The Clue in the Crossword Cipher

They walked back to the cart, but the lad was gone. When the driver arrived leading the ox, they told him about the boy and asked if he knew who he was.

  “Maybe he from caddie house,” the man said. “Name Tomás Rivero.”

  George was angry. “I think we should go to that caddie house immediately and find out if the man we saw put Tomás up to that mean trick.”

  The others agreed and set off to find out. When they reached the caddie house, the master confirmed that the boy worked there. “Tomás left early today. He lives in Bariloche, but I’m afraid we don’t have his address.”

  Nancy told the caddie master what had happened. “When Tomás comes again, will you please ask him about the man?” The caddie master agreed to do so, and the girls returned to the hotel.

  When Nancy entered her room, she noticed that the bottom drawer of her bureau was slightly open. Knowing that she had closed it tightly, the young sleuth immediately became suspicious.

  She fairly leaped across the room and yanked the drawer open. Nancy gasped in dismay!

  CHAPTER VI

  The Con Man

  “WHAT’S the matter?” George asked Nancy.

  “The plaque! It’s gone!”

  A look of utter dismay spread across Carla’s face. She said something in Spanish, then added in English, “What will we do? Now we can never solve the mystery! Oh, that monkey is what you say—a jinx.”

  The next moment she flung herself on a bed and began to weep. Bess threw her arms around the girl and tried to comfort her.

  “We’re all terribly sorry,” she said. “But I’d like to bet Nancy will find the plaque.”

  “I’m certainly going to try,” Nancy replied. “The first thing I shall do is go down to the desk and report the theft to the manager.”

  The clerk on duty took her into the manager’s office where a pleasant-looking man, Senor Diaz, was in charge at the moment. Quickly Nancy told her story.

  “I am very sorry to hear this,” the man said. “The plaque sounds most unusual. It seems like a strange thing for anyone to steal. What would be the motive for such a theft?”

  “I don’t know,” Nancy answered, “but the plaque has been in the Ponce family for hundreds of years and they will be greatly upset to learn it has been stolen.”

  “Miss Ponce is with you, is she not?” the man asked. “Does she know about this?”

  Nancy nodded. “She is upstairs crying over the loss.”

  Señor Diaz tapped his desk with a pencil. “One thing is sure. Somebody with a key got into the room. This would indicate a chamber-maid or a porter. However, I assure you, Miss Drew, that I can vouch for the absolute honesty of all our employees.”

  Nancy said she doubted that the plaque would be of interest to them, anyhow. More likely it had been stolen by an intruder with a skeleton key.

  “Then it will be very hard to trace such a person,” Senor Diaz said. He walked out to the lobby with Nancy. “I shall investigate the matter immediately. Can you give me any clues at all as to who the thief might have been?”

  The young sleuth told him that in her home town of River Heights a man had tried to steal the plaque. “He claimed to be an importer in New York City.” She also mentioned Luis Llosa, the craftsman’s assistant who had copied some of the markings on the plaque before he had been stopped.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy noticed a woman listening intently to the conversation. In a moment she approached the young detective and asked, “Is there a monkey on the plaque?”

  Surprised, Nancy said, “Yes.”

  “I’m Mrs. Smith,” the woman said. “I have just come from one of the gift shops in the hotel. On the wall is a plaque with a monkey on it.”

  Nancy doubted that it could be Carla’s property, but she thanked Mrs. Smith and hurried toward the shop, with Senor Diaz following her.

  As the two rushed in, Nancy stopped short. She could hardly believe her eyes. The plaque on the wall was indeed the valuable heirloom of the Ponce family!

  She told this to Senor Diaz, and then asked the shop owner, Señora Violetta, how she had obtained the plaque.

  “In a rather unusual way,” the woman replied. “Less than half an hour ago one of the hotel’s guests, Señor Manuel Sanchez, brought it in.”

  “But why did he bring it here?” Nancy asked, perplexed.

  “To sell it,” the shop owner answered. “Señor Sanchez said that he had brought the plaque to the hotel because he had had an order for this antique piece from a collector. The man was from the United States and was staying here. But when Señor Sanchez arrived, the buyer had already left.”

  Nancy was intrigued by this series of falsehoods and encouraged the shop owner to go on.

  The woman smiled and asked, “First, would you mind telling me, señorita, why you are so interested?”

  “Because,” Nancy replied, “this plaque belongs to a friend of mine and was stolen.”

  Señora Violetta gasped. “Oh dear, oh dear!” she exclaimed. “I have done something dreadful!”

  “Please tell the whole story,” Senor Diaz urged.

  A frightened look had come over the woman’s face, but she went on, “Señor Sanchez told me that he did not want to bother taking the plaque all the way home. He wondered if I would be interested in buying it.”

  “And you did?” Nancy asked.

  The shop owner shook her head. “At the time Senor Sanchez was here a customer walked in. She is an avid antique collector and recognized the plaque as a valuable curio.

  “Hearing that he wanted to sell the plaque, she asked him how much he wanted for it. When he said a hundred and fifty dollars, she bought it and gave him cash. In turn she handed me ten dollars as my commission.”

  Señor Diaz asked why the customer had not taken the plaque with her.

  “She did not want to bother carrying the plaque up to her room just then,” Senora Violetta replied, “and asked me to keep it overnight.”

  Nancy asked what Manuel Sanchez looked like. The woman described the man as having red hair and small features, and wearing a black-and-white checked sports jacket.

  At once a thought came to Nancy. The man she had seen talking to the caddie had worn a black-and-white checked coat! His hat had been pulled down so far, she had not noticed the color of his hair. It was quite possible he had unhitched the ox, and bribed the boy to slap the beast with a stick if Nancy or one of the other girls should get on its back.

  “A runaway or an accident would keep us from our rooms for some time,” Nancy thought. “This would give Sanchez a chance to go to my bedroom. He let himself in with a skeleton key, hunted for the plaque, and took it.”

  Nancy figured that he probably had quickly made detailed drawings or even taken photographs of the plaque. Then, worried about an alarm over the theft, he felt it best to get rid of the stolen property.

  “Pretty clever of him to have thought of the gift shop,” Nancy said to herself. “And what a surprise he’s in for when the management questions him.”

  She said to Señor Diaz, “What is the number of Señor Sanchez’s room? You’re going to have him arrested at once, aren’t you?”

  The man nodded vigorously. As he went to the desk to look in the guest register, Señora Violetta handed Nancy the plaque.

  “I am sure your friend will be relieved to see this. And I certainly hope the police can get back my customer’s hundred and fifty dollars.”

  “I hope so too,” said Nancy, and hurried off.

  When she reached the desk, Señor Diaz had just finished checking the guest list. He turned to Nancy and said in a worried voice, “No Ma nuel Sanchez has been registered here.”

  Nancy panicked. The thief had vanished and no doubt had all the necessary information to solve the mystery of the crossword cipher before she could do so!

  The young sleuth climbed the stairway and was calm again by the time she opened the door to her bedroom. “Good news!” she cried out happily, and presented the plaqu
e to the tear-stained Carla.

  “Oh, Nancy, where did you find it?”

  Nancy quickly related the story and told of her worry about Manuel Sanchez having all the information he wanted. “He must be an accomplice of Luis Llosa and Harry Wallace.”

  George said with determination, “Let’s see to it that we beat that gang at their own game!”

  Just before dinnertime two police officers arrived to question Carla and the other girls, as well as the shop owner. They had also notified the woman who had purchased the plaque from Sanchez, and reported that she was very angry about the whole affair. She was demanding that the hotel give her back the hundred and fifty dollars she had spent.

  “Of course you are not concerned in that part of the case,” one of the officers told the girls. “We will let you know if we apprehend Sanchez. Can you tell us anything that might help solve this mystery?”

  Nancy revealed her suspicions that there might be a liaison between Sanchez and Luis Llosa. She also mentioned that the two possibly had some connection with Harry Wallace of New York because of their interest in the plaque. The officers thanked her and left. No word came from the police that night or early the next morning, and Carla was discouraged.

  Trying to be cheerful, Bess said, “That horrible Sanchez is probably thousands of miles from here by now. And good riddance. Then he won’t bother us again.” All the girls began to feel a sense of relief.

  Nancy decided to take the plaque to the arrayánes forest and show the carvings to the guard there. She might get a clue from him!

  At ten o’clock the four friends went aboard the launch. It had a cabin to accommodate about twenty people and an open aft deck. The pilot’s compartment, which opened directly from the cabin, was reached by a short ladder. The day was cloudy and cool, with beautiful clouds scudding through the sky.

  The crowd on board was jolly and the girls soon became acquainted with a delightful couple from England. The husband was a camera bug like Bess, and the two snapped picture after picture of the many snow-capped mountains on either side of the lake.

  After the launch had been cruising for about half an hour, it began to slow down. Finally the engines stopped. After a long wait the pilot left his seat and came to call back into the cabin. “Sin gasolina,” he announced.

  “No gas!” several of the Americans exclaimed, and Carla added, “What will we do?”

  A broad grin came over the pilot’s face. He rattled off something in Spanish. Carla turned to the girls and translated.

  “He said, ‘Who would like to swim to shore for help?’ ”

  CHAPTER VII

  Another Challenge

  AT the pilot’s facetious request, many of the passengers in the cabin of the launch began to laugh. Others were angry that they were stranded in the middle of Lake Nahuel Huapi.

  “There is no excuse for this,” said one woman.

  “We may have a long, long wait before help comes!” another burst out.

  Although Nancy said nothing, inside she was fuming with impatience and thinking, “This is the only boat going to the arrayánes forest today. If it doesn’t run, we’ll never be able to make the trip, because we have to fly back to Lima tomorrow.”

  George was mumbling, “We may miss an important clue to solving the mystery of the crossword cipher.”

  The Englishman, with whom the girls had made friends, suddenly stood up. He walked forward and climbed the ladder into the pilot’s compartment. His wife, Mrs. Horace, told the girls that he was an engineer. She said he thought something other than lack of fuel might be the trouble with the launch.

  “Oh, I hope he’s right,” said Bess.

  “And I hope he can fix it,” George added.

  Carla sighed. “From the very beginning of this case we have had nothing but setbacks,” she said dolefully.

  Nancy patted her friend’s hand. “We’ll get out of this.”

  Presently the engineer called to Carla, asking her to come to the pilot’s cabin. “This man speaks very little English,” he said. “Would you mind translating for me?”

  Carla said she would be glad to do so and rapidly told the pilot that the Englishman was an engineer and would like to make an inspection of the engines. The pilot shrugged and told him to go ahead. The engine room was under the pilot’s compartment. A door led below.

  It began to rain and people who had been on the aft deck crowded into the cabin. They asked what was causing the delay.

  “I wish we knew,” Mrs. Horace replied.

  Nancy and her friends watched as Mr. Horace examined wires and pipes. Presently he requested Carla to translate for him again.

  “Tell the pilot that I’m sure the launch is not out of fuel. I think the fuel line is clogged. Can he clean it out himself?”

  When the skipper heard this, a broad grin crossed his face and he said rapidly, “Yes, I can clean it.”

  At once he went to work. Shortly the passengers were relieved to hear the engines sputter, then start up with a steady throb.

  “Olé!” cried the Spanish passengers.

  “Yeah!” the English-speaking ones shouted.

  The first stop on the trip was Victoria Island. Here the tourists climbed a hill to a delightful hotel, where they had a tasty lunch which included huge slices of homemade bread.

  As Bess reached for her third piece, George grabbed her cousin’s arm. “No you don’t!” she said.

  Meekly Bess put the slice of bread back into the basket and finished her salad. Soon after lunch, the travelers assembled at the dock and once more started off. The rain had slackened to a drizzle and by the time they reached the peninsula the sun was shining.

  “Doesn’t the forest look enchanting?” Bess said, gazing toward the pinkish-yellow growth of trees ahead.

  The girls hurried from the dock, but before entering the forest, stopped to examine a large round plaque nailed to a tree.

  “Oh, could this be a clue?” Carla asked excitedly.

  The circular piece of arrayánes wood was a little bigger than the Ponces’ plaque. There was an inscription on it which Carla translated:

  “‘Trees are man’s good friends. Do not wound them.’”

  “How poetic!” Bess murmured.

  As the girls skirted the beach, which was covered by loose rocks and stones of various sizes, they looked intently into the most amazing woods they had ever seen.

  “It’s like a fairyland!” said Nancy.

  The enormously high trees grew straight up, but not as single units. Several trunks rose from a common base and each one in turn had more upward branching limbs.

  The trees had no bark. George ran her hand over the wood. “Umm, smooth as satin.”

  “It’s the color of evergreen wood,” Nancy said, “but these trees don’t have needles.” She gazed at the thick, small-leafed foliage which grew high overhead.

  “It’s so peaceful in here!” Bess murmured as she stepped over a tree root which had grown aboveground. It trailed for some distance, then disappeared into the ground near another tree. “How strange!”

  One of the tourists near her, who had overheard the conversation, said, “I understand that these roots run a long way and start forming a new tree. Probably there’s a network of roots under this forest.”

  Nancy gazed all around. “Actually,” she said, “these so-called trees are more like gigantic bushes. Maybe they once were bushes for diplodocuses to feed on.”

  “Diplo-who?” Bess asked.

  “Plant-eating dinosaurs,” Nancy explained with a smile.

  George grinned. “Can’t you just see one of them rubbing himself on this nice smooth bark and reaching up to eat the leaves? But tell me, did they have those monsters in South America as well as North America?”

  Nancy laughed. “You can’t prove anything by me,” she said.

  Presently the girls passed a small attractive log cabin where they assumed the guard for this government preserve lived. Nancy suggested that on the wa
y back they stop and talk to him.

  Some twenty minutes later they rapped on the cabin door. It was opened by a pleasant middle-aged man. When Nancy told him she would like to ask a few questions about the forest, he invited the girls inside. They introduced themselves and the guard said, “My name is Romero. What can I tell you?”

  Nancy took Carla’s plaque from its wrapping and showed it to him.

  He examined the curio with interest. “This is very old. Too bad the markings aren’t plainer. Have you any idea what they mean?”

  “No, and that’s why I brought it along to show you. We understand it is made of arrayánes wood and is about three hundred years old. Have you any records here to show who might have been in this vicinity at that time?”

  Romero shook his head. “I imagine it was pretty wild, but whether or not anybody ever lived here I have never heard.”

  Carla said she had an ancient ancestor by the name of Aguilar who presumably had carved the plaque. “No one has ever figured out its significance, but now we girls are trying to do so.”

  The guard showed interest and asked if she could tell him any more about her ancestor.

  “He was supposed to have been an excellent artist and an adventurer,” Carla replied. “I suppose he traveled around a great deal.”

  Romero said that he knew of one person who might possibly help the girls. “But he does not live around here. He is an old man—a full-blood Inca Indian who lives in Cuzco, Peru. He knows more stories and legends about the history of all of South America than anybody I have ever heard of.”

  Nancy realized that Cuzco was many miles from Lima. Could this Indian offer enough help to make a trip there worth while?

  As if in answer to her unspoken question, Romero went on, “Even if Maponhni cannot help you on your mystery, you girls certainly should visit Cuzco while you are in South America. Some of the original walls of the ruined city are still standing and nearby there are several other great ruins—a fortress, in particular.”

  “I’d love to see it and also meet Maponhni,” said Nancy. “I have a hunch he can help us.”