“But, Jo, how’re you going to get a rope without Florence’s seeing it? It’ll make a bulky-looking package, won’t it?”
“If it does, I won’t get it now. If we can only find where to buy it, we can slip back later. You’ve got to help me get it without Florence’s and Felipe’s seeing it.”
“Well, all right, I suppose I’ll have to do it if you’re determined to go on with your plans—but really I feel terrible about doing anything Florence doesn’t approve of. She and her father’ve been so lovely to us.”
“But I’m not going to do anything to disgrace them. I wouldn’t do that for anything. I really feel that they won’t object at all after I’ve solved the mystery. Florence is just afraid I might get hurt climbing up on that roof. You know well enough I’ve done lots more dangerous things many a time.”
Suddenly spying an Indian woman with a basket of exquisite roses, Peggy stopped, saying, “Forget about your old rope for a minute, Jo, and help me buy some of these beautiful roses. Aren’t they the most gorgeous things you’ve ever seen? Ask her how much they are.”
Jo Ann quickly raked her memory for the proper Spanish words to use in buying the flowers. “Cuanto rosas?” she asked finally.
While talking rapidly in Spanish, the woman picked up a long-stemmed, beautifully shaped bud of shell-pink color edged with silver, and then held up three fingers of her left hand.
“She says they’re three centavos each,” explained Jo Ann.
“Tell her I’ll take a dozen.”
“Un dosena,” she repeated in Spanish.
“Is that all you do—just add an a to the English words—rose-a, dozen-a? I could do that,” laughed Peggy.
“Don’t ever think it’s that simple, but there are several Spanish words which are much like the same words in English,” Jo Ann explained, feeling quite proud of her superior knowledge.
As the woman had seldom sold more than three or four flowers at a time, she had great difficulty now in figuring the cost of a dozen. Finally Jo Ann offered her assistance, and after arguing for some little time, Peggy received her change and the roses, and they started on their way again.
“Gracious! I feel like a bride with all these flowers,” laughed Peggy. “Suppose you take half of them.”
“All right—that’s the very thing.” Jo Ann’s eyes sparkled. “If I can only find the rope now, I can carry the bundle under these flowers, and it won’t be noticed.”
A moment later Peggy called to Jo Ann to stop again. “Just look at these beautiful blankets! Feel how soft they are and see how beautifully the colors are blended.”
“Yes, they are lovely. I’ve heard that they’re all hand made by the natives—that the designs are handed down in the families for generations. But, Peg, we haven’t time to stop here now.”
“Just look at that blanket hanging over there! It looks like the rainbow, the way the colors are shaded into each other. Don’t you love it?”
On receiving no answer from Jo Ann, Peggy turned around just in time to see her disappear in the crowd. Quickly she began pushing her way to the spot where she had last seen her.
“I don’t relish the idea of getting lost in this crowd of people who can’t understand a single word I say,” she told herself, as she darted in and out among the slow, deliberate Mexicans.
After looking about in all directions, to her great relief she spied Jo Ann standing before an enclosed booth, piled high with baskets, sombreros, hand-made chairs, and various other articles. Coming nearer she saw what had attracted Jo Ann’s attention—several long coils of rope hanging near the back of the booth.
“Jo Ann Cutrer, what do you mean by running off like that!” she scolded.
With only a nod at Peggy, Jo Ann stood gazing at the rope, her forehead wrinkled in deep thought.
“Oh dear!” she murmured. “I can’t think of the Spanish word for rope. What can it be?”
“Why don’t you add an a to rope as you did before,” suggested Peggy, smiling.
“Rope-a, rope-a,” repeated Jo Ann several times; then her face brightened. “I believe that is the word. I’m sure I’ve heard that word before.”
Turning to the man in charge of the booth, she repeated in Spanish, “Cuanto la ropa?”
The man looked amazed at first, then stared blankly at her.
“I want la ropa,” she repeated impatiently.
With a shrug of his shoulders, the man shook his head and pointed to another booth farther down the aisle. The next moment his face brightened, and, reaching over, he handed her a basket.
“No—no!” exclaimed Jo Ann, frowning more deeply than ever.
“Maybe he doesn’t understand what you’re saying, Jo,” Peggy suggested, smiling. “Maybe that’s not the right word for rope.”
“Something’s wrong, that’s certain,” Jo Ann replied.
Turning to the man again, she pointed to the back of the booth behind a stack of sombreros. “See, I want that rope back there.” A broad smile spread over his bronze face as he picked up several of the hats and handed them to her.
Jo Ann shook her head vehemently. “No—no.”
Since the only thing left near the hats was the coil of rope hanging on a peg behind them, he handed her the rope.
“Sí, sí,” she replied, and reached over to take the rope from him. “How much is it?” she asked in Spanish.
As soon as he replied she answered promptly, “Bien—I’ll take it,” and handed it back to him to be wrapped.
To her amazement he unfastened the coil and spread the rope out before her to show her how long it was, then jerked on it to show its strength.
“Sí, sí—that’s all right, but wrap it up—and hurry, please.”
“He’s the slowest person I ever saw,” she murmured to Peggy. “I’m afraid Florence’ll find us before I get it wrapped. I hardly think she’ll notice it under these roses, do you?”
Once more the Mexican handed her the rope without any sign of wrapping and with one long end dangling from the loose coil.
“Jo, look!” Peggy put in quickly, pointing to the next booth. “They don’t wrap their packages here. That’s why he didn’t understand you.”
“Horrors! I can’t carry it this way—what’ll I do? I’d like to—” She stopped suddenly as a familiar voice behind her exclaimed, “Oh, here you are! I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
Jo Ann dropped the rope as if it were a hot coal.
“I was beginning to think you girls were lost,” Florence went on.
“Not lost, just misplaced,” put in Peggy quickly to cover Jo Ann’s confusion.
“Come on, we’ll have to hurry now,” Florence urged. “I know Juana’s had breakfast waiting for us for a long time.” She turned and led the way out of the market.
When they had gone only a few steps, Jo Ann suddenly gave a little gasp and catching Peggy by the arm exclaimed in a low voice, “Gee! I made a ridiculous mistake. I’ve just remembered what the word ropa means—it’s clothes. I was asking the man for clothes! No wonder he couldn’t understand what I meant!”
CHAPTER V
THE SIESTA HOUR
All the way home from the market Jo Ann kept wondering what excuse she would make to Florence so that she might go back after the rope.
To her delight the opportunity came sooner than she expected. While the three girls were at the table lingering over their late breakfast, Felipe entered with a message for Florence from her father.
“Daddy needs my help for about half an hour in the office,” she explained. “I often assist him in the simple cases. You girls amuse yourselves any way you wish while I’m busy.”
“All right,” Peggy answered promptly. “I believe I’ll run across the Plaza to that curio store we saw yesterday and buy some postcards. I’d like to look at the curios, too.”
“The sun’s getting so hot now that you’d better carry my parasol, if you’re going out,” Florence suggested over her shoulder as she left the room.
Although Jo Ann had not said a word, she immediately decided that here was her chance to go back to the market after the rope.
Jo Ann got the parasol and then hastened out the door, Peggy at her heels.
“Let’s go back to the market for the rope first before we go to the curio store,” Jo Ann suggested as soon as they reached the street.
“All right, but let’s hurry so I’ll be sure to have time to stop and get the cards,” replied Peggy.
When they reached the market the crowd had thinned considerably, and without much difficulty they found the booth and bought the rope.
Peggy smiled widely as they left the booth and remarked teasingly, “I notice you didn’t ask for ropa this time.”
Jo Ann grinned good-naturedly. “No, I looked it up in my dictionary and found the right word for rope.”
As it had taken longer to make the trip than they had anticipated, Jo Ann hurried Peggy along.
“I’ve got to get this rope inside the house and hidden before Florence finishes helping her father.”
Just as they turned the corner by the Plaza, Jo Ann halted abruptly. “Peg, look, standing there in the doorway—Felipe! I can’t go past him, carrying the rope loose like this.”
“Well—I’ll tell you, Jo. We’ve forgotten the postcards. Let’s go to the store and get them, and maybe by the time we get back he’ll be gone.”
To their vexation, when they returned to the same corner fifteen minutes later, they found that Felipe was still standing in the doorway.
“Look, Peg! The watchdog is still there. I’m not going to throw this rope away now that I’ve got this near home with it. What shall I—” She stopped abruptly. “I’ve got it! I’ll slip it inside the parasol.”
Putting her words into action, she closed the parasol and slipped the coil of rope inside.
Peggy laughed, “That’s a funny-looking parasol, I must say.”
“I don’t care if it is funny. You walk close to me, and I’ll carry the parasol between us. Now, how’s that?”
“All right, I suppose—only I’m sure Felipe is wondering why we’re not carrying it over our heads as we’re supposed to do.”
With an effort to conceal their amusement, they hurried on past Felipe and up to their room.
Quickly snatching the rope from its hiding place, Jo Ann threw it into her trunk and slammed the lid down with a bang.
“There now—I’m glad that much is done,” she remarked with a sigh of satisfaction. “I hope I don’t have as much trouble using this rope as I’ve had getting it.”
Even as she spoke these words she began thinking of the many problems she still had to solve before she could reach the mysterious window. Would she be able to climb the crude scaffold? How would she be able to fasten the rope after she got to the roof? And how could she manage to do all this without being seen?
All through lunch and later that afternoon during the siesta hour these questions kept racing through her mind.
Just as they had done the day before, Florence and Peggy quickly succumbed to the heavy, drowsy stillness. But not Jo Ann. The harder she tried to sleep, the more wide awake she became.
Finally in desperation she got up and sat gazing out of the window. How could she stand this quiet and inaction so long? Glancing down at her watch, she realized it would be at least an hour before Florence and Peggy were awake.
“Even being outdoors in the hot sun’s better than sitting here doing nothing,” she told herself.
No sooner had this thought entered her mind than she decided to go outside and examine the scaffold on the building at the end of the block.
“It’ll take only a few minutes, and I’ll be back before the girls are awake,” she thought.
Quickly she rose and slipped noiselessly out of the room and past the sleeping Felipe at the head of the stairs. Once outside she hastened on around the corner and looked anxiously down the street to the farther end of the block to see if the scaffold were still there.
“Good! It’s there!” she exclaimed to herself the next moment.
Without a thought about the extreme heat she ran down the street to the corner. As she gazed up at the high, crude scaffold made of peeled poles fastened together, a slight tinge of fear passed over her. How high it looked! And what a blank wall it was fastened on! There wasn’t a sign of a window or opening—not even a ledge—to break the smooth, regular surface of the wall.
“That’s the crudest scaffold I’ve ever laid eyes on,” she thought, as she examined the hardwood poles which were fastened to the wall in several places by wooden pegs.
Near the top of the poles she noticed that there was a rough platform from which dangled a long rope with a bucket attached to the end.
“I wonder how the workmen get up to that platform,” she thought.
Going over to the other side of the scaffold she discovered that deep notches had been cut at regular intervals in one of the poles, for footholds. “So this is the way they get up! These notches look awfully far apart, though. I wonder if I could reach them.”
Carefully she pulled herself up to the first notch, and then on to the second and third.
“Sure, I can climb this!” she exulted. “This is more fun than I’ve had in a long time.”
Up she climbed to the platform and then scrambled over onto it.
While she was sitting there resting a moment, she was busily examining the rest of the scaffold to see if she could reach the top of the building. She noticed that, although there were no more notches cut in the pole, there was a crosspiece near the top to hold the scaffold in position against the building.
“If I can only reach that crosspiece, I know I can climb up on the roof,” she told herself.
Cautiously she rose and, wrapping her legs and arms around the pole, slowly pulled herself up to the crosspiece; then balancing herself on it she climbed over the edge of the roof.
However, hot as she was, she knew that she had no time to cool off, since the siesta hour was almost over, and the girls would soon be awake.
“I must not get caught again,” she told herself.
She looked hastily around the curious roof, noting with surprise that it resembled a flat cement floor with a low, thick stone wall around it.
“How on earth can I fasten a rope to a roof like this?” she asked herself in dismay. “While I’m up here I’ve just got to see the roof over that mysterious window. If it’s like this, what will I do?”
Hurrying to the division wall, she scrambled over it, only to be confronted by another wall. Undaunted, she climbed over it, and then over still another, till she came in sight of a chimney.
“This must be the chimney of the big fireplace in the kitchen,” she told herself.
Climbing up on the broad outer wall of the roof she peered over, trying to find the position of the mysterious window.
“Why don’t they have window casings or something to show where their windows are?” she thought in disgust.
She lay flat on her stomach and leaned farther out over the edge of the building. Although the hot stones burned her, she kept on persistently examining the surface of the wall below till she made out the outlines of the mysterious opening.
“Whew!” she exclaimed aloud. “I know I’m scorched.”
She sprang down quickly, took a pin out of her hair, and tried to scratch a mark with it on the wall directly in line with the window. To her disgust the hairpin proved to be too frail a tool to have any effect upon the old plaster of the wall. Tossing the pin away, she looked about for some other object with which to mark the spot, but on finding nothing she hurried off toward the scaffold.
“I’ve got to rush, or the girls’ll be awake and miss me,” she told herself as she vaulted the first division wall.
In a surprisingly short time she reached the end of the building. Leaning over the wall, she looked about for the crosspiece on which she must get a foothold before sliding down to the platform below.
The next instant she gasped and drew back. Surely her eyes were deceiving her.
Cautiously she peeped over the wall again. Yes, there on the platform only a few feet beneath her sat a Mexican with a bucket of paint beside him. Just then loud, coarse laughter sounded from the street, and peering down she saw several workmen applauding one of their number who, poised at the bottom of the scaffold, was dramatizing a love scene. Pulling out a piece of white material from his girdle, he pressed it first to his lips, then to his heart, talking rapidly all the time.
Only two words floated up to her—señorita and amor. As the actor waved the white material in response to the applause, an expression of consternation came into Jo Ann’s eyes. That was her handkerchief! She must have dropped it when she was climbing. The señorita of this silly farce was no other than herself.
Horrified, she drew back out of sight. What must she do now? She dared not climb down with those awful men there. If her handkerchief had caused such guffawing, what would happen when they saw her?
Alarmed by these thoughts, she fled back toward the chimney. It would offer a little shelter, at least.
“What a mess I’ve made of things!” she thought as she ran. “Peggy’s right about my curiosity getting me in trouble. I’m in it now.”
Huddling behind the chimney in an effort to hide from the workmen should they come up on the roof, and to escape the direct rays of the sun, she racked her brain for a way to get out of this predicament without disgracing herself.
“I must not do anything that will hurt Florence or her father,” she told herself. “Florence said it would never do for a girl to do anything that’d attract attention in any way. If I were back home and these were American workmen, I wouldn’t have a bit of trouble getting out of this predicament. But down here—! I’d have a time trying to make them understand me. They might think I was crazy or something, but I wouldn’t care if it weren’t for the Blackwells. There must be some way out of this embarrassing situation.”
At the same time that Jo Ann was puzzling over her problem Peggy was arousing from her siesta. With half-opened eyes, she stretched lazily and looked about the room. Florence was beginning to stir, but where was Jo Ann?
The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 87