The Clue in the Crossword Cipher by Carolyn Keene
The guard said he knew the old Indian would be glad to see them. With a twinkle in his eyes, Romero added, “Maponhni will probably say to you, ‘Munanki! Imaynan caskianqui?”’
“That is not Spanish,” Carla said. “What does it mean?”
Romero laughed. “It is the old Inca language, Quechua. It means, ‘Hello! How are you?”’
The girls repeated the phrase several times, then Nancy asked how they should reply.
“You will say, ‘Hucclla, yusul paiki.’”
The visitors groaned. “I’ll never be able to learn that,” Bess declared. “What does it mean?”
“It means, ‘Good, thank you,”’ and Cutimunaikicama means ‘Good-by.“’
While Nancy and Carla were trying to memorize the three phrases, George walked around the cabin. On one wall she noticed a bunch of knotted strings of various colors tied together and suspended from several nails. She asked what it was.
“That is called a quipu,” Romero said. “It was the way the old Incas kept records. They did not have a written language or a way of figuring. I will show you how this works.”
He explained that the different colored cords stood for various things. “For instance, a red string could indicate the king and the knots on that particular string might indicate how many wives and children he had. The old Inca rulers and their nobles were polygamists.”
“But the common people weren’t?”
“No. Each laborer, called a puric, was allowed only one wife.”
George reached up and counted the knots, some of which were single, others doubled, or in groups. “It would be beyond me,” she said, “to figure this out. I guess that old king had a mighty big family.”
The guard told the girls that scholars were still working on the puzzle of the quipu. If they could learn the meaning of the knots, they might figure out some of the history of the Incas which was not yet known.
At that moment the girls heard a boat horn and knew they were being summoned to the launch. They thanked the guard for the interesting visit and said they must hurry off.
As they were leaving, Romero said, “While you are in Cuzco, be sure to go on to Machu Picchu. That is even more of a mystery than Cuzco. Nobody knows what it looked like when it was a city. That is another puzzle for you to solve, Miss Drew.”
Nancy smiled. “Another challenge!” she said gaily.
Bess groaned. “Nancy, you have enough challenges already.”
The girls said good-by to the guard and hurried off through the forest. The launch’s horn sounded again.
As they approached the beach, George suddenly pointed ahead and shouted, “Look out, everybody!”
Hurtling toward them was a large stone! As they ducked, the rock whizzed overhead and hit a tree with a resounding thud.
The next moment it ricocheted and struck Nancy a stinging blow on the back. Stunned, she teetered for a moment, then toppled over!
CHAPTER VIII
Spanish Disguise
FORTUNATELY, Nancy was not unconscious. She admitted to feeling woozy, but declared she would be all right in a little while. Carla said she would run ahead and have the pilot wait.
“Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Nancy called. She managed a wan smile. “We wouldn’t want to be left here.”
George, having made sure that Nancy was not badly hurt, had dashed down a slight slope to the beach. Hoping to spot the person who had thrown the rock, she looked up and down. No one was in sight.
“Maybe he’s hiding,” George said to herself. “I’ll hide too, and if he thinks we’ve all gone, he may come out.” She grinned. “I’ll use a little judo on him!”
George slipped behind a big arrayánes tree at the edge of the beach and waited. No one appeared, but presently she heard a motor being revved up. She stepped from hiding to see who was in the approaching boat.
Two men were pulling out of a small cove in a motorboat. Their backs were turned to George, but she instantly guessed that one of them was Manuel Sanchez. He had red hair and wore a black-and-white checked sports jacket.
“I’ll bet I did pick up a clue after all,” George thought as she climbed up the slope to rejoin her friends. Carla had returned and she and Bess were just helping Nancy to her feet.
“Did you find out anything?” Carla asked George.
“I think so.”
When she told about the man with the red hair and black-and-white sports jacket, the others agreed that he probably was Sanchez.
Bess expressed her worries. “Nancy, that man is determined to injure you. Oh, why don’t the police catch him?”
“I’m sure they will,” Nancy said quietly.
The girls walked slowly to the launch, where the pilot and Mr. and Mrs. Horace expressed concern over Nancy’s accident.
“I’m glad it was no worse,” the woman added.
The girls said nothing about whom they suspected of having thrown the rock. But they would certainly tell the police.
The pilot made a stop at Victoria Island again, where, he said, his passengers could spend an hour or two. The girls immediately went up to the hotel and engaged a room. They had tea served, and Carla got in touch with the police. As soon as Nancy had finished her tea, the others insisted that she crawl into the bed.
“And go to sleep,” Bess ordered.
Nancy was only too glad to do this and within seconds was sound asleep. The others tiptoed out and waited on the first floor until ten minutes before sailing time. Then they awakened her.
“That was just what I needed,” Nancy declared. “I’ve completely recovered.”
When they returned to the Hotel Llao-Llao, Nancy sought out Señor Diaz and asked if there had been any report on Manuel Sanchez or the caddie responsible for the runaway incident.
“I have heard nothing,” he replied. “I am sorry.”
As it neared dinnertime, Nancy said to the other girls, “I must confess I don’t feel like going to the dining room. If you’ll all excuse me, I’ll have supper in my room and get to bed early.”
George grinned. “That’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard you say in a long time. You do just that.”
“Carla can dress in George’s and my room,” Bess said.
Carla gathered up some clothes and they said good night to Nancy. The three girls dressed and went downstairs to dinner. On the way to their assigned table, they passed a long one filled with men. Mr. Ponce was among them and as an officer of the company was seated at the head.
“Are you all having a good time?” he asked the girls. “And where’s Nancy?”
The trio hesitated to tell him what had happened. Finally George spoke up. “Nancy doesn’t give up easily, but she confessed to being very tired.”
Carla added, “She is going to have dinner in her room and go to bed early.”
“That is probably a good idea. Well, have fun on the rest of your stay here and I shall see you tomorrow for our trip back.”
The girls went on to their table. Here they learned from the waiter that the first course would be smorgasbord.
When Carla saw all the food on display, she exclaimed over the quantity. “If I take even one little tidbit of each of these delicious things, I will never eat any more dinner!”
The girls began to help themselves. Carla and George did not fill their plates, but Bess took three kinds of fish, chicken salad, vegetable salad, and half a melon.
The others teased her, but she ignored them. When Bess was served a large dish of cream soup, roast beef, potatoes and vegetable, as well as dessert—a rich cake topped with ice cream—she began to falter.
“Oh, I know I’m going to burst!” she said, after swallowing the last mouthful of dessert.
George looked at her cousin disapprovingly. “If you have a tummyache tonight, enjoy it by yourself!” Bess was silent.
After dinner the girls wandered into the lounge and sat down to talk.
Carla was quiet for a while, then she said, ??
Carla outlined a plan she had in mind. In one of the gift shops she would buy a large Spanish shawl and a fan.
“I have a dress with me that is like a Spanish dancer’s,” she whispered. “I could fix myself up to look like an entertainer and in that costume I could try to locate Manuel Sanchez.”
“How?” Bess and George asked.
“In the basement of this hotel,” Carla explained, “there is a very large casino where various games are played. It is not run by the hotel and is open to anyone who wants to come and play.”
“Yes?” Bess prompted as Carla paused.
“It is possible that Manuel Sanchez will come there. If I can play my part right, so he does not recognize me, I might be able to talk with him and learn something worth while.”
“And turn him over to the police, I hope,” George declared.
“Of course.”
Bess remarked that the scheme sounded very risky, but George was inclined to think that it might work. “We’d better keep an eye on you, though. Bess can take the first watch and I’ll take the second.”
Carla agreed to this protection and went off to purchase a shawl and a fan. The other two girls went up to their room.
When Carla arrived with her purchases, Bess said, “I hope Nancy’s asleep so you can tiptoe in and bring your bag across the hall to our room without her hearing you.”
Carla was able to accomplish this quietly.
“I think it would be best if I change my clothes in the first-floor powder room,” Carla told Bess and George. “Then no one will recognize me as the same girl who went in. I will put this Spanish dress in a shopping bag with these other things. Bess, when you come down to follow me, do not speak. Pretend you never saw me before.”
“All right. How much time do you want?”
Carla said ten minutes would do. Bess waited exactly ten minutes, then walked down the stairs. She stopped to look in various shopwindows along the corridor.
Presently Carla emerged from the powder room and Bess could not help gasping in amazement. “What a transformation!” she thought.
The Peruvian girl looked utterly bewitching. Her hair was piled high on her head and a tall Spanish comb at the back completed the coiffure. Over it all was a beautiful black lace shawl which hung in a point down the back, almost to the bottom of Carla’s gay Spanish dress. The other two ends of the shawl were shorter and lay gracefully on her shoulders.
Carla’s eyebrows had been heavily darkened. She had attached long, curling black lashes which gave her a flirtatious look. The “Spanish dancer” seemed about ten years older and very sophisticated.
“Oh, oh!” Bess thought. “I’d really better keep an eye on Carla or this Spanish beauty will be kidnapped by some dashing cavalier!”
Carla walked up the hall, a black beaded purse held nonchalantly in one hand. Reaching the door which led to the casino, she opened it and started down the stairway. Bess had turned and followed at what she considered an unobtrusive distance.
At the foot of the stairs, the girls showed free admission passes which Carla had obtained earlier from the desk, after revealing her plan to Señor Diaz.
The brightly lighted casino was filled with men and women, most of them at the gaming tables, others just milling around. Everyone stopped to look at Carla and she received many invitations to come and play the games.
To each one she replied, “Thank you, no. I am looking for Señor Manuel Sanchez. Have you seen him?”
Person after person said No. But finally a dark-haired man, who extended the same invitation and received the same reply, said:
“Olé! Sanchez did not tell me he had a date with such a gorgeous girl.”
Bess was surprised that the man had replied in English. He went on, “My friend Sanchez could not come tonight—he hurt his arm this afternoon.”
Bess’s heart began to pound. Manuel Sanchez had probably injured himself when he had thrown the rock at Nancy!
The dark-haired stranger said to Carla, “If you wish, I will take you to Sanchez and his sister.”
Bess was suspicious of the man. On the other hand, he might not be involved in Sanchez’s crooked schemes. In any case, she hoped Carla would not accept. To her dismay, the Peruvian girl said she would be happy to go along.
“Where is Señor Sanchez?” Carla asked.
“You will soon find out,” the dark-haired man replied. “Come with me.”
He led Carla out a side door of the casino and headed through the hotel grounds for the shore. Bess was extremely worried. She followed along the path as closely as she dared, wishing George were with her.
The stranger led the way directly to the dock, where a motorboat rocked gently on the water. He took hold of Carla’s arm to help her into it, but at this point she refused to go. He held on.
“Get in that boat!” the dark-haired man said firmly. “You are no friend of Sanchez, but I am going to find out who you are!”
As Carla struggled to free herself, Bess screamed loudly and ran forward.
CHAPTER IX
Wooden Clue
As Bess continued to scream loudly, the man who was endeavoring to abduct Carla let go of her. He jumped into the waiting motorboat.
Bess noticed for the first time that there was a pilot, but it was too dark for her to see his features. The craft roared off.
“Oh, Carla!” she cried out, running forward to her friend. “Did he hurt you?”
“He pinched my arm pretty hard, but other than that I am all right,” Carla answered.
Her Spanish costume was askew and her hair disheveled. As the two girls turned to walk back to the hotel, they were amazed to see people running from various directions.
“Who screamed? Who got hurt?” a man asked.
Bess tried to explain in English and Carla in Spanish.
“Where did those men go? I will get them!” said a young man.
Bess pointed down the lake. The motorboat was already out of sight. “It’s hopeless,” she said.
By this time one of the hotel porters had pushed his way through the group and asked who the men were.
“We don’t know,” Bess replied. Then, on a hunch, she added, “Did you see a man around the hotel who had red hair and wore a black-and-white checked sports jacket?”
“Yes, I did. It was yesterday. He was on the second floor. I do not know him.” Suddenly the porter recognized Bess. “The man you speak of stood by the door across the hall from you.”
“What was he doing?” Carla asked.
“Nothing when I passed by.”
After a few more questions and answers, the girls learned that the stranger had been there about the time the plaque must have been stolen. The porter also said that later the same red-haired person had been met on the grounds of the hotel by a man who lived in Bariloche.
“Do you know this man’s name?” Bess asked excitedly.
“It is Frederic Wagner. He owns a motorboat and he might have taken the red-haired man.”
Bess and Carla looked questioningly at each other. Both had the same thought. Was the pilot of the kidnapper’s motorboat this same Frederic Wagner? And was he perhaps the one who had taken Sanchez away from the arrayánes forest?
The crowd dispersed, assured of the girls’ well-being. Bess and Carla returned to the hotel. They found Nancy awake and George talking to her. As Carla took off her Spanish costume, Bess told the story of what had happened.
Nancy sat straight up in bed. She reached for the telephone directory on the bedside table and began to riffle the pages. Presently she said, “Here it is. Frederic Wagner in Bariloche.”
George asked what she planned to do with the information. “Call Señor Diaz and suggest he get in touch with the police immediately. This is too good a lead not to follow up.”
Nancy spoke to
“Miss Drew, you are a fast-working detective,” he praised her.
Nancy laughed. “I have some excellent assistants. And this time all the credit goes to two of them, Misses Bess Marvin and Carla Ponce.”
“Well, congratulate them for me,” Señor Diaz said. “And now I’ll telephone the police.”
The girls hoped that they would get some word later that evening, but none came.
Nancy sighed. “I have a strong hunch that Sanchez is hiding out with Wagner, but after what happened, they probably didn’t go back to his home. The police will have to wait until they show up there.”
At seven the next morning Nancy’s telephone rang and she jumped to answer it. The Bariloche police were calling.
“Is this Miss Drew?”
“Yes.”
“We have two men in custody. One is Frederic Wagner. The other refuses to give his name, but we think it is Manuel Sanchez.”
The speaker requested that the girls come to Bariloche headquarters as soon as possible and bring the owner of the shop where the plaque transaction took place.
“I’ll inquire where she lives and we’ll all come together,” Nancy promised.
The clerk at the desk said that the shop was not open on Sunday, but he offered to call the woman at home and let Nancy talk with her. The gift-shop owner was delighted to hear that the police had a suspect in custody and readily agreed to go with the girls.
“I have a car. Suppose I pick you up at eight-thirty.”
“Thank you very much,” said Nancy. “We’ll be ready.”
The four girls dressed quickly and went downstairs to have breakfast. By eight-thirty they were at the driveway entrance to the hotel. Señora Violetta drove up and the girls hopped in. She was aghast upon hearing what had happened to Carla the night before.
“You were very brave to undertake such detective work,” she said.
“I must admit I was very scared,” Carla replied.
When the group reached police headquarters, the two prisoners were brought in to Chief Castro’s office.