The Silver Secret

Connie felt increasing alarm. Where was Kit? Had she

been kidnapped or. Connies mind stopped short of envisioning any other

possibility, but for the first time since she had become

involved in this mystery she was frightened not just plain scared as she had been in the cemetery, but sick and cold

with fear. It was quite clear that Kit had disappeared because

she had been mistaken for Connie. Kit, who knew little or

nothing about the silver theft. Kit, who only wanted to have

a little fun on her vacation, and who loathed anything even

vaguely mysterious, who, in spite of her resemblance to

Connie, was as different from her twin as day is from night.

With Kit in terrible danger, the Silver Secret became more

than a puzzling mystery. Solving it now was a matter of life

or death!

The CONNIE BLAIR Mystery Stories

The Clue in Blue

The Riddle in Red

Puzzle in Purple

The Secret of Black Cat Gulch

The Green Island Mystery

The Ghost Wore White

The Yellow Warning

The Gray Menace

The Brown Satchel Mystery

Peril in Pink

The Silver Secret

The Mystery of the Ruby Queens

A CONNIE BLAIR MYSTERY

The Silver Secret

By

BETSY ALLEN

Grosset & Dunlap

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

1956 BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

1. The Land of Tomorrow 1

2. On the Road to Taxco 15

3. The Silver Shop 29

4. House of Forgetfulness 42

5. More Than Meets the Eye 48

6. Now Whos Confused? 60 7. Acapulco Trip 74

8. Attack in the Night 83

9. Patio Incident 99

10. Midnight Chase 108

11. Mystery in the Morning 120

12. Mole Is Alerted 131

13. Still No Kit 142

14. The Other Sister 149

15. Wheels Within Wheels 156

16. The Scheme That Failed 164

1

CHAPTER 1

The Land of Tomorrow

Oh, what a marvelous view! cried Connie Blair. One entire wall of the room into which she stepped

was glass, and from the top floor of the hotel she

looked out over the Alameda, a big green park in the

heart of Mexico City. Look, Kit. She turned to her twin sister. Isnt it beautiful?

Kit was too enraptured to do more than nod. It

was the bellboy who answered. S, Seorita! he said happily as he placed the girls luggage on racks. It is the best room of all, I think. Like a penthouse, no?

Connie smiled and agreed, amused that the dark-

skinned young Mexican with the flashing smile

knew the American term. From the great window

she could look down at an angle to a dining terrace,

banked in the corners with foliage. It all looked very

2

continental and extravagant.

Kit, meanwhile, was gazing at the fountains

which played in the park, at the iris in bloom, and at

the carpet of indistinguishable small flowers that

melted into the grass. Its something like Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia, isnt it? she asked.

Only bigger. About six times bigger, Connie computed. Since she worked for Reid and Renshaw,

a Philadelphia advertising agency, and walked

through the Square on her way to the office every

morning, she was in a position to know.

The bellhop pulled the floor-length draw curtains

even farther back and grinned at the enthusiasm of

these pretty American twins. It wasnt often that even the Bamer Hotel had such a charming pair

among its guests. Blond, brown-eyed, long-limbed,

and exceedingly trim and smart in their tailored

gabardine suits, Connie and Kit were so young and

attractive that they were bound to draw attention

wherever they went. And in Mexico City, filled with

brunette Latin types, their shining fair hair was

outstanding.

But though they were aware that the boy was

openly admiring, they were amused rather than

especially flattered. Like everything else on this

exciting holiday trip, they considered his approval

fun.

3

Finally, saying Gracias for the peso notes handed him by Connie as a tip, he withdrew, and the

girls were alone. Kit pulled off her gloves and tossed

them on the bureau. Pinch me, she suggested to Connie with a laugh. I still cant believe its true!

The idea of flying to Mexico for a fortnights winter vacation was still so new to Kit that it seemed

incredible, even though here she was! The legacy

from her godmother had come as a complete

surprisefive hundred dollars to spend on a Mexican holiday, because Miss Florrie, as the twins had always called her, was anxious that Kit

become acquainted with a country in which she had

passed several happy years.

Connie, whose employers were sufficiently

advanced in their thinking to approve of winter

vacations, counted up her savings and decided that

she could afford to go along, so for the first time

since their trip to Florida, where they had become

involved in The Brown Satchel Mystery, the twins

were together again.

Only this time, Connie had announced on the plane, its going to be pure pleasure. Im not going to look at a suspicious character sideways. Im going to go shopping in Mexico City, and sight-seeing in

Taxco, and water skiing in Acapulco, and Ohoh, murmured Kit, with a twinkle in her

eye. Famous last words.

4

What did you say? Nothing. I was just remembering another time

Kits voice drifted off and merged with the rustle of tissue paper as Connie lifted carefully

packed dresses from her suitcase. As usual, she was

going to be ready to go out and see the town long

before her more leisurely sister.

Come on, Kit. Hurry up! We still have an hour of daylight. Lets walk across the square and buy a guidebook and send some postcards to the family

and Wait a minute! Kit cried in mock consternation.

Not so fast. But she did manage to speed up, so that in ten

minutes the twins, with their traveling suits brushed

and with clean white gloves in hand, were riding

downstairs and stepping out into a lobby lined with

mirrors in which was reflected an enormous globe of

the world. This revolved within a great central table,

around which low lounges accommodated waiting

guests.

Americans mingled with Mexicans, and Spanish

and English blended into a medley of sound. Several

heads turned to follow the girls as they stepped out

into the twilight, but they were quite

unselfconscious. A twin becomes accustomed to

being watched.

Oh, look, Connie. Isnt that the man with the

5

English accent who was on our plane? Kit touched her sisters arm and indicated a spare, middle-aged man in a dark pinstriped suit paying a taxi driver.

Then he turned to follow the uniformed lad who was

carrying his luggage into the lobby.

Connie nodded, and would have smiled in

greeting had the man recognized her. But he was

absorbed in replacing some bills in his wallet and in

keeping an eye on the bellboy. As he crossed the

pavement a card fluttered out of the open wallet and

Connie quite spontaneously reached to pick it up.

Sir! she called. But the man was already on the other side of the

revolving doors and didnt hear her. She glanced down at the oblong of cardboard without curiosity,

wondering whether it were important enough to run

after him and return it. Kit glanced at it too, seeing

the familiar form of printing rather than the words.

Its nothing. Just an ordinary business card. Not quite ordinary. Connie made no move to

follow the man, but handed the card to Kit with one

eyebrow raised a trifle quizzically. In the center was

engraved in dignified black script the name Cedric Maitland Mole, and in the lower left-hand corner was noted the organization with which Mr. Mole

was affiliated, Lloyds of London. This explains the British accent, she said.

Lloyds of London, Kit murmured aloud.

6

Whats thata detective agency? She gave her sister a sidelong, teasing glance.

Connie laughed aloud. An insurance company, silly. One of the biggest. Theyll issue a policy on almost anything they consider a fair riska singers voice, a dancers feet, a pianists fingers. Theyre terribly famous. Oh, Kit, you know!

I was just kidding, Kit admitted as they crossed the street and paused to admire a handsome

monument commemorating the hundredth birthday

of Mexicos independence. But whats so interesting about Mr. Maitland?

By now, Connies attention was otherwise engaged. She crumpled the card and tossed it aside,

shrugging. I dont know. Its sort of tempting to speculate on what he may be doing here, thats all.

Lets just speculate on where we go to buy a guidebook, Kit suggested. Im more intrigued by Mexico City than by Mr. Cedric Mole.

The twins continued down the Avenida Jurez,

past the Palace of Fine Arts to a narrower section of

the street which was lined with silver shops. Here, in

a venerable building covered with blue and white

tile, they discovered Sanborns, a combination

drugstore, department store, and restaurant, where

other tourists were buying not only guidebooks but

silver and toothbrushes and American newspapers

and magazines.

7

8

They took the advice of a clerk and emerged

shortly with a paper-bound volume which they

shared between them, and wandered for a while

along the narrow streets which opened off the park.

As darkness approached, the city seemed to come

alive. Business became brisk in the shops, the

number of pedestrians increased on the narrow

sidewalks, and everywhere was movement and

color, punctuated by the twinkle of electric lights.

Then great neon signs flashed on, featuring

charging bulls and Mexican fireworks, and giving

the downtown district an offbeat touch of Times

Square in New York City. The offices began to

close between six and seven oclock, and the streets filled with pretty secretaries homeward bound and

young executives strolling toward the hotels which

were popular meeting places before the late dinner

hour.

Connie and Kit finally joined the stream of

pedestrians emptying into the Alameda, and made

their way back to the Bamer, where they found a

table in the small but elegant dining room. Connie,

always experimental, ordered cracked Morro crab

and chicken mole, but Kit, who was more interested

in the guidebook she was still perusing than in food,

settled on a simple American dish.

Ill taste yours, she decided. Then, if I like it, theres always tomorrow

9

Maana, Connie agreed impishly. Mexico, the land of tomorrow. I can see youre going to fit right in!

At that moment, in the arched doorway, appeared

a strangely attired woman whom Connie

immediately recognized as still another fellow

passenger on their flight from New York. She had

introduced herself as an American sculptor living in

Taxco, and for more than an hour had regaled them

with stories of Mexican village life.

In spite of her bizarre appearance, the girls had

found her rather entertaining, and promised to look

her up when they visited the mountain city of the

silversmiths.

She was a wispy woman of uncertain years, with

straight gray hair, cut, surprisingly, in a long bang

across her forehead, and she wore heavy silver

bracelets on her thin arms and an assortment of

necklaces wound around a chiffon scarf which

swaddled her throat. Her full peasant skirt looked

extremely odd in the city, where most girls and

women dressed in simple suits or dark street dresses.

If she had seemed Bohemian and unconventional on

the plane, she looked even more so against the

backdrop of the lobby mirrors, like a gypsy fortune

teller or a theatrical character who had wandered

offstage.

Dont look now, Connie whispered to her twin,

10

but here comes Hannah Devotion Troy! The warning came too late. Kits head had

already turned, and Mrs. Troy immediately spotted

the shining hair of the Blair twins. With a squeal of

delight she hurried toward them, her skirt billowing

and her bracelets jingling.

How nice to see you again! she cried. The girls rose and greeted her politely. Connie

felt slightly conspicuous because Mrs. Troys appearance had drawn the attention of the other

diners to their table, but Kit courteously asked her to

join them. She didnt hesitate for a moment, snapping her fingers to a waiter, who pulled up an

extra chair. She settled herself comfortably and

smiled at the girls over the menu.

Now, isnt this nice? she burbled. I was telling my daughter in New York just this morning it was

bound to be a lonely trip back, but it hasnt been at all, thanks to you. Now what do I want to eat? Let

me see. Her watery blue eyes considered the entrees and she ordered knowingly, langouste first,

then enchiladas with guacamole sauce.

Tell me, she suggested as the waiter hurried off, what do you think of the city?

Oh, we love it, Connie said promptly. It has so much atmosphere!

Ah, but wait until you see Taxco! You will never want to leave, Mrs. Troy said with a sigh.

11

She reached out and patted Kits hand. You should come and stay with me, really, instead of at the

hotel. Thats very kind, but our reservations are all

arranged, Kit replied gently. Well, if anything goes astray, you are welcome.

As the Mexicans say, My house is yours. Thats charming, isnt it? Connie murmured.

Then, in an effort to make polite conversation, she

added, Have you lived in Taxco a long time, Mrs. Troy?

Five years. But only two years in the Casa del Olvido. A slight frown trembled on her forehead. Then she twitched her shoulders as though shaking

off an unpleasant thought. I like it there, she said abruptly. It is a quiet place to work. With a return of her former ebullience, she added, When you come I will show you some of my jewelry designs.

You design jewelry too? Kit asked with interest.

Only recently, replied Mrs. Troy. But it interests me. Yes, it interests me very much.

She sounds as though she were trying to convince

herself that this is true, thought Connie, as she

dipped a succulent piece of crab in mayonnaise and

tasted it appreciatively. Shes an odd person. I wonder if shes any good as a sculptor, or as a designer either, for that matter? She couldnt

12

classify Hannah Devotion Troy, who had announced

her name in full upon first meeting. Most people she

could size up rather quickly, but this peculiar

woman might be either a really good artist or a

thoroughly incompetent dilettante. It was impossible

to predict which was the more likely, and for this

reason she felt stirring within her a genuine desire to

visit the Casa del Olvido. Besides, it would be

interesting to see the interior of a real Mexican

house.

A bellhop with an envelope on a silver tray broke

into her reflections. Seorita Blair? Both girls looked up. Katherine or Constance?

Connie asked.

The bellhop looked puzzled and proffered the

tray, while Kit murmured in sudden alarm, Oh, dear, you dont suppose

Relax, Connie said as she picked up the envelope. Youre as bad as Mother, always sure that a telegram means death or arson. Its for me, anyway, my pet, she added reassuringly. If it were from home it would be addressed to both of us.

Ripping open the envelope, she glanced at the

typed signature and smiled. George Renshaw. You might know! And Ive been away from the office just one day.

But what could he want you for, down here? Kit questioned.

13

Tell you in just a second. Connie scanned the closely typed lines, while her sister and Mrs. Troy

sat in polite silence, waiting. Its nothing especially important, she told them after a minute. Then she explained to Mrs. Troy, I work for an advertising agency in Philadelphia, and one of our accounts is a

big New York importer who is interested, right now,

in a line of Mexican silver jewelry. Something out

of the ordinary, apparently, and they just want me to

look the situation over when I go to Taxco. She glanced at Kit. It wont take long and it may even he fun.

Taxco? Mrs. Troy murmured. Who is the jeweler?

Connie looked back at the typed message. It says hereshe hesitated, then found the name againVictor King.

A waiter was just placing a coffee cup at Mrs.

Troys elbow. Whether she didnt see him, or whether the name caused her to jerk forward

sharply, it was impossible to tell. But the coffee

spilled, missing Kits skirt by inches, and stained the white tablecloth an ugly brown.

Goodness, I am sorry! Mrs. Troy apologized. It was my fault, entirely, said the waiter, in

perfect English.

It doesnt matter, Kit said soothingly. Its just lucky nobody was scalded.

14

But Connie sat in silence, wondering whether she

were unusually suspicious or whether Hannah

Devotion Troy really had jostled the waiters arm because she was startled at the mention of Victor

King.

15

CHAPTER 2

On the Road to Taxco

In the morning Connie was awakened by the church

bells ringing, not sweetly as at home, but in a sort of

happy-go-lucky dissonance. She opened her eyes

slowly, and turned her head to look out over the

Alameda, which at this hour was shrouded in a gray

mist. Sunday, she thought sleepily. Sunday in

Mexico City. She stretched luxuriously and looked

forward to the day.

Kit, in the other twin bed, was still sleeping like a

baby, lying on her side with her hair rumpled on her

forehead. Connie looked at her twin affectionately,

half smiling because even she could see the

astonishing resemblance between them. It was like

looking into a mirror, to look at Kit, even though in

personality the girls were so unlike.

She consulted her wrist watch and was surprised

16

to find that it was eight oclock, because it seemed much earlier, somehow, as though the city had not

yet begun to stir. Yet, when she slipped out of bed

and crossed to the great window, she could see cars

passing and people hurrying across the park sixteen

floors below.

About to close the window, which slid back and

forth within the sheet of glass which formed one

entire wall of the room, Connie hesitated as voices

drifted up to her from the dining balcony below. A

table was set for breakfast and Mrs. Troy was sitting

on one side, while on the other was a middle-aged,

stocky woman in a tweed suit, whose sunglasses and

open guidebook proclaimed her a tourist.

Connie yawned and watched them for a moment,

out of early-morning idleness rather than special

curiosity. At an angle above them and to the right,

she could see and hear without being seen.

The stranger, whose back was toward Connie,

was apparently questioning Mrs. Troy about the cost

of living in Taxco, and the sculptors rather high-pitched voice carried her answer distinctly.

Oh, yes, you can live very cheaply, really. As I should know, I might add, because that is the real

reason I took up residence there. You see, as an

artist, I have to think about cost all the time, but in

Taxco I can afford a servant, because her salary is

only a few pesos, and I can rent a house that would

17

be out of the question elsewhere. I live on

practically nothing, comparatively speaking. She leaned forward. In fact, to be completely frank, Im extremely poor.

Connie frowned, partially because she felt it was

in bad taste to be so confidential with a person who

was, if her guess was correct, a casual traveling

acquaintance. But as she turned away from the

window she was aware of a deeper disturbance. Mrs.

Troys words and her conduct did not fit. She traveled luxuriously, yet complained of poverty.

Connie stood hesitant in the middle of the floor,

analyzing the reason for this. She admitted to herself

that the sculptors clothes were cheap and flimsy, her shoes worn, her purse and gloves old and

shabby. Yet Hannah Devotion had been traveling

first-class on the plane, and she was staying at a

first-class hotel and ordering whatever happened to

appeal to her on the menu. Could she have been

lying to her breakfast companion, Connie wondered,

and if so, why?

Why? she asked herself aloud. Kit blinked and propped herself up on one elbow.

Why what? Connie grinned. Why stay in bed on a beautiful

day? Kit threw a pillow at her, and Connie caught it

neatly. This is a vacation, I thought, not a

18

marathon. Kit turned away from the light and pretended to be going back to sleep. I wish you wouldnt be quite so vigorous.

And I wish youd be a little more so, Connie suggested amiably, and threw the pillow back with

straight-armed accuracy.

Oh, all right, Kit complained. She sat up and slipped her feet into mules unhurriedly, then made

an unexpected dash for the bathroom. Beat you! she cried.

Connie laughed. Kit, youre an idiot! she scolded, then wrinkled her nose in amusement.

Gosh, its good to be with you. I wish youd get a job in Philadelphia. Then we could take an

apartment togetherand everything. But Kit, turning serious, shook her head.

Meadowbrook is where I belong. Im essentially a small-town girl. And I suppose youll never believe it, but I really like working with Dad in the hardware

store. The telephone rang, and Connie turned away to

answer it.

Is this Miss BlairMiss Connie Blair? asked a masculine voice. Yes, it is.

Oh, fine! Im glad I caught you. This is Peter Dawson speaking.

Peter who? Peter Dawson. Im Victor Kings stepson, and I

19

happen to be in Mexico City for the week end. Yes? Well, Dad just wondered if I couldnt drive you

to Taxco, instead of you having to take a bus or hire

a car, I mean. Connie smiled at the typically American voice

and decided that Peter Dawson sounded young and

friendly. Goodness, news travels fast, she said into the mouthpiece. I didnt dream Mr. King even knew I was in town.

He was talking to New York yesterday, I think, came the quick reply. But were getting off the point. I want to know if youll accept me as a chauffeur. Dawson, at your service.

Let me think a minute, Connie suggested. Sure. Sure. Take your time. Connie held a hand over the mouthpiece. Weve

been offered a free ride to Taxco by Victor Kings stepson. He sounds nice. Want me to accept?

Brushing her hair as she stood in the bathroom

door, Kit considered. Why not? Just so we dont have to leave right away.

Into the telephone Connie said, Thats very kind, Im sure. But what time would we have to be ready?

Oh, sometime this afternoon. Say around three oclock? suggested the voice at the other end of the wire.

20

That sounds perfect, Connie agreed. She nodded toward her sister and whispered, Three oclock?

Kit smiled her approval, as Connie said, In the lobby? Splendid. Thank you again, Mr. Dawson.

Just call me Pete, advised the boyish voice. Pete, then. Good-by. Kit whistled softly in amusement, and teased,

Well, now that were on a first-name basis But Connie interrupted. Hurry up, you

slowpoke! Were wasting the entire day! However, after a slow start, Kit swung into action

and showered and dressed in ten minutes. After a

quick breakfast on the balcony, from which Mrs.

Troy had disappeared, the girls went to church and

then walked to the Palace of Fine Arts to see the

showing of the treasured glass curtain, made by

Tiffany of New York, which Kits guidebook told her was a Sunday morning must.

It proved to be a huge curtain of yard-square

sections of colored glass representing the twin

volcanoes, Popocatepetl and Ixtacihuatl, which stand

guard over Mexico City. By the use of complicated

lighting from behind the curtain, an illusion was

given of dawn breaking over the snow-capped

peaks. Under cover of the accompanying music, Kit

whispered, If youre interested, the curtain weighs twenty-two tons and cost forty-seven thousand

21

dollars. Connie nodded, without hearing. Her mind had

drifted away from the spectacle to return to Hannah

Devotion Troy. The woman was beginning to

interest her more and more. She wished she had not

been slightly prejudiced by her bizarre appearance,

and had tried to become better acquainted. Certainly

it wouldnt have been difficult. Mrs. Troy seemed more than ready to talk.

Connie was always intrigued more by people than

things, but Kit proved to be an enthusiastic

sightseer, and hurried her sister from the Bellas

Artes back to the hotel, where they had arranged for

a car to pick them up and take them to the floating

gardens of Xochimilco.

Their driver proved to be highly informed and

articulate, and the twins spent a very interesting

morning, although the term floating gardens was a misnomer. More correctly, they found themselves

being poled through canals on a gaily decorated

launch, which was constantly bumped and crowded

by similar launches bearing tourists or Mexican

families on Sunday picnics. Flower sellers floated

by in small boats, food and drink vendors abounded,

and Mexican orchestras on other launches played

such universal favorites as Guadalajara and Jarabe Tapatio for a few pesos.

Connie and Kit arrived back at their hotel just in

22

time for a late lunch, which left them only a few

minutes to pack before meeting Peter Dawson in the

lobby.

The scene today was very different from the

siesta lull during which they had arrived yesterday.

People were hailing taxis, jostling one another, and

shouting.

I wonder where everyone is going? Connie asked aloud. Then she whispered to Kit, The joints really jumping, as Toby would say.

The thought of her younger brothers schoolboy slang made Kits eyes grow dreamy for a moment. Well have to buy Toby a special sort of present, she reminded Connie.

Something cool! Connies eyes twinkled. Ill buy him one of those big sombreros if youll wear it home.

By this time they had worked their way through

the crowd of tourists in the lobby, and had arrived,

along with the boy carrying their luggage, on the

pavement outside the hotel. Cars of all descriptions

bearing the sign Libre, meaning taxi, in their

windshields, crowded the street, and every tourist in

Mexico City seemed to be going somewhere.

A young man, with short red hair, a sport jacket,

and a pair of dirty white-duck shoes, detached

himself from the throng. He was hurrying toward the

revolving doors of the hotel when Connie, following

23

a hunch, stepped into his path. Pardon me, but are you Peter Dawson? she asked.

You bet! Connie Blair? He shook hands with a lit in grip. Gosh, youre the only girl in the world Ive ever known to be on time.

Then his jaw dropped as his eyes encountered

Kit. My gosh, dont tell me there are two of you! Am I seeing double, or what?

Connie laughed. This is my twin sister, Katherine. Kit for short, she explained. I guess Reid and Renshaw forgot to mention to Mr. King

that were down here together on a vacation trip. No matter. Except that Ill never be able to keep

you straight. Peters direct, copper-colored eyes glanced from one girl to the other and he shook his

head. Talk about identical! Then he addressed his attention to the bellhop,

who was standing by with the luggage, and helped

him stow it in the rear of a convertible pulled in

among the taxis at the curb. The twins noted with

youthful pleasure that the top was down. The

afternoon was balmy and the sun was bright. It

should prove to be a delightful drive!

But before they could head for the suburbs they

had to get out of the snarl of traffic. Where is everybody going? Connie asked, after the three of them were installed in the front seat of the car.

To the bullfights, Peter replied promptly.

24

Within another hour fifty thousand people will be fighting their way into the Plaza. The fights are the

only thing in Mexico, he added with a chuckle, that ever begin on time.

One thing I dont want to go to, murmured Kit with an instinctive shudder, is a bullfight.

Ill shake on that, responded Peter. The fiesta brava holds no appeal for me.

Have you ever seen one? Connie asked, wondering whether her own intellectual curiosity

wouldnt demand that she witness, just once, an art which had become a national passion.

No, Peter confessed, nor do I ever intend to. Maybe youll think Im stuffy, but I just dont approve of the whole idea. Any more than I do of

gambling. Gambling? Connie probed. You mean poker

and such? I mean anything on which a person can bet and

lose big sums of moneyhorse racing, the lottery, cockfighting, all the rest of it. Theres something about the gambling urge that can ruin a man.

Sometimes I think its almost as much of a curse as drink. Then suddenly Peter laughed as though he were amused at his own intense feeling. But how did we ever get so serious? Its a swell afternoon. Lets laugh and have fun like other people, as the saying goes.

25

The traffic began to thin when they reached the

Insurgentes Boulevard, and Peter sped toward the

southern outskirts of the city with practiced ease. He

was as competent a conversationalist as a driver, and

between getting acquainted with one another and

talking about the territory through which they were

traveling, time fled.

A superhighway led to Cuernavaca, climbing to a

scenic wonderland at ten thousand feet and then

dropping into a fertile valley where banana trees,

palms, and all sorts of tropical flowers grew. The

girls plied Peter with questions until he cried for

mercy.

Hey, he told them, my names Dawson, not Baedeker! I know a little about Mexico, but not a

lot. After all, Ive only been here a few weeks. But I thought you lived here, Connie said. Peter shook his head, his crisp short hair glinting

in the sunlight like burnished copper. I go to school in the StatesAntioch.

Oh! said Connie, interested, because she knew of the college. Ive always been interested in the system of alternating work with study. What are you

majoring in? Business administration, said Peter promptly.

Thats why Im here. Im working for my stepfather for a while as part of my training, trying

to help him with his proposed expansion. But I must

26

admit its slow going. System isnt a popular word down here.

Connie laughed and suggested shrewdly,

Maana trouble? And how! Kit wriggled lazily. I think its a very pleasant

contrast to our way of life. Im for it. Youre on vacation, Peter reminded her with a

grin. Youre not trying to get things done. In the center of town Peter circled a tree-filled

plaza and parked in front of Corts Palace, which, he told the twins, was one of the oldest buildings in

the Western Hemisphere. They went up to a rear

balcony to look at a famous Diego Rivera mural,

then walked to a nearby hotel for a cold drink.

Both Kit and Connie were so enchanted with the

town that Peter couldnt resist driving them around some of the other interesting sections, and it was

twilight before they once more started toward

Taxco.

Goodness, I suppose well be awfully late for dinner, Kit murmured to Connie in mild concern.

Where are you staying? I forgot to ask, said Peter.

The Victoria, Connie told him. Oh, thats fine. Youll love it. The view from the

terrace is marvelous. All Taxco is spread out at your

feet. Then he turned to Kit. And as for worrying

27

about the dinner hour, dont give it a second thought. People in Mexico dine around nine oclock, or even as late as ten. Wish we could have dinner

together but I have a previous engagement. The road began to climb again, winding into

mountains, past cornfields which seemed to be

planted in perpendicular stripes. Traffic thinned to .i

trickle, then disappeared entirely, and the

convertible twisted up one hill and down another

until Kit claimed that she felt as though she were

traveling on a roller coaster in an amusement park.

Darkness thickened as they shot down into the

valleys, but the mountains were still bathed in an

eerie gray light which proceeds the true night. As

the tires squealed around a particularly abrupt curve,

they sighted a stalled car on the road ahead and a

man signaled Peter to a stop.

As the convertible drew up beside him, Connies and Kits eyes lit up with recognition. It was Cedric Maitland Mole of Lloyds of London, and he was

still wearing his pinstriped suit.

Why, hello, Mr. Mole said at once. You girls were on the plane coming down. Then he added quickly, directing his explanation to Peter, I seem to have broken the fan belt on this car. Could I

trouble you for a lift into town? No trouble at all, Peter said courteously. But I

think Id better push you to the side of the road first.

28

Less chance of getting sideswiped, dont you think?

This operation effected, Mr. Mole got out his

traveling bag and climbed into the back seat. Then,

unaware that the twins already knew his name, he

introduced himself, and they did the same.

Peter was the last to speak. Im Peter Dawson. I dont live in Taxco but my stepfather does, and I think you may get faster service if I drop you at the

garage he uses. Just mention that youre a friend of Mr. Victor Kings.

Connie was sitting on the outside, half turned

around, with her arm across the back of the seat. She

saw Mr. Mole start in surprise, then recover himself

in time to say, quite normally, Thank you, Mr. Dawson. Thats very kind.

29

CHAPTER 3

The Silver Shop

Connie let the others make conversation for a while

as she sat thinking. I didnt imagine it, she told herself. Cedric Mole definitely recognized Victor Kings name. I wonder if they know each other?

From the back seat Mr. Mole made no

explanation. The typical self-contained Britisher, he

talked in short, authoritative sentences which to the

American ear seemed clipped and almost smug.

Certainly he wasnt the sort of person to whom Connie warmed, yet she was curious about his

business in Taxco. And if he knew Victor King, why

didnt he come right out and say so? Why was it necessary to be so secretive?

Of course, she argued, perhaps it wasnt necessary. Perhaps it was just the nature of the

fellow to be uncommunicative. Maybe he even

30

considered it his duty, as a representative of Lloyds

of London, to admit nothing, reveal nothing. But

curiosity, as usual, nagged her like a mosquito.

A sharp turn to the right brought the highway to

an end. It was replaced by a cobblestoned road

which narrowed as it approached the town, and

within a few minutes Peter dropped Mr. Mole off at

a garage.

Now the going became really slow. The

convertibles headlights illuminated natives, chickens, pigs, miners with metal helmets, and

children scurrying along in the dark. Stores and

houses flush with the street were swarming with

activity, and the girls were aware of old walls with

carved doorways and lanterns jutting out at odd

angles.

Then, suddenly, the road became a veritable

canyon, which reminded Connie of a picture

postcard she had once received from Carcassonne,

in France. In a few minutes well be coming into the main plaza, or Zcalo, Peter said. This is the loafing place of the foreign colony. At this time of

evening youll see plenty of life. The girls discovered he was right. The square

seemed to be swarming with people. From all sides,

shops spilled light upon huge Indian laurel trees.

These arched like canopies over green benches

occupied by Mexicans, Indians, and Americans who

31

were gossiping, laughing, or simply sitting and

enjoying the passing show.

Against the night sky were silhouetted the towers

of the beautiful church of Santa Prisca, which

dominated one side of the square. To the colorful

scene it lent a special enchantment, almost like a

benediction. Connie exclaimed, Isnt this wonderful!

Peter leaned forward and smiled at her. I knew youd like Taxco, he said.

Kit, meanwhile, was sniffing the delicious odors

of Mexican dishes being cooked on the square on

little charcoal braziers. Mmm, smell! She sighed. Hungry? Peter asked, laughing. I always seem to be hungry today, Connie

joined in. Maybe its the altitude. She looked longingly at the stands piled high with tropical fruits

and local sweetmeats. Puestos, Peter called them, and Connie repeated the word after him. She

intended to brush up on her high-school Spanish

while she was in Mexico. Kit, however, was content

to sit and just absorb the atmosphere of the place. It

was very foreign, quite different from anything she

had ever seen.

All too soon, it seemed to her, they had circled

the Zcalo and were again winding up, up, up along

a street so narrow that two cars could not pass. The

Victoria, as Peter had promised, had a superb

32

location. Built into a cliff, it commanded a view of

the entire city, and after Peter had left them, Connie

and Kit were shown to a room with a private

balcony which looked down on a thousand twinkling

lights. A waning moon picked out the towers of the

church and the rooftops of casitas clinging to the

mountainside in delightful disorder.

Lets stay forever! Kit proposed. I wonder what it would be like really to live

here? Connie asked thoughtfully. For an American, I mean? I can understand how an artist or

a writer might get used to the tempo, but for a

business person I should think it would be difficult. Are you thinking of Peter? Hes nice, isnt he?

Sort ofwholesome. Connie nodded, agreeing to this description, but

then said, I was thinking of Victor King. But, Connie, you dont even know him, Kit

protested.

Im going totomorrow morning, Connie promised. Then Im going to wire Reid and Renshaw and finish up this business, so that I can

turn turista for the rest of the trip. This prediction, however, turned out to be wrong,

for the next morning Peter phoned, apologetically,

before breakfast, and told Connie that his father and

he had to drive to Mexico City on an unexpected

errand, and that Mr. King wouldnt be able to see

33

Connie until the following day.

It doesnt really matter, Connie told Kit, even though she was anxious to get anything that related

to business behind her. Well go shopping and sight-seeing for a whole long lovely morning.

They did just that, wandering in and out of the

little silver shops that lined the cobbled streets, and

buying identical full-skirted dresses at an

establishment which specialized in the peasant

cottons Americans loved.

They lunched in the sun on the hotel terrace,

wandered down to the market below the square,

visited the church and stood in quiet admiration

before each of its twelve altars, then came out to sit

in the square at twilight and watch the world go by.

It is said that at least once a day almost everyone

in Taxco has reason to cross the Zcalo, and this

seemed to be true. Home-going school children in

uniforms, artists with easels tucked under their arms,

Indian mothers with nursing babies wrapped tightly

in the long scarves known as rebozos, stray dogs,

laden donkeys, a mamma pig and her children out

for a walkthe procession was endless! So it didnt surprise Connie that she caught a glimpse of Cedric

Mole, stony-faced and preoccupied, getting up from

a distant bench, nor was it particularly unexpected

when she and Kit came face to face with Hannah

Devotion Troy outside the post office.

34

Dressed for shopping in a flowered chiffon dress,

nurses shoes, and a white felt hat, Mrs. Troy was cordial but obviously in a hurry. Now do come see me, she urged the twins. Ill be home all day tomorrow, and you wont have a bit of trouble finding my house. Just turn down Calle del Arco and

ask at the corner. Everybody knows the Casa del

Olvido. What does olvido mean in English? Connie

asked.

Forgetfulness, said Mrs. Troy. The House of Forgetfulness, murmured Connie

as the sculptor turned away. A curious name, isnt it?

Its rather pretty, Kit said. Or rather sinister, Connie suggested slowly,

upon which her sister stamped her foot in

exasperation. Theres nothing one bit sinister about Mrs. Troy, she said sharply. Shes just artistic and peculiar andand somehow I think maybe shes almost tragic, but I dont know why.

Tragic? Connie snatched at the word, then shook her head.

Havent you noticed her eyes when shes off guard? Kit asked. Sometimes she looks sad, or frightened, or something. I cant quite define the expression, but Id like to know more about her.

Connie laughed. You sound like me, not like

35

yourself at all! she teased. Why dont you call on her in the morning while Im seeing Victor King? She may open up to one person when she wouldnt with the two of us.

Kit decided to follow this suggestion, and Connie

promised to join her there after she had visited the

silver factory. The next morning Connie hurried off

immediately after breakfast, but Kit went back to

their room.

She had put her white canvas play shoes to dry on

the balcony coping, after scrubbing them with soap

and water. They were the only low-heeled slippers

she had brought with her, and she wanted to change,

because it was completely impossible to stay upright

on Taxco cobblestones in anything but flats. But

when she arrived in her room she found that one

slipper was missing, and a few minutes later, while

she was still leaning over the balcony to see if it

could possibly have dropped into the garden below,

a little chambermaid came running through the door,

breathless and stricken.

There had been a disaster, she explained in

broken English. The shoe had been knocked off the

railing by her mop, and when she had arrived in the

garden to recapture it, a dog was disappearing under

the gate with the object in his mouth!

The maid had given chase, but too late! With

tears in her eyes she apologized. What could she do?

36

It doesnt really matter, Kit told her, speaking very slowly, as one would to a child. They were almost worn out, anyway. And Ive been wanting to buy some huaraches, so this will give me a chance.

Go to the market, the maid advised. They are cheaper there. Still begging the seoritas forgiveness for her stupidity, she backed out the

doorway.

Connie, meanwhile, walked quickly down the

steep steps which led to the road. Here, in the early

morning, there was a different kind of traffic. Trim

little maids with market baskets swinging from their

brown arms hurried along in one direction, while

school children scurried in another, shouting and

laughing and swinging their books, which were

bound by old-fashioned straps. The cool mountain

air touched Connies face like a kiss, and she smiled at a dark-skinned baby sitting on a doorstep. Then

she stopped to get her bearings in the Zcalo and

headed in the direction of the King workshop and

showrooms, which she had already seen from a

distance on the previous day.

She hoped she would have a chance to talk with

some of the artisans, because back home in

Philadelphia she had been brushing up on her

Spanish with language records, and she would

welcome a chance to test her skill. As she climbed

the steep cobbled footpath which led up the

37

mountainside, she reviewed some of the words she

might need.

She knew that taller was the word for workshop

and that tienda was the word for store, and the

simple questions she would wish to ask were not

difficult to express.

Musing, she reached her destination, a pink

plaster building set flush with the narrow street. The

name Victor was inscribed in elaborate black script at eye level on the wall, and the inevitable

lantern cast a shadow on the tinted paint. An arrow

indicated that the entrance was at second-story level,

and a steep tiled staircase led to a heavily carved

door. Connie walked in a trifle timidly.

Then, expecting to find either Mr. King or an

assistant in the display room, she stopped in

surprise. The only person in the room was

examining a silver bowl. His back, although turned

toward her, was immediately recognizable. It was

Cedric Maitland Mole.

Her footsteps were quite audible. He turned

toward the girl in the doorway and raised his

eyebrows in apparent interest. Ah, good morning, Miss Blair.

Good morning, Connie said, a trifle nonplused. I was expecting Mr. King.

Before Mr. Mole could answer, a slender Indian

lad appeared and said in halting English, Mr. King

38

will be in very shortly. Meanwhile, would you like

to see the taller? He stood aside and indicated the way.

The what? Mr. Mole frowned. The factory, Connie explained. Gracias, she

said to the boy. Id like to very much. She smiled and followed the guide, while Mr. Mole rather

grudgingly trailed along behind.

The workrooms were hot and noisy, but not

crowded. Several men, stripped to the waist, were

hammering away on intricate jewelry designs.

Connie stopped near one of them and asked a couple

of questions in careful Spanish, and the man nodded

understandingly and answered her slowly, seeming

pleased when she signified that she understood.

Mr. Mole, who apparently disdained any attempt

to speak the artisans language, asked in English, Is that an authentic Aztec design? When the workman shook his head in bewilderment, Mr. Mole repeated

the question more slowly, his voice rising to a shout.

Apparently he decided that the man was hard of

hearing or stupid; Connie couldnt decide which. She moved on to look over the shoulder of a boy

who appeared to be only about ten years old, but

who was working with the surety of an expert. That is very beautiful, she told him in Spanish, admiring the necklace he was fashioning from silver.

The lad looked up at her and smiled. S.

39

Gracias, Seorita! His eyes followed her bright head as she moved about the room.

As she went from one artisan to the other her

mind was busy. None of the men seemed to be

working on big pieces, and she noticed that several

of the chairs were empty. Apparently the

establishment was not operating at top speed. She

wondered, as she walked, how much production

could be stepped up if Victor King should sign a big

New York contract. In maana land, would it be

possible to institute American methods? She wasnt sure. People here moved at such a leisurely pace.

Mr. Mole had apparently tired of the factory and

returned to the showroom, so she moved over to the

guide and thanked him for his courtesy, preparing to

follow the English visitor.

It is all very interesting, she told him in Spanish, but arent you shorthanded? There are many empty seats.

The young man nodded sadly. S. For two weeks now there has been little work. But soon things will

be better. He seemed quite confident. Thats good, Connie told him, and thanked him

again. Then she walked through a small office,

where a padlocked wooden cupboard occupied one

wall, and rejoined Mr. Mole.

The Englishman was staring moodily out the

window when she came into the room, but when

40

Connie spoke, he whirled around, then crossed the

room in a few rapid steps. Young lady, he told her very softly, I dont know your business here but I think I should warn you to be careful in your

dealings. His frown, either from concern or from anger,

was very intense. Butbut Connie started to protest. At that moment, however, there came an

interruption. Running up the steps from the street

came a big sandy-haired man in a white linen suit.

Every inch of him breathed energy and bounce.

Even his walk was hearty, and it reminded Connie

of a Texan who has spent many hours riding the

range. His smile was broad, his eyes were bright,

and his glance took in the situation quickly.

Sorry to be late, he said. Im Victor King. Mr. King looked so overwhelmingly normal that

Connie felt relieved. Whatever Mr. Mole was trying

to warn her of she didnt know, but certainly the appearance of this bluff, hearty American was a

decided relief. She smiled and introduced herself,

but before she had an opportunity to continue, Mr.

King said, Id like to show you around a bit, Miss Blair, but I have a definite appointment with this

gentleman. I wonder if you could come back this

afternoon? Of course, Connie agreed immediately. She

nodded to Mr. Mole and made a quick and graceful

41

exit. About two oclock? she asked from the door. Splendid! Mr. Kings resonant voice echoed in

the stairwell. Sales personality plus, thought Connie, as she walked out into the sunlight. This, a I

least, was something she could understand.

On the sloping street, however, she stood for a

moment irresolute. What should she do with the rest

of the morning? The answer came quickly. Shed go and join Kit at the Casa del Olvido. There was no

point to wandering around the byways of Taxco

alone.

42

CHAPTER 4

House of Forgetfulness

With downcast eyes, Kit picked her way down the

cobbled street, stepping from stone to stone like a

careful cat. No wonder there was a little rhyme of

advice to visitors:

To avoid a fiasco and agonized squeals Dont come to Taxco without flat heels!

She considered taking her shoes off and going

barefoot, then decided this might look too

conspicuous and struggled on. Taking the

chambermaids advice, she headed for the open-air market, only to discover that the approach to it was

breath-takingly steep and rugged. Steps started

conventionally down a cliff, then disappeared as

though workmen had wearied of their task, to be

43

replaced with slippery cobblestones which looked

like fat pillows embedded in the mountainside.

To live in Taxco you need to be three-quarters mountain goat, muttered Kit to herself as she teetered at the top. At this point, I give up.

She wished that she had stopped at a shoe shop in

the Plaza de San Juan, on her way from the hotel,

but since she was now closer to the Casa del Olvido

than to that little square, she decided to pay her call

on Hannah Devotion Troy before returning for the

shoes.

It wasnt too far, she kept telling herself. Stopping to check directions, she found the right

street. The cobblestones were rough, the soles of her

slippers thin. Kit walked on grimly. Keeping close

to the walls of the buildings which hugged the

narrow street, she arrived at her destination

thankfully.

A great grilled iron gate was set into the side of a

sheer wall, and Kit remembered that Mrs. Troy had

explained that the house was built around a patio,

into which horses had been driven in earlier days.

Since there was no sign of a bell or a knocker, and

since the gate was standing ajar, Kit walked through,

to find herself in an enchanting paved courtyard

dappled with sunlight and cheery with bird song.

Balconies ringed the patio, and in a corner an

ancient jacaranda tree leaned invitingly forward,

44

dripping its clusters of blue blossoms on the uneven

cobbles which persisted even here!

In the exact center of the court was an octagonal

stone well, antique, crumbling, and apparently long-

since abandoned, because it was topped by the most

enormous bird cage Kit had ever seen.

It was from this cage that the trilling and singing

was coming, and she stood for a while, her head

lilted to one side, trying to listen very carefully so

that she could sort out the various birds. Mrs. Troy

hadnt mentioned that she owned an aviary! Aside from this background music, however, the

place was very quiet. There was no sign of life on

the balcony, and no clatter of pots and pans betrayed

the whereabouts of the kitchen wing. After the

incessant movement of people and burros through

the citys streets, the peacefulness appealed to Kit. She feasted her eyes on the blooming flowersgeraniums, poinsettias, and all manner of annuals

sprawling over the stones in lavish abundanceand decided that this must make a perfect retreat for an

artist. It had atmosphere and dignity.

So much dignity, in fact, that Kit wondered how

to announce herself. It seemed brash and almost

disrespectful to shout a loud hello! Yet she hesitated to knock on any of the closed doors which

opened off the courtyard. She supposed if she just

stood here a while somebody was bound to turn up.

45

It was ten minutes, however, before a little Indian

criada, or housemaid, came hurrying through the

archway at the opposite end of the court. She saw

Kit and looked mildly surprised, then came over

solemnly and said, Buenos das, Seorita. You wish to see Mrs. Troy?

Relieved that the girl could speak a little English,

Kit said, YesI didif I wont be disturbing her. She asked me to call.

S. The maid seemed to understand perfectly, and Kit decided that association with an American

must have given her a working knowledge of the

language. Mrs. Troy is still sleeping, but she should be down in a very little while now. She always has

coffee in the patio at ten. The maid indicated a chaise and a couple of low chairs on the far side of

the court. Wont you sit down, Seorita, and make yourself comfortable?

Thank you, Kit said, smiling. She glanced at her wrist watch and found that if Mrs. Troy were

prompt, she had only about twelve minutes to wait.

The little maid bobbed a sort of primitive curtsy

and hurried off to market, her black braids swinging,

her empty basket held lightly in one hand. Unlike

the older women, she wore no rebozo, and Kit

noticed that her dress, though faded from much

washing, was fresh and clean. Kit decided that living

in Taxco had even more appeal than she had

46

previously thought. It had been a long time since her

mother in Meadowbrook, Pennsylvania, had been

able to afford full-time help!

A boy came into the court, a basket of bread on

his back, and thinking Kit belonged here, handed her

a long, crusty loaf and backed out, smiling and

nodding.

Alone once more, she didnt go at once to compose herself in a chair, as the maid had

suggested. There was so much about this house that

was fascinating, so much in the courtyard to look at

and examine. Even the small cobbles laid in

geometric patterns beneath her feet were unusual

and interesting, because every once in a while the

design suddenly blossomed into strange animals and

other shapes. There were a crab, a star, and a bull,

and, close to the octagonal well, a shape like a half-

moon.

Kit was walking toward it, picking out the various

patterns with interest, when her heel turned on a

broken stone and she lurched forward, thrusting out

a hand to catch herself against the wells edge. But her palm hit the rim of the aviary, and, instead of

offering her support, it gave way like a wagon being

pushed.

Too late to save herself, caught off balance with

one arm helplessly flailing in mid-air, Kit fell

forward. The crack with which her temple hit the

47

stone of the fountain was muffled by the trilling of

the birds, but as blackness stabbed at her eyes she

heard them, like a bewildered chorus, singing,

Cheep, cheep, che-weedle-weedle-wee. Im going to faint, she thought. Why, how

ridiculous! And then the whirling darkness and the pain in her temple met and merged and she slipped

into the vortex which was oblivion, and crumpled,

white-faced and unconscious, to the patio floor.

48

CHAPTER 5

More Than Meets the Eye

In no particular hurry, Connie sauntered down the

Calle Guadalupe and stopped to watch a number of

women rubbing clothes on stone boards which were

set into the coping around a shallow pool of cold

water. They were talking and gossiping as they

worked, and seemed quite happy about their task,

although in contrast to the automatic washing

machines used at home it seemed like back-breaking

labor to the American girl.

Following the directions Mrs. Troy had given her,

Connie made her way slowly toward the Casa del

Olvido. As she walked she became more and more

entranced with Taxco. Even the names of the streets

were strange and amusingthe Street of the Dark Supper, the Plaza of the Roosters, the Street of the

Little Birds, the Butchers Place. Only one was

49

sinister. This, the Street of Death, ran on the north

side of the Santa Prisca, where a little stone skeleton

perched on the church wall. Connie hurried past this

macabre figure, glad that she was walking this way

in sunlight, not in the dark.

Indians in white wrap-around pants, matrons

coming from market, and donkeys bearing loads of

faggots, tile, charcoal, even furniture, plodded along

beside her, and she seemed to arrive at the iron door

of the Casa del Olvido almost too soon. Like Kit,

she pushed it open because she could find no bell,

but unlike Kit, she did not stand entranced at the

peacefulness of the patio scene, because there before

her was Mrs. Troy, on her knees beside the prostrate

figure of her sister.

Whats happened? cried Connie in alarm, starting forward. It was obvious that Kit had been

hurt.

Mrs. Troy looked up in concern. I dont know. She seems to have hit her head. Lifting a wet cloth she was holding to Kits temple, she added, At least theres quite a bump.

Connies eyes narrowed. A bump or a blow? She wondered. Somehow the peace and beauty of the

patio failed to impress her, and there flashed into her

mind once more the ominous skeleton in the Street

of Death.

Sinking down to the cobblestones, she cradled

50

Kits head in her lap. Mrs. Troy started to wring her hands and moaned, I dont understand how she could have fallen.

Connie agreed with her. Neither do I, she said. But she must have! Hannah Devotion insisted

with a little gasp. There was no one here. I was just getting up, and I came out on the balcony, when

When what? Connie asked, but before her hostess could reply Kit stirred. Her eyelids fluttered,

then opened, and she put a languid hand to her

forehead. Ouch, she murmured expressively. Just lie still a few minutes, Connie warned her.

You fainted, Kit. I know, her twin agreed. I remember. I turned

my ankle, I think. You hit your head, Connie told her. Youll be

all right in a little while. I think Ill go and make some coffee. We all

need it, suggested Mrs. Troy in a tremulous voice. She tottered off, looking especially frail and

uncertain of herself, as though she too might at any

minute collapse.

Connie watched until she was sure Mrs. Troy was

out of earshot, then clutched Kits arm. What really happened? she asked quickly. Did you fall or were you attacked?

Rubbing her forehead ruefully, Kit repeated,

Attacked?

51

52

Did somebody hit you, I mean? Kit frowned. I dont think so. I remember

turning my ankle, and making a grab for the bird

cage, and the darned thing seemed to move. Move? It was Connies turn to look puzzled.

She got to her feet and went over to the aviary,

tugging and pushing at the bars with both hands. It seems perfectly secure now.

Kit sat up. Does it? Maybe I imagined Here! Connie gave her sister a hand, helping

her to her feet, then steadying her. Take it easy, she suggested as, together, they walked toward a

chair.

Im all right now, Kit reassured her. What a stupid thing to dojust because I was wearing high heels.

She was explaining the predicament in which the

absconding dog had left her when Mrs. Troy arrived

with a coffee tray in her hands. She smiled at Kit in

relief as she handed her a cup of the steaming liquid.

Drink it black, she advised. It will help your head.

Kit did as she was told, and after about ten

minutes was able to assure both her sister and her

hostess that only a vestige of a headache and the

bump on her forehead remained to remind her of the

accident. Im sorry to have caused you any concern, she apologized. And now do let me tell

53

you how much I admire this beautiful house! It is nice, isnt it? agreed Mrs. Troy. I feel so

fortunate to be able to rent it. After a bit Ill show you my studio.

But before she could carry out this promise

another visitor arrived, announced by the returning

maid. Excuse me, please, she said to Mrs. Troy, but there is a gentleman outside who would like to see you. She handed her employer a card.

With a sixth sense Connie guessed the

gentlemans identity even before he entered. It was Mr. Cedric Mole who tramped across the courtyard

behind the little brown-skinned maid when she

reappeared.

He introduced himself to Mrs. Troy with great

propriety, then acknowledged the presence of the

twins with unconcealed surprise. To Kit he said,

Good morning, for the second time. Connie realized, at that moment, that since they

were dressed alike in the cottons they had purchased

the afternoon before, he had mistaken her identity.

As Kit opened her mouth to correct him, he

interrupted. Goodness! Where did you get that bruise?

It was Hannah Troy who hastened to explain,

apologizing for the uneven cobblestones in the patio

and insisting, Ive almost fallen myself, several times. Mr. Mole listened to her with conspicuous

54

attention. His eyes were narrowed, and it seemed to

Connie that he was trying to size her up.

For that matter, Connie herself was still trying to

size up Mrs. Troy. Her fluttery mannerisms, her

outlandish clothes, and the look of vague alarm in

her pale-blue eyes spelled nothing in particular.

Perhaps, as Kit had suggested, they were personality

trappings which cloaked a tragedy in her past. Her

rather anxious hospitality seemed to indicate the

need for companionship, yet on the other hand she

had told the twins she loved Taxco because it was a

quiet place in which to work.

Feeling quite at sea, Connie listened while Mr.

Mole asked if Mrs. Troy might be able to spare him

a few minutes alone. Now what can he want with her? Connie whispered to Kit as soon as the two had disappeared within the house. Hes here on a job; thats sure. But I dont know whether hes particularly interested in Mr. King or in Hannah

Devotion Troy. Why Mr. King? Kit queried. Because Mole was at Victor Kings this

morning. Light dawns, murmured Kit. He spoke to me

as though I were you. Connie shrugged. It doesnt matter. But what

does matter is that something is going on that I dont understand. Theres more here than meets the eye.

55

Kit groaned. Now, Connie, please dont start imagining things!

Im imagining nothing, Connie insisted. Mr. Mole is a Lloyds of London man, and Lloyds isnt the sort of outfit to send an investigator to a little

town like Taxco without good reason. But what can he be investigating? asked Kit

rather wearily.

Thats what Ive got to find outand soonif Im going to wire Reid and Renshaw any kind of satisfactory report on Mr. King.

You could always ask him, suggested Kit, who favored the direct approach. Mr. Mole, I mean.

I could. But would he tell me? He might. Connie considered this statement. You may have

something there, she admitted. But first Ill have to manufacture a chance to see him alone.

That shouldnt be hard, replied Kit. If Hannah invites us to lunch, we could put her off, and all

leave together. Then I could go on to the shoe store

and you two could have a chat. All right, Connie agreed. And listen, Kit. For

today, let him go on thinking that Im you. But why? Call it a hunch, Connie said with a shrug. I

think maybe something might develop, thats all. At that moment Mrs. Troy and Mr. Mole

56

returned, and she didnt have time to elaborate on her statement. Mrs. Troy seemed very pale and

rather harassed, but she was hospitable enough,

urging Mr. Mole to remain and visit her studio along

with the twins, because she had some new silver

designs she especially wanted them to see.

Mr. Mole accepted the invitation readily, and

together they were led along the balcony to a huge

studio room with a north light. This overlooked a

charming garden enclosed by a high wall with

steppingstones jutting out to form crude footholds to

the top. Bougainvillea flamed against the roof of a

small summerhouse, and somewhere in the distance

a Mexican was singing a mournful song. Mrs. Troy

commented on the tune sagely. It is said that these people are only happy when they are sad.

Mr. Mole chuckled. Do you think that is true? Perhaps, Mrs. Troy replied. I dont really

know. There was something in her refusal to commit

herself on even this unimportant point that put

Connie on the alert. She listened with seeming

attention while Mrs. Troy showed them her jewelry

designs, adapted from Aztec antiques, and described

the marriage of metals in copper and silver, which were welded so beautifully that they seemed to be

all of one piece. But all the while she was admiring

the designs, which were really very artistic and

57

unusual, she was also trying to fathom the

personality of the woman, and she was certain that

Mr. Mole was occupied with the same problem.

What manner of person was this, who cloaked

what Connie now recognized as real ability in the

fluttery mannerisms of a turn-of-the-century

spinster? As she glanced from the necklaces and

bracelets on the table to the several pieces of

unfinished sculpture in another part of the room she

came to one conclusion. At least the woman was no

dilettante.

Mrs. Troy did not ask the girls to lunch. The

mornings accident had upset her, she apologized, and she had acquired a splitting headache. If they

would excuse her and come another time, she

thought she would go to her room and lie down.

Of course! Kit apologized in her turn. She reassured Mrs. Troy that she herself was now quite

all right, said good-by without lingering, and, along

with the others, started for the street.

At the door in the outside wall Connie suddenly

turned. I forgot my purse, she said. You go on. Ill catch up.

She ran lightly back across the patio on her flat-

heeled slippers and found the bag just where she had

left it, beside the chair on which she had sat when

Mrs. Troy served them coffee. About to retrace her

steps without disturbing anyone, she happened to

58

glance up at the part of the balcony off which the

artists bedroom opened. Hannah Devotion had just climbed the steps, but, unaware that anyone was

below, she stood leaning against the railing, her

head buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking

convulsively. It would have taken a far less astute

person than Connie Blair not to realize that she was

weeping.

Because she felt like an interloper, witness to an

emotion not intended for her eyes, Connie tiptoed

back to the grilled iron gate and quietly let herself

out.

Kit and Mr. Mole were some distance up the

street, but Connie could see that the Englishman was

talking to her sister very seriously, punctuating

whatever he was saying by pounding a fist against

the palm of his hand. She approached them

curiously, but he broke off as soon as she came

within earshot, and when they came to the Zcalo,

he foiled the twins prearranged plan by excusing himself abruptly and hurrying away.

Well, thats that, murmured Connie, a trifle disgruntled. Then she asked abruptly, What under the sun was Mr. Mole saying to you? For a Britisher,

he looked as though he were being terribly intense. Kit heaved a sigh and shook her head. He still

has us mixed up. He thinks I was at the silver shop

this morning. What happened there, anyway?

59

Nothing. Mr. Mole had an appointment with Victor King so I bowed out. Im going back this afternoon.

Well, anyway, Mr. Mole seems very upset about things in general. To use his exact words he said,

Look here, young lady, let me give you a bit of advice. Id avoid Victor Kings shop, if I were you. Theres something odd going on. I dont know just what, but I intend to find out. And I dont think its, anything for an American girl to be involved in.

Connie whistled softly. But why? Thats what I asked Mr. Mole, said Kit.

Why? And what was his reply? Connie wanted to

know.

He said, I dont trust the silversmiths King employs. I think theyre engaged in something more than jewelry making. And I dont like that bump on your forehead, either. I dont think youre the type to fall and hit your head against a coping. I think

perhaps you were followed from Victor Kings. Well, for Petes sake! said Connie in

astonishment. Of course I know and you know that hes completely confused.

Ill tell you who is confused. I am! Kit said rather sharply. And now, if you dont mind, Im going to buy a pair of low-heeled shoes.

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CHAPTER 6

Now Whos Confused?

When the girls arrived at the Hotel Victoria for

lunch they found Peter Dawson marching up and

down on the sunny terrace, looking aggrieved.

Where have you been? he asked them. Ive been hunting all over Taxco for you!

We were calling on an artist by the name of Mrs. Troy, Connie replied. Maybe you know her.

Hannah Devotion? Sure I know her. She rents a house from my stepfather.

Connie and Kit exchanged glances. Here was a

possible clue to Mr. Moles morning appearance at the Casa del Olvido.

Shes interesting, dont you think? Connie asked casually.

Odd might be a better word, Peter suggested with a grin. But Victor says shes a darned good

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designer. Personally, Im more interested in merchandising than in the creative end of the

business, so I wouldnt know. He changed the subject abruptly. I thought you might like to have a real Mexican lunch, and I know a little spot where

only the natives and a few of the permanent

residents go. Pausing, he looked hopeful. Connie glanced at her watch. I have a date with

your stepfather at two oclock. Will there be time? Sure! Peter said blithely. Come along. Ive got

the car. Ten minutes later Connie and Kit found

themselves winding down one of the tortuous steep

streets behind a truckload of miners and two small

donkeys, each carrying half a dozen rush-bottomed

chairs. The car crawled along at a snails pace. Since they had left the hotel, Peters foot had been on the brake constantly, but not once had he been able to

use the accelerator.

I think burro-back would have been faster, Connie teased.

Peter was willing to laugh at himself. I should know better than to try to use the car in Taxco, he admitted. But I never get a chance to drive at school, andwell, I just cant resist it, thats all.

A typical American remark, chided Kit, chuckling.

And why not? Peter shot back, perfectly willing

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to continue the repartee.

But Connie interrupted. Speaking of being American, she said, Ive been wondering about something. How do the native workmen feel about

people like your stepfather? Do they resent being

bossed by an outsider, or are they perfectly willing

to work for anybody who will pay them the going

wage rate? Peter glanced at Connie speculatively. Now

theres a curious question for a girl to ask. Im interested. As a matter of fact, Ill even

admit that I suspect the Indian and Mexican artisans

rather resent American big business stepping in. Am

I wrong, Peter? She leaned forward in the car seat so she could look him in the eye.

In a way, I guess youre right, he said slowly. He hesitated a moment, thoughtfully, then

continued, The temperament of these fellows is sort of hard to understand. It isnt that they resent progress and organization and all that sort of thing.

Its just that they think differently than we do. What do you mean by that? Connie asked. Well, let me tell you a storya true story, Peter

suggested. It hasnt anything to do with our shop, but its typical. Theres an Indian in Taxco who makes chairs, something like those up ahead only

better. One day Victor was passing his shop and

there was a particularly handsome one sitting in the

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doorway. It was neat and sturdy, besides being a

little bit out of the ordinary in design.

He stopped and looked it over and admired it. How much? he asked the Indian. Sixty pesos, the fellow said.

Victor, being a promoter, thought it over. He could see that there might be a good American

market for these chairs. If I could get you an order for several dozen chairs, how much would they be? he asked.

The Indian thought for quite a while. In quantity, seventy-five pesos, he finally said.

But that doesnt make sense, Kit objected. It didnt to Victor, either. Peter grinned. But it

did to the Indian. He figured it would be such a bore

to make chair after chair just exactly alike that they

should cost more in consequence. Connie laughed understandingly. Thats a very

good illustration, she told Peter in a complimentary tone. And you think the silversmiths may react the same way if theyre put on a production line?

Im not sure. Victor thinks he can handle them, but temperament is a curious thing.

Well, theres one thing certain, Connie said to herself. Peter Dawson is a thoroughly honest young man, even though his business acumen may be

questionable. She wondered if he realized that in making this statement he had cast decided doubt on

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the possibility that his stepfather might be able to

supply the American market with Mexican jewelry

in quantity. She also wondered what Victor Kings reaction would be to his stepsons lack of salesmanship.

Now she was even more anxious than before to

talk to Mr. King himself, but as they ordered lunch

she began to wish she could have found the

opportunity to question Mr. Mole first.

Could have! The past tense never appealed to

Connie. Even as the words repeated themselves in

her mind she decided this feat was still not

impossible, if she could discover where the Lloyds man was stopping. And there were two possible

ways of finding out, either from Peter or from the

garage to which they had towed his ill-fated rented

car.

There was no reason not to be direct. When

opportunity offered, Connie brought the

conversation around to Mr. Mole and said, I havent seen him around the Victoria. I wonder where hes staying? Do you know?

At the Casa Humboldt, Peter replied. Hes looking into an insurance situation for my

stepfather, and he wanted to be close to the shop. So far, so good, Connie decided. Now if she

could only convince Kit and Peter that they neednt hurry with lunch, and that she could find her way

65

back to the center of town alone This, too, proved to be remarkably easy, because

there was a certain Mexican dessert Kit asked about

and which Peter urged her to try. You take your lime, Connie told them. Ill go along and meet you kick at the hotel at four oclock.

Peter gave her directions to Victor Kings shop. Dont walk too fast in this heat, he warned her. You have plenty of time.

Smiling to herself, Connie broke into a dogtrot

the minute she was out of sight of the restaurant.

He little knows, she murmured as she scaled the hill.

The Casa Humboldt was easy to find. A passing

child pointed it out at once, and since two oclock was the beginning of the normal Taxco lunch

houror lunch hours as Peter aptly tagged themshe was fairly sure of finding Mr. Mole at the hotel.

Indeed, he was sitting in the sala, or lobby, studying

a road map.

So that he would not notice the lack of a bruise on

her temple, Connie combed her hair low on that side

and then approached him. He looked up in some

surprise and then arose.

Rather breathlessly, Connie explained her errand.

As you know, I have an appointment with Mr. King almost immediately, but I want to talk to you first.

To me?

66

Yes. Connie told Mr. Mole about her connection with Reid and Renshaw and her mission

in Taxco as it concerned the silver merchant. I just want to make sure of two things, she told him, that Mi. King is honest and that he can produce.

And you think I can help you? Mr. Mole feigned surprise.

On the first point Im sure you can help me, Connie said firmly, by telling me your business with Mr. King.

I am investigating an insurance matter, replied the Englishman testily, as though he considered this

American girl rather impertinent. No allusion was

made to his warning of the morning. He might never

have spoken the words!

I know that, Connie said. And I know that youre from Lloyds of London. But is it asking too much to beg you to be more specific? Im very anxious to turn in to my company a perfectly fair

report. She tried to look especially appealing and

demure, because she wanted to get her information

in a hurry. The clock was already passing the hour,

and although a few minutes one way or the other

probably wouldnt matter, she had a conscientious reluctance to be late.

Mr. Mole cocked his head on one side and

regarded her thoughtfully. Then he said, Sit down.

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Connie sat on the edge of a chair, her hands

clasped in her lap.

This will be in confidence, said Mr. Mole. Of course. The matter into which I am inquiring, he said,

is a robbery, rather a large robbery. Apparently Mr. King has been the victim of a clever thief, or group

of thieves, who have made off with a small fortune

in silver ingotsthose are the metal castings, you understand.

Connie didnt understand, but she nodded anyway. Ingots. She filed the word away in her mind

for future examination.

One hundred and eighty-nine thousand pesos are involved, said Mr. Mole, biting his lower lip unhappily.

What would that be in dollars? Connie asked. Roughly, fifteen thousand, replied the

insurance man.

Connies eyes widened. Golly, thats a lot of money!

Mr. Mole nodded. Enough to ruin many a man, he said gravely. Fortunately for him, Victor King is insured.

You mean Lloyds will pay that? If we have to. If we cannot catch the thief, or

thieves. It was the second time Mr. Mole had used the

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plural, and Connie was not unaware of it. What about the local police? she asked. Are they of no help?

Their investigation of the robbery has produced not a single clue. But they are not accustomed to

dealing with clever thieves or dangerous criminals.

You can tell that by the jail. Whats the matter with the jail? A child could break out of it. All I can say is that

up to now there must have been little or no crime in

Taxco. Connie frowned. Yet Mr. King has been robbed

of a good deal of money. Mr. Mole nodded. Personally, he said, dropping

his voice to a mere whisper, I dont trust the workmen he employs, even though the police insist

that they all are trustworthy. Theres not one that understands a word of Englishor at least they pretend they cant.

You think theyre dishonest? I think they hate King and all he stands for. I

think they want to put him out of business. Oh, now, Connie murmured. Certainly they

wouldnt be plotting to put themselves out of work. You never can tell, insisted Mr. Mole with a

shake of his head. You never can tell about foreigners.

Scarcely able to stifle a smile, because the mans

69

distrust of anything he couldnt understand was so patent, Connie thanked Mr. Mole for his explanation

and hurried on to Victor Kings silver shop. She found Mr. King talking with one of his

artisans, but he broke off when she came in and

greeted her expansively.

Im sorry to be a little late, Connie apologized. It doesnt matter. In Taxco time slides through

ones fingers. You must have noticed that nobody hurries here. Yet work gets done. Otherwise She broke off with a slight shrug.

You are thinking that otherwise I would not be able to consider accepting a big United States

contract. Mr. King smiled. And you are right. I have an unusually able group of artisans in my shop,

and because I am not stingy with a peso I can

acquire as many more as I need. This sounded reasonable to Connie, and when she

visited the factory with Mr. King as escort she could

sense no ill will in the attitudes of the men. This

scarcely bore out Mr. Moles theory that King was being cheated by his employees, yet she tried to

keep an open mind.

You are not working at full-production speed now, of course? she asked, gesturing toward the empty benches.

Not by a long shot! Mr. King assured her quickly. I can double the present rate, even triple it

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within a matter of days. Drawing her into the display room, he added, The small force operating at present is due to an unfortunate circumstance of

which you may have heard. Recently I sustained a

considerable loss. My night watchman was slugged

and my safe was robbed. Unfortunately, I had on

hand an unusually large number of ingots at the

lime. Connie expressed her sympathy. Id like to see

what an ingot looks like, she commented. Is it like a brick?

Its about the size of a brick, butwell, I guess youd say it was pyramid-shaped with the top sawed off. He glanced at a young man who was carrying a heavy parcel up the stairs. Here comes a small shipment now. Wait until I sign for it and Ill show you. He instructed the delivery man to put the parcel on a desk in his private office and invited

Connie to have a chair.

After he had affixed his signature to duplicate

forms he told her a little about the buying of silver in

bulk. Most of the information about kilograms

Connie didnt understand, but she did gather that all Mexican silver was smelted in Monterrey and

passed through the Bank of Mexico on its way to the

purchaser.

And where is your safe? she asked, glancing around.

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Mr. King smiled. Im afraid youll consider it rather primitive, he admitted. Its that wooden cupboard with the padlock, but since the recent

episode I have ordered a proper steel model. Such a

robbery is an incident I wouldnt care to repeat. Aside from the loss, there is the inconvenience and

all the red tape of settling the claim. I do hope you were fully covered, Connie

murmured, trying to so