“We’ve been solving the mystery,” eagerly explained Florence.
“What mystery?”
“Why, the mystery of that strange little window in the back of the house.”
“But how did you get out of the house without unbolting the door? You know better than to go out at this hour of night.”
“Don’t scold, Dad,” begged Florence. “We haven’t been down on the street. We climbed through the little window and found a tunnel under the street.”
“A tunnel!” he repeated, bewildered. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“Why, there’s a long tunnel that starts under the back of our house and goes under the street, clear to the church—and I don’t know how much farther—there’s a regular network of passages, and——”
While Florence stopped to catch her breath, her father turned to Señor Rodriguez. “Do you know anything about a tunnel under the street?”
Señor Rodriguez shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face.
By that time Florence had started talking again, her words tumbling over each other in her hurry. “And we’ve found lots of valuable things—candelabra—old papers—and jewels! Real jewels! Diamonds—rubies. Open the box, Jo, and show them!”