As she turned to join the girls Florence called, “Look right down this passage, Jo. There’s another cave-in.”
Flashing her light in that direction, Jo Ann exclaimed, “You’re right—that is a cave-in. There’ve been steps there, too. This must’ve been the passage leading up into the church. It looks as if the whole side of the building has fallen down.”
“I know where we are, then,” Florence put in. “We’re right under that section of the church that’s partly in ruins. That’s the reason no one’s been down here in years and years.”
Now that her curiosity was satisfied about the passage to the church, Jo Ann turned to Florence. “You still have the box and the paper you took out of that vault, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but they don’t look at all interesting or valuable.”
With one glance at the dull black box Jo Ann reached out and took the roll of papers from Florence.
“Oh dear,” she sighed a moment later, “they’re all in Spanish, of course. This is the queerest writing—all fancy flourishes and curly-cues. I can’t make anything out of it, can you, Florence?”
Florence looked down at the papers a moment, then shook her head. “All that I can make out of it is that it’s some kind of old record.”
“Let me have a look at the box, then. Maybe it’ll explain something.”
As Florence handed it to Jo Ann she remarked, “If you can find out anything from this old black box, you’re a good one.”