“I was just wondering,” said Terry, slowly. “Because these two fellows just reached up and pushed the window open.”
“Impossible, Senor Mackson! You may see that there is a much thick bar across that window.”
“Yes, so I notice. But all of the boys will tell you that they simply reached up and pushed the window open, and that they didn’t have a thing in their hands when they did it!”
“That’s so,” exclaimed Ned, a sudden light breaking over him. “Senorita, where is Alaroze, your overseer? How is it that he has not appeared during all of the excitement? The rest of your men are outside; I can see them gathered in the courtyard.”
“I do not know,” answered the senorita, “I shall call him at once.” She stepped to the door and clapped her small hands sharply.
There was a slight pause and then a man entered the room quickly. He was small and chunky, with a brown face and shifty eyes. He was fully dressed in the nondescript outfit of a ranch foreman.
“Senor Alaroze, where have you been?” the senorita asked him in Spanish, which the boys understood slightly. They had studied the language in high school, all except Terry, and they could follow the conversation.
“A thousand pardons, senorita, but I was awakened by the noise and hastened to dress,” the Mexican said, softly.
“It took you much time, senor,” retorted the senorita, curtly. “Tell me, when you closed up did you lock this library window?”
“Surely, senorita. I take pains to always carry out faithfully the tasks intrusted to me,” he replied, his tone becoming haughty.