The boy’s large black eyes lit in swift recognition, and he ran over to her side.
Florence quickly explained to him that she wanted him to watch the car while she went to the market.
With a nod of assent the boy answered, smiling, “Sí. I watch good for you. You are Carlitos’s friend.”
“He’ll watch it right; we won’t have to worry,” Florence said confidently as she and Peggy walked on down to the market.
Soon they were busily buying fruit and vegetables.
In the meantime Jo Ann had elbowed her way through the crowded aisles of the market to the pottery booth at the back. On reaching the booth she stared around, anxious-eyed, hunting for the mystery man. Oh, where was he? There wasn’t a sign of him anywhere. He’d said he was always around here at this time of day. What if he should’ve missed coming this day?
She walked slowly back of the booth and on around to the front again, her eyes scanning every man in sight. “He’s not here,” she told herself finally, “and I don’t know where else to go to look for him. Oh dear! The smugglers’ll get away again.”
Just as she had reached this discouraging conclusion a stalwart, olive-skinned man with a dark mustache and black hat stepped up to her side and said in a low tone, “Don’t show your surprise—I’m the man you’re looking for.”
The mystery man! Jo Ann barely suppressed a gasp of amazement. Disguised as a Mexican. The same aquiline nose and gray eyes, but how startlingly different he looked.
In almost an inaudible voice she told him as quickly as she could about the smugglers being on the way to the city.