Senhora de Feira sat in a straight-backed side chair on the left of the fireplace. A small, round reading table, topped by an ornate lamp, stood to the right of the chair. “I’m sorry if the house seems chilly to you,” she apologized. “This house is always a bit cold.”
“It’s fine,” Frank said hurriedly, realizing his and Joe’s slightly cautious behavior might have seemed rude to Senhora de Feira. “This is just such a beautiful fireplace—I couldn’t resist looking at it more closely.”
“Thank you. Won’t you please join me?” Senhora de Feira motioned to a sofa that faced her chair. “I’ll have some good Portuguese coffee sent in.” She pulled a cord at the side of the table. “Actually, we use Brazilian coffee, but Brazil was settled by the Portuguese—as I’m sure you know—so I still refer to it as Portuguese coffee.”
Senhora de Feira smiled, though Frank thought her smile seemed forced. She then turned to face the fire, and for several moments she seemed totally lost in her own thoughts.
Frank was beginning to feel even more uncomfortable than before, and was thinking that he and Joe should come up with an excuse to leave, but he knew that if they were going to succeed in finding Frau Rilke’s suitcase with the gold bars, they’d probably need Senhora de Feira’s help. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
For once in his life Joe had nothing to say either, so the three of them sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the crackling fire. Finally a maid walked in with the coffee and broke the quiet.
The arrival of the coffee seemed to break Senhora de Feira’s trance. “Oh, wonderful, wonderful!” she said.
The maid set the coffee service on a buffet, poured three small cups of coffee, and served everyone.
“Un garoto,” Senhora de Feira said. “With milk. I hope you don’t mind. It’s a wonderful treat, I think.”
“It looks delicious,” Frank said.
Joe nodded.
They both took a couple of sips. It was much stronger than either one of them liked, but they were determined to finish it to be polite.
“Now then, tell me all about my dear Brigette,” Senhora de Feira said. “Please don’t leave anything out.”
Joe started the story. He told her how they had asked Catarina Otero to teach them some Portuguese and how when they went to her birthday party to hear some of the language being spoken, they had heard Frau Rilke’s story.
“We told her we’d try to find the suitcase with the gold bars so she could help her family through their financial problems,” Frank finished. “That’s why we . . .”
“Ah, yes, the suitcase with the gold bars,” Senhora de Feira said, her eyes gleaming. “I remember that story as if Brigette had told it to me yesterday.” She paused for several seconds, turned to stare at the fireplace, then turned back to look at the Hardys. “Her father buried it in a park, but there are so many parks in Lisbon that it would be impossible to dig them all up.” She smiled. “Did she perhaps tell you in which park we—I mean, you—should look?”
The question took Joe by surprise. He glanced over at Frank, who was still looking at Senhora de Feira. “Well, no, she didn’t,” he said. “I think—”
“As a matter of fact,” Frank interrupted him, “we were sort of hoping that you might have an idea about which park we should check out.”
Senhora de Feira’s face sagged noticeably. It was obvious to Joe that she had been hoping to find out that information from them.
For several minutes she said nothing, alternately staring at the fireplace and the two boys.
All of a sudden she rose from her chair. “It just occurred to me that I was supposed to call a friend of mine about dinner tomorrow,” she said. “Please excuse me. I shan’t be long.” With that Senhora de Feira left the room.
“What do you think?” Joe whispered to Frank.
“I don’t feel good about any of this,” Frank replied.
“Me neither,” Joe said. “But what are we going to do?”
Frank shrugged. “Did you notice when I mentioned the problems that Frau Rilke’s family is having, Senhora de Feira didn’t even respond?” he asked. “All she seemed concerned about was the gold.”
Joe nodded. “She said she could remember the story very well,” he said, “but I think she remembers it because it’s been on her mind all these years.”
“I think you’re right, and that bothers me,” Frank agreed. “She almost seemed, well, greedy about it.”
“We did learn one thing,” Joe said. “Senhora de Feira doesn’t know that the gold is buried in the backyard across the street. She really does think it’s buried in one of Lisbon’s parks. Do you think we should tell her that it’s not?”
Frank thought for a minute. “If we put ourselves in her place, maybe we’d want some of the gold too.” He looked around. “At first I thought this place was really elegant, but now I think it’s probably seen better days. It’s beginning to look kind of shabby.”
“That could be the reason why it’s so dark in here,” Joe said. “Maybe Senhora de Feira is ashamed of how the house looks.”
“That has to be it, Joe—that’s why she’s so interested in the gold. Her family probably needs money too,” Frank said. “But what choice do we have? We can’t just go back across the street and start digging in Senhora Bragança’s backyard. We could show Senhora de Feira the map and ask her advice on how we could . . .”
Before he could finish his sentence, however, Senhora de Feira returned to the room. “I’m glad that’s taken care of,” she said, sitting back down in her chair. “I’m getting so forgetful these days. Now where were we?”
“You were a very special friend of Frau Rilke’s,” Joe said. “She trusted you so much that she told you about the gold—so we thought that perhaps you could help us find it and, once we recover it, get it back to the United States.”
Senhora de Feira laughed. “You must not have been listening when I was talking to you earlier,” she said. “We have no way of knowing in which park the gold is buried.”
“Actually, Frau Rilke gave us a map that shows the location,” Joe said.
Senhora de Feira gasped and clutched at her throat. “Oh, please let me see it!” she managed to say.
Just as Joe started to reach inside his coat pocket three young men came into the room. They were dressed much like the men whom Frank and Joe had seen earlier on their way into Lisbon—the men whom Inspector Oliveira had referred to as fascists. One was holding a leash with a snarling Doberman at the end of it.
Startled, the Hardy boys jumped up from the sofa.
“What’s going on here?” Frank asked.
“My sons,” Senhora de Feira announced. “Paulo, Antonio, and Rafael.”
The three men nodded at the Hardy boys and walked into the room.
“This is Frank and Joe Hardy from America,” Senhora de Feira said. “They’re friends of Brigette Fleissner, and they’ve come here to take her suitcase of gold bars back with them.”
At that, Senhora de Feira’s sons grinned.
“How do they propose to do that?” Paulo asked.
For a moment the room was quiet. Suddenly Senhora de Feira looked curiously at Frank and Joe. “Boys, Paulo asked you a question. Why are you so nervous?”
“It’s the uniforms,” Frank said. “Our father’s friend, Inspector Oliveira of the Lisbon Police Department, said that only members of fascist groups wear them.”
Paulo, Antonio, and Rafael laughed.
“We’re in a play about a fascist group,” Antonio said. “That’s why we’re dressed this way.”
“Yes, that’s why,” Rafael agreed.
Frank could tell that they were lying, but he also knew that if he and Joe planned to get out of there alive, he couldn’t let the sons know what he was thinking. “Oh. Well, I wish you a lot of success with the play,” he said. “Maybe we’ll try to see it before we go back home.”
“Right,” Joe said. “Maybe you could tell us where
we can get tickets?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ll get tickets for you,” Paulo said. “But we’d like to hear more about Brigette Fleissner. Mother has really missed her.”
Senhora de Feira nodded. “You said she gave you a map of where the suitcase is buried,” she said. “Would you please show it to us?”
Joe withdrew his hand from his pocket. “I can’t believe this—I must have left it at the hotel!” he said. “I guess Frank and I will just have to go back there and get it.”
“Perhaps you should look in one of your other pockets,” Antonio suggested. “Maybe you forgot where you put it.”
Frank glanced quickly around the room. He and Joe were trapped.
5 Intruder in the Dark
* * *
Joe looked over at Frank. “Ets-lay am-scray!” he said.
Frank grinned. Pig Latin, he thought. Perfect! “Ood-gay an-play, other-bray!” he said to Joe.
“What are you saying?” Antonio demanded. “Speak English!”
“Or Portuguese!” Paulo added. “We don’t know that language!”
“Oo-tay ad-bay!” Joe said. He leaned forward on the sofa, as if preparing to run a race. “Ow-nay!”
Frank got the message. He shot off the sofa a split second behind Joe.
Before Senhora de Feira and her sons realized what was happening, Frank and Joe were almost to the front door of the de Feira house.
Behind them they heard the de Feiras shouting and the Doberman barking.
Joe reached the door first. He turned the large iron knob to open the door.
Frank, right behind him, ran out and shut it behind him, just as the Doberman reached it. The dog squealed in pain as it crashed into the thick wood.
Frank and Joe raced down the porch steps and out to the street.
“I hope there’s a crowd of people at the tram station,” Joe shouted to Frank. “Safety in numbers!”
Frank knew he was right. He didn’t think the de Feira brothers would threaten them if there were other people around.
When they were two blocks away from the de Feira house, Joe looked over his shoulder. He was surprised to see that nobody was coming after them. Cautiously he slowed down.
Frank, noticing that Joe had decreased his pace, turned and looked behind them. “I wonder where they are,” he said.
Now the two of them were jogging at a more leisurely pace.
“I don’t know,” Joe said. “They might be following us on a parallel street.”
“Or they might not be following us at all,” Frank said. Now he was just walking fast.
“Do you think we overreacted a bit?” Joe asked.
Frank shrugged. “They seemed pretty spooky to me,” he said. “I didn’t believe that story about being in a play for one minute.”
“Me neither,” Joe said. “They must belong to one of those fascist organizations that Inspector Oliveira was talking about.”
“Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean they’d do something to us, Joe,” Frank said. “They might save their fights for their fellow citizens.”
They walked the rest of the way to the tram station. The tram that would take them from Belém to Lisbon proper was arriving just as they got there.
Once back at the hotel, Frank and Joe headed up to their room, which was across the hall from their parents’ room. Joe telephoned them to let them know they were back.
“You’re just in time for dinner,” Mr. Hardy said. “We’ll meet you two in the lobby in ten minutes. Tonight we’re going to eat in the hotel.”
“Sounds good,” Joe said.
Joe reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out the map that Frau Rilke had drawn for them. “We should put this in the hotel’s safe,” he said. “I don’t want to chance losing it.”
“Yeah—good idea,” Frank agreed. “For a minute there, I thought one of the de Feira brothers might tackle us and try to steal the map.”
Frank and Joe took turns washing up and then headed down to the hotel lobby.
Joe handed the map to one of the desk clerks. “This is an important document,” he said. “I’d like to put it in the hotel safe, please.”
“Yes, sir,” the clerk said. He put the map inside a brown envelope and wrote their room number on it. “It will be very safe, sir,” he added with a smile.
“Thank you,” Joe said.
He and Frank strolled around the lobby and looked in the shops while they waited for their parents.
One shop in particular had some cool-looking Portuguese shoes, which they thought Callie and Iola would like.
“We should get something for Catarina, too,” Joe said. “I wonder what she’d like.”
Frank shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll find something.”
Just then Mr. and Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude stepped off the elevator and walked toward Frank and Joe.
“There are three restaurants in this hotel,” Mr. Hardy said. “Your mother and Aunt Gertrude want to eat at Picanha.”
“We’re game for anything,” Frank said.
“Well,” Aunt Gertrude said, “they only serve picanha.”
Frank and Joe looked at each other.
“Okay, I give up,” Joe said. “What is picanha?”
“It’s a special Portuguese dish,” Mrs. Hardy said. “Rump steak served with salad, rice, and beans.”
“Well, that sounds good. I could really eat anything,” Joe said. “Let’s go for it.”
When they got to the restaurant, their waiter took them right to a table. Since picanha was the only dish the restaurant served, they didn’t need to order, and in a short time their meal arrived.
“Great choice!” Frank exclaimed after a few bites. “Delicious.”
Everyone agreed.
Although Mr. and Mrs. Hardy were used to Frank and Joe’s involvement in dangerous projects, Frank and Joe had decided on the way back to the hotel to not volunteer any specific information about what had happened. They didn’t want their parents to be too alarmed.
When Mr. Hardy asked about their trip to Belém, Frank skirted the episode at the de Feira residence. “We didn’t accomplish much. We’ve got to think up a new tack, but we’ve got some ideas.”
Mr. Hardy nodded. “Oh, by the way,” he said, “we’re all expected at the Oliveiras’ house at ten.”
“Why so late?” Aunt Gertrude asked.
“Europeans just start the evening later than Americans,” Mr. Hardy explained.
Joe said, “Tell us what you know about Lisbon during the Second World War, Dad.”
“Well, I don’t know anything firsthand,” Mr. Hardy said with a laugh, “but I’ve talked to a few men and women who were here at the time, and I’ve read a lot.”
“I’ve seen a lot of spy movies that were set in Lisbon,” Aunt Gertrude volunteered. “There was a lot of anger here at one time, I think.”
For the next few minutes Mr. Hardy told his sons about all the intrigues in Lisbon that had occurred during World War II because Portugal had remained neutral. “That meant everyone could fight the war without actually fighting the war,” he said. “Of course, ostensibly the Portuguese could expel you if you did something that they thought violated their neutrality, but in reality a lot of spying went on, and a lot of people were taken out of the country against their will.”
After wartime Lisbon had been exhausted as a conversation topic, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy talked about their afternoon.
“I tried sitting in that little park across the street,” Aunt Gertrude said, “but these men kept flirting with me. I just got disgusted and came back to the hotel.”
Joe kicked Frank under the table. They both knew that even though Aunt Gertrude complained about the attention she had gotten in the park, she was probably very happy about it. In fact, they were sure of it when Aunt Gertrude added, “If that happens again tomorrow, when I go back over there to get some sun, then I’m really going to be irritated.”
Frank and Joe could barely
keep themselves from laughing!
When the meal was over, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude suggested they take a stroll down the broad Avenida da Liberdade, which was just a half block over from the hotel.
“I want to do some people-watching,” Mrs. Hardy said. “It’s the best way to get a feel for a city.”
“It’ll be a while before we go over to the Oliveiras’ house,” Mr. Hardy said. “Do you boys want to come along?”
Frank and Joe declined the invitation. “We need to think about how we’re going to help our friend Frau Rilke, Dad,” Joe said, “so we’ll just go on back to our room.”
“Okay, boys,” Mr. Hardy said. “We’ll check in with you when we get back.”
Frank and Joe left their parents and Aunt Gertrude at the restaurant’s entrance and headed toward the bank of elevators that would take them back up to their room.
“That really was a great meal,” Joe said, “but I think I ate too much.”
“Maybe we should have walked it off after all,” Frank said. “It’s probably not too late to catch them. I don’t think they’re walking all that fast.”
Joe shook his head. “I’d rather watch some television and try to figure out our next move,” he said. “Frankly, I’ve done enough people-watching today!”
Frank laughed. “I guess you’re right,” he said as he inserted the key into the door. “Hey,” he said, opening the door, “didn’t we turn off the lights?”
“Yeah,” Joe said as they entered the room. “I’m sure we . . .”
Just then something hit Joe’s head, knocking him against a wall and causing him to momentarily see stars. “Ow!” he cried, grabbing his head with his hands.
Across the room Frank saw a man dressed in black head for an open window. “Hey!” he cried. “Stop!” Behind him Joe was still groaning. Feeling he should take care of his brother before anything else, Frank turned and hurried to his side.
Joe, shaking off the effects of the attack, quickly assured Frank he was okay. “Let’s get him!” he said, regaining his balance.
By the time Frank turned back around, though, the man had disappeared.
The Secret of the Soldier's Gold Page 3