann. “You speak very good English.
Much better English than I do Spanish.”
“_Gracias_, señorita,” he replied, smiling. “But how can I know?—you have
not speak de Spanish. My son, Joaquin, speak de Ingles perfect-ly. I send
him to college in de States. You know—Harvard—I t’ink you call it?” he
asked, pronouncing it Arvard, since the h is always silent in Spanish.
“Oh, yes, indeed! I know Harvard. It is a college of very high standing.
Does he like it there?”
“_Sí_, he likes it ver’ much. Dis year he finis, den he come home, and I
take him in de office wid me. If he vas here now he could help you. De
doctor say you are interes’ in de history of my city.”
“_Sí_, señor, I am,” she answered quickly. “I want to find out all I can
about that old church across the street from Dr. Blackwell’s house. Both
it and the house are so old, I feel sure there must be some very
interesting things connected with them.”
“I t’ink you are right, and I shall be ver’ happy to assist you,” he
offered. “We feel proud to t’ink you are interes’ in our city. Did you
not want some books?”
“I’d like to see some that contain old records and accounts of the early
history of the city, about the time that church was built.”
“If you come dis way, please,” he said, bowing, “we shall see what we can
find.”
By this time Jo Ann had completely forgotten the feeling of doubt and awe
she had felt at first. The Señor was a very gracious host and had not
laughed at her strange idea. Eagerly she followed him across the hall to
a room only slightly smaller than the drawing room. Bookshelves lined
most of the wall space, and a long table and several chairs were the only
furniture.
“It’s decidedly a man’s room,” she thought: “restful—quiet—just the kind
of a room in which to study.”
Soon she and the Señor were oblivious of everything. They had something
in common—books—even if they were in Spanish. In a short time they were
chatting pleasantly, unconsciously using a mixture of English and
Spanish. Together they searched old books and records, laying aside
several for her to take home so that she might study them at her leisure.
In the meantime, Señora Rodriguez had taken the other guests to the patio
to see her flowers, and after about half an hour she came to the library
door and called softly to her husband, “Papa, you must not keep the young
lady here so long—she will get tired.” Addressing Jo Ann she asked,
“Perhaps you like to see my flowers, eh?”
“I’d love to,” replied Jo Ann, unconscious of having spoken in Spanish.
“We have the _merienda_ first, then I show you the flowers,” she said,
leading Jo Ann to where the girls and Dr. Blackwell were seated in the
cool pleasant court beside the flower garden.
“What could be more beautiful and restful?” Jo Ann thought as she gazed
across the patio with its stuccoed wall overhung with flowering vines,
its fountain tossing sparkling sprays of water into the sunshine, and its
roses, jasmine, and orange blossoms filling the air with their mingled
fragrance.
By this time the servants had noiselessly brought in the refreshments and
placed them on an exquisitely inlaid tea table. While Señora Rodriguez
passed rich little cakes and sweet buns with squares of _jalea_, a stiff
jelly, the servants served thick black coffee and delicious, rich
chocolate beaten to a froth.
“Jo, isn’t this simply gorgeous!” sighed Peggy happily. “I’ve never
enjoyed anything more in my life.”
Jo Ann nodded an emphatic assent, adding, “And I’ve never seen such a
beautiful patio before.”
After Señora Rodriguez had proudly shown Jo Ann her flowers, Dr.
Blackwell announced that he had several calls yet to make and that they
would have to leave. Silently the girls rose to go. With true Mexican
courtesy Señora Rodriguez loaded them down with flowers and kissed each
girl on both cheeks, but to Jo Ann’s relief there was no patting on the
back.
Laden with books and flowers, they drove home through the soft, tropical
twilight, Peggy and Jo Ann completely charmed by the dignity and
friendliness of the Rodriguez family.
“I’ve never met finer people,” declared Jo Ann enthusiastically to
Florence on their way home. “I admit I was a little afraid of the Señor
at first. He was so tall and dignified, but I forgot all about that when
I’d talked to him a few minutes. It’s easy to understand why he’s such a
good lawyer, isn’t it?”
“Yes, he’s a very remarkable man,” agreed Florence. “I was sure you would
enjoy meeting him and his wife. By the way, Jo, did you get any
information this afternoon that will help you?”
“Yes, I found out several things,” she replied. “From the old records we
found that the city was founded in 1560. The Señor said that the old
Mexican towns were always built around the church. That and the Plaza
formed the hub around which the city grew. If that is the case, then it
is possible that the church was built even earlier than 1560, before the
founding of the city.”
“You mean that the church is three—no, four hundred years old!” exclaimed
Peggy.
“Yes, and since Florence’s house is between it and the Plaza, it was
built at the same time or before. It seems to be the very center of the
hub. I’m more convinced than ever that its history is in some way
connected with that of the church.”
After Dr. Blackwell had gone on his calls and Florence and Peggy were
chatting together, Jo Ann studied the books she had brought home. Page
after page she read, slowly and with much difficulty, about the Aztecs
and the coming of Cortez; of the growth of the Spanish territory until it
reached from ocean to ocean, and from Panama to Vancouver Island on the
north; about Hidalgo, Morelos, and General Iturbide; of rebellions and
civil wars. The wars might explain the reason for these thick walls, she
mused. They always used the church as a place of refuge. Perhaps this
house was used for the same purpose.
To her disappointment, however, she could find no reference to either the
house or the church in the books. She threw down the books at last,
exclaiming, “It’ll take me ages to get much help from these! It’s worse
than hunting a needle in a haystack. In Spanish they go all around the
bush before coming to the point, and while it’s beautiful to read, it’s
difficult to find what you want.”
“Calm yourself, my dear—calm yourself,” said the astonished Peggy.
“You’ve been talking for days about these books, and now that you have
them, you go all up in the air. What a changeable person you are!”
“I’m not changeable. I’m glad I have the books, and I’m going to study
them—very carefully, too, but I can’t stand this suspense any longer. I
want to find out something definite about this house _right now_. I know
exactly how to get the information I want, and I’m going to get it—maybe
tomorrow. I’m almost tempted to do it this very night.”
“What are you talking about?” cried Florence, alarmed by the determined
expression on Jo Ann’s face. “What wild thing are you planning to do?”