“At what?” Laura questioned.
“Oh, you were too late,” Nan answered while she adjusted her camera so that it would be ready for her to take pictures when she wanted to. “There was a sign on that car which said, ‘Toreo.’”
“What does that mean?” Grace questioned.
“Bullfight, darling, that’s where you are going now,” Laura answered. “See, there’s the sign that Nan saw again. It’s on the front of that bus that’s stopped across the street. This must be a holiday. Practically everyone seems to have dusted off his best sombrero and come out on the streets.”
“It’s a holiday everyday here.” Adair MacKenzie turned around to join in the conversation. “Saw a calendar of festivals posted in the hotel lobby. No end to it. No wonder the people never get anything done.”
“I saw that too,” Walker Jamieson remarked. “Saw something else posted on a bulletin board that was interesting. It was a warning to everyone to take good care of his visitor’s pass. Right beside it was the announcement of a reward being offered to anyone who could give information as to the whereabouts of one Antonio Mazaro, an American citizen and former aviator, who is suspected of being an accomplice in an international smuggling ring.”
“They must be the smugglers Mr. Nogales told us about at the border,” Nan remarked.
Walker Jamieson said nothing further. The truth, was, however, that he had just an hour before received an assignment from a big New York newspaper to cover certain aspects of this smuggling ring story, and he was already wondering whether or not it was going to be possible for him to go on to the Hacienda as he had planned.
“These Mexicans will never catch anyone, much less a band of American crooks.” Adair MacKenzie looked around again. “Need a couple of good G-men down here, if they’re going to find out anything at all.”
“Think so too,” Walker agreed, “they are sending some down, I understand.”