“What is that?” asked Jim.
“That the treasure may have been found and removed since that book was written. The priest who wrote the book was going to raise a party to go back and recover the treasure, but whether he did or not is not known. He may have done so, in which case our efforts and plans are absolutely useless.”
“Of course,” nodded Don. He turned to the senorita. “Senorita Mercedes, you do not know how that book ever came to be in your house, do you?”
“No,” confessed the girl. “As far as I have knowledge, senor, it has quite always been here. But I can say this, which will perhaps aid you: before my family came here to dwell we lived in Mexico. You see what I mean?”
“I do,” nodded Ned. “You mean that this priest may at one time have lodged at your house and have left his book there?”
“He may have even died there, Senor Ned.”
“That is very true. I lean to the belief that the treasure was never recovered. Well, there are two parties after it now, so we will have to be on our guard.”
Terry, who had walked to the window, spoke up. He had been examining the double windows, which opened like doors, with hinges on each side.
“Do you keep your windows locked at night, senorita?” he asked.
“Of a certainty, senor,” she replied.