“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?”
CHAPTER IX
THE SEALED DOOR
The stillness of the night was suddenly shattered as a booming noise vibrated through the silent old house. There it was again. Boom! Boom! It echoed and re-echoed through the great hall and high-ceilinged rooms.
“What was that?” whispered Peggy as she and Jo Ann sprang up in the darkness, wide awake in an instant.
“I don’t know,” Jo Ann whispered back. “It sounded like shooting. Do you suppose someone’s starting a revolution? You never know what to expect next down here.”
“I knew you shouldn’t have read those old histories last night, Jo,” murmured Florence drowsily, with a hint of amusement in her voice. “You seem to have war on the brain.”
“Well, what in the world was that noise, then?” retorted Jo Ann. “I know perfectly well I did hear something that sounded like a gun or a—”
Before she could finish her sentence the booming noise sounded again in rapid succession.
“Now! I suppose I’m imagining things, am I?” she scoffed.
Florence broke into a peal of laughter as she rose and began hastily putting on her robe and slippers. “I’m really surprised, Jo, that you could be fooled by anything about this house—you’ve studied it so thoroughly,” she added over her shoulder as she ran out of the room.
“Now what do you know about that!” exclaimed Peggy with a quizzical expression on her face. “I fail to see the joke, don’t you?”
“Well—I believe—I’m beginning to see it,” replied Jo Ann slowly. “That was only someone knocking on the door downstairs, but I can’t see why Florence had to answer it. I don’t believe Dr. Blackwell would expect her to go down there alone—in the middle of the night—to answer the door.”
“No, I’m sure he wouldn’t,” agreed Peggy, “but why did she rush off like that, then?”
A few moments later Florence burst into the room, still smiling. “Well, I’ve stopped the revolution,” she announced, her eyes twinkling. “I assure you everything is quiet and peaceful, and you won’t be disturbed again. Go back to sleep. You’re perfectly safe now.”
“I know I sounded silly, but I was half asleep, and it startled me,” Jo Ann explained apologetically. “I know now it was someone knocking on the door, but why did you have to answer it?”
“I suppose it did look funny, the way I rushed out there alone,” Florence replied, “but I knew it was only someone coming for Daddy. I always go downstairs with him to bolt the door after he leaves.”
“To bolt the door!” repeated Peggy. “Can’t he use a key? I never heard of the whole family having to get up in the middle of the night to escort someone to the door.”
“Well, I’d much rather bolt the door after him,” Florence laughed, “than go along to carry the key for him.”
“How ridiculous!” Peggy retorted. “People usually carry their own keys, don’t they?”
“Yes, that’s true—but this is an unusual house, you must remember. You’ve never seen this key, have you?”
Peggy and Jo Ann shook their heads.
“Well, it’s solid brass, about that long”—she held up her hands eight inches apart—“and weighs a pound or more. In olden days they took the mozo along just to carry the key—when it was necessary to carry it. We’ve found that the key makes a better parlor ornament than anything else.”
“What’s a bozo—or mozo, or whatever you call it?” asked Peggy.
“That’s what they call a manservant,” explained Florence.
Peggy then turned to Jo Ann and remarked teasingly, “The key—weren’t you hunting for a mysterious key? There you are! Your wish has been granted.”
Disregarding Peggy’s remarks, Jo Ann asked eagerly, “Florence, where’s that key? I want to see it.”
“It’ll keep till morning,” Florence returned, snuggling into bed. “Come on—it’s ’most four o’clock, but we can get a nice little nap before time to get up.”
“Tell me where the key is, and I’ll get it,” persisted Jo Ann. “I couldn’t go to sleep for thinking about it—not that it’ll help me though, as Peggy suggested. That’s not the kind of key I’m looking for.”
“I don’t know exactly where it is,” replied Florence. “I’ll have to hunt for it, but if you’re that anxious to see it, we’ll get it.”
With flashlights blinking, the three pajama-clad figures crept across the hall and into the parlor, a room that was seldom used. After searching among several other old relics in a cabinet, Florence finally unearthed the huge key, tarnished and black from disuse.
“Here you are,” she said, handing it to Jo Ann. “You can look at it the rest of the night if you want to, but I’m going to bed. Come on, put it under your pillow or anywhere you wish.”
She led the way back to their room, and she and Peggy quickly crawled into bed. But Jo Ann sat under the light, turning the key over and over in her hand, musing. “What a key! Who ever heard of a key so large you needed a servant to carry it—but how typical of the time when this house was built. Everything—the walls, the windows, the doors—practically impenetrable. What a place of refuge in times of war and strife!”
“Turn out that light,” growled Peggy, startling Jo Ann out of her reverie. “Can’t you dream as well in the dark? We want to go to sleep, if you don’t.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Jo Ann answered, and, turning out the light, crawled into bed.
It seemed to Jo Ann that she had scarcely closed her eyes before there was a knock on the door, and she heard Florence talking to someone. “What is it this time?” she thought drowsily. “Such a night—just one thing after another.”
She turned over and dozed off again, but again a voice broke into her slumbers: “Jo, come on.”
“Why couldn’t they leave her alone—or was she dreaming?”
“It’s time to get up, Jo,” the voice urged. “Hurry! Juana’s not coming today, and we’ve got to do the cooking.”
Forcing one eye open, she saw the room filled with sunlight, and Florence and Peggy already almost dressed.
“O-oh, I’m so sleepy!” she mumbled between yawns. “I’ll get up in a minute.”
“That’s what you get for keeping us awake half the night,” scolded Peggy. “Now hurry up. We’ve got to get breakfast.”
“What d’you say?” she asked lazily.
“Come on, Florence, let’s pull her out,” put in Peggy. “We’ll get even with her for last night.”
Without another word Peggy made a grab for Jo Ann’s feet. But Jo Ann was wide awake in an instant. Like a flash she reached out, and catching Peggy around the neck, pulled her down on the bed beside her. Laughing and shrieking, the tussle continued while Florence dropped in a chair, convulsed with laughter. Over and over the two rolled, first this way, then that, till they finally landed on the floor, panting for breath.
“Well—you’re awake—now!” gasped Peggy.
“Did I dream it or did I hear you say something about Juana not coming today?” Jo Ann asked when she could get her breath.
“I’m sorry to inform you that you were not dreaming,” replied Florence. “No, she’s not coming, and if we eat today we’ll have to cook. Her husband’s sister’s child died, and she went over there till after the funeral. Juana’s so good I hate to say anything when she misses a day now and then. The Mexicans have such large families, someone is always dying. That’s why black is almost a uniform with the peon women. They’re always in mourning for someone.”
“Gracious! I’d hate to wear black all the time,” shuddered Peggy.
“Well, this won’t get breakfast or clean up the house,” said Jo Ann, dressing rapidly. “Come on, let’s get busy. This is just the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.”
“Why the sudden ambition?” inquired Peggy qui
zzically. “It’s strange I have no recollection of your having demonstrated your talent for housework before.”
“Oh, I don’t mind cooking,” returned Jo Ann. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’ve been trying to get in that kitchen without Juana there so I could poke around in all the corners to my heart’s content.”
“Oh, I see!” laughed Peggy. “While we work, you search out the mysteries of—”
“Girls! Girls! Whatever shall I do with you?” put in Florence, laughing. “Which would you rather do?” she added as the trio trooped gaily to the kitchen. “Go to market or have breakfast first? Since Daddy’s already had his breakfast, it makes no difference which we do.”
“It’s all the same to me,” replied Peggy. “I’m not the least bit hungry, and I’d rather enjoy the walk.”
“Someone has to stay here to look after the house and answer the door,” Florence went on. “Since you girls can’t very well do the marketing, I’ll go with you, and we’ll leave Felipe here. This will be one morning you won’t have to be bothered with him, Jo.”
“Wait a minute,” cut in Jo Ann. “I have a better plan than that. Let’s have breakfast right now; then, while you and Felipe go to market, Peg and I’ll stay here and wash the dishes.”
“I can’t let you do that!” exclaimed Florence in dismay. “And, anyway, what’d you do if someone came to see Dad?”
“Oh, I’d say en un momento [in a minute] and sit them down in the office till you got back,” Jo Ann answered lightly. “You see, what I really want is to get rid of the watchdog for a little while, and that seems to be the only way of doing it.”
“Well—under—one condition,” said Florence hesitantly. “If you’ll promise not to do anything daring or dangerous in any way, then I’ll let you stay here.”
“I’ll do my best to keep her straight,” promised Peggy.
“You do have a time with me, don’t you?” laughed Jo Ann. “I’ll promise to be good this time.”
As soon as breakfast was over, Florence started off to market, with the faithful Felipe trailing along behind. At last Peggy and Jo Ann had the house to themselves. They stacked and carried the dishes to the kitchen, and then Jo Ann quickly placed her stack on the table and walked to the door. From there she started across the room in front of the huge fireplace.
“One—two—three,” she counted, pacing the distance to the wall across the room, “four—five.” Then, turning, she measured the distance back again.
“I guess that’s right,” she mumbled to herself.
“What in the world are you doing now?” asked Peggy disgustedly from across the room. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Don’t bother me. Seventeen—eighteen—”
“Josephine Annette Cutrer, are you going to help with these dishes?” insisted Peggy.
There was no response from Jo Ann. By that time she had gone out the door and was pacing the length of the hall.
“Peg! Oh, Peg! Come here quick!” she called excitedly in another moment. “I knew I was on the right track. Look!” Again she paced the length of the hall from the door, back. “You see,” she explained, “there’s about eight feet difference in the distance on this side of the wall and that in the kitchen.”
“What do you mean?” asked Peggy in surprise. “It’s bound to be the same.”
“But it isn’t. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Now, if the wall measures less on this side, wouldn’t you figure there was some reason for it?”
“Why—yes, I suppose so.”
“Well, then! What would you call a space eight feet deep—and with a window in it?”
Peggy stared, wide-eyed. “Why, Jo! You mean—there’s a room back there?”
“Exactly! It couldn’t be anything else,” Jo Ann replied, taking the shade off the light. “Here, hold this light at this angle so it’ll shine on the middle of this wall.”
“Is that right?” asked Peggy, trying to do as she was told.
“No, shine it over a little to your left.” The next moment Jo Ann exclaimed in disgust, “Oh, gee! It’s so dark in this corner, even that doesn’t do much good. Wish I had a light ’way back here.”
“Wait a minute. I’ll get my flashlight,” called Peggy, running quickly to her room.
“Now, is that better?” she asked a moment later.
“Yes, but—here, hand me the flashlight.” Jo Ann reached over for the flashlight. “Now you hold the other one. Two lights ought to be better than one,” she added, gazing intently at the wall from first one angle then another. “Peg, am I seeing things, or is there a shadow across the wall?” she asked a few minutes later, holding the light close.
Peggy shook her head. “I can’t see a thing.”
“Put that light down and come here! Now, look—right here!” Jo Ann pointed, running her hand across the wall. “And over here! I can feel a sort of dent in the wall. Don’t you see it?”
“Oh—I—believe—I do,” Peggy answered slowly, then, “Yes, I do see it now. I’m sure I do!”
“There used to be a narrow door right here!” cried Jo Ann excitedly. “I knew it! I knew it! I told you the key to the mystery lay behind that window.” Grabbing Peggy, she danced her hilariously around the hall.
CHAPTER X
THROUGH THE MYSTERIOUS WINDOW
Their dance came suddenly to an end when Peggy exclaimed, “Jo, stop! Hush! There’s someone coming up the stairs.”
“Oh, do you suppose it’s Florence? We haven’t washed a dish.”
“And whose fault is it, I wonder?” Peggy retorted teasingly.
In a few more moments a decrepit, half-blind old man, led by a small, wizened-faced boy, appeared at the head of the stairs.
Jo Ann gave a long sigh. “They must be patients for Dr. Blackwell. I’ll have my troubles now trying to talk to them.”
“Can’t you ask them what they want?”
“I’ll try. Let’s see. Ah—que queres [what do you want]?” she finally managed in Spanish.
The old man mumbled a reply, but Jo Ann could not understand a single word.
“Do you want el doctor?” she asked again. Once more the old man mumbled an unintelligible reply.
Jo Ann turned to Peggy. “I can’t make out a thing he says. What’d we better do? Take them into the office and let them wait? Florence always tries to persuade the patients to wait for her father.”
“I don’t know what to say,” replied Peggy doubtfully. “I’ve never seen such pitiful-looking specimens of humanity in my life. They look like charity cases to me, but maybe you’d better try to hold them.”
“Well, I’ll try—if I can make them understand.”
With renewed efforts Jo Ann struggled to make herself understood, using a mixture of Spanish and English and gesturing vigorously with her hands.
Not the slightest change came over the expressionless faces of the man and boy.
In despair Jo Ann turned again to Peggy. “They’re hopeless,” she declared. “I give up. Let’s just leave them standing here.”
As soon as she had stopped talking, the boy took the old man by the hand and led him down the stairs and into the street.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t hold them,” sighed Jo Ann, dropping down on the steps to rest after her strenuous efforts.
“Come on,” urged Peggy. “Let’s finish the dishes before Florence gets back.”
“All right. We’ll have to hurry.”
Returning to the kitchen, they attacked the dishes energetically, though talking over the discovery of the hidden room all the time.
“While you put things away,” offered Jo Ann, “I’ll sweep, and everything’ll be straight in a jiffy.”
When they had almost finished, Florence appeared in the doorway.
“How smart you’ve been!” she praised, glancing around the kitchen approvingly. “You didn’t have time to get into mischief, did you?”
“We’ve had time to make a wonderful discovery!” exclaim
ed Jo Ann quickly. “Guess what we’ve found!”
“What—the family skeleton?”
Ignoring Florence’s sarcastic remark, Jo Ann went on rapidly, “We’ve found the door to a mysterious room at the end of the hall!”
“A door! A room!” Florence gasped. “What’re you talking about?”
With her words tumbling over each other in her excitement, Jo Ann began explaining the details of their discovery.
“It seems almost unbelievable that there’s a hidden room in this house,” Florence exclaimed, wide-eyed as she wheeled about to examine the shadow of the doorway by the flashlight.
“There’s a door there, all right—I can see it,” she agreed finally. “But what—why do you imagine anyone sealed it up?”
Peggy shook her head dubiously and replied, “I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“I’m not sure about that either,” put in Jo Ann, “but I do know that the mysterious window opens into this hidden room.”
“I believe you’re right,” Peggy agreed quickly. “I believe it does.”
“I do, too,” added Florence. “But what do you suppose is inside this hidden room? That is a mystery!”
“I’ll be able to explain that before long,” declared Jo Ann. “I’m going to look through that window this very day.”
“Oh, Jo, do be careful,” warned Florence. “I’m afraid you’ll be—”
Before Florence could finish her sentence, Peggy broke in with, “If you go, Jo, I’m going up on the roof with you.”
“All right—that suits me. If things work out right, I’m going during the siesta hour. I slipped past the watchdog once—surely I can slip into the office without getting caught—” She stopped suddenly. “Mentioning the office reminds me that two patients came while you were gone, Florence. I did my best to hold them, but I didn’t succeed—I couldn’t make them understand a word. They looked stupid to me.” She went on to give a vivid description of their appearance.
Before she had finished, Florence began to smile.
“What’s the joke?” Jo Ann demanded.
“I’m glad you didn’t hold them—they weren’t patients at all,” Florence replied, still smiling. “That was just a poor old beggar who comes by every few days.”
The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 91