WHEN VICKI ARRIVED BACK IN TAMPA THE NEXT day, she went directly to John Quayle’s office to see if he had any news of Amos Tytell. The office was closed. She found a taxi and drove to the Curtins’.

Nina and Louise were in a flurry of packing for their Havana trip, trying to decide which dresses they would need for the various things they planned to do.

They both burst out in a torrent of excited babble when Vicki entered the room.

“Look, Vic. Which evening dress do you think looks better? The green or the white?”

“Just look at this lovely new bathing suit I bought at the shop today!”

“You’d better start your own packing, Vic. Daddy plans on leaving bright and early in the morning.”

137 Vicki had to smile at their enthusiasm, but her pleasure in the projected trip to Cuba was dampened by her worry of what had happened to elderly Mr. Tytell.

“Wait until I change,” she said. “Then I’ll help you pack and you can help me.”

In her room, Vicki threw her bag on the bed and took the telephone book from the table. It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder whether Mr. Quayle lived in Tampa. If he didn’t, she’d have to ask Mr. Curtin where she could find him. He’d certainly know. But she didn’t want to worry him with her own involvement in the case unless she had to.

She was in luck. John Quayle’s name was in the book. She dialed his number and waited. In a moment his familiar voice answered the phone.

“Mr. Quayle? ... This is Vicki Barr. I hope you don’t mind my calling you at home like this on a Sunday afternoon, but I was worried about Mr. Tytell. Did you find out anything about him?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Barr,” the voice on the other end of the phone said. “As soon as I got your note yesterday, I put one of my men on the job of tracking him down. But so far, no luck. We found that he had been living in a cheap boardinghouse in the Quarter, but his landlady apparently hasn’t seen him since yesterday.”

“Oh, dear!” Vicki said.

138 “Don’t worry, Miss Barr. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”

“I won’t be home for a few days, Mr. Quayle. The Curtins are taking me to Havana. But if I can be of any help by staying ...”

“Now see here, young lady. You just go on to Havana and enjoy yourself. The FBI will find him, don’t you worry.”

Vicki thanked him and started to hang up, then she thought of something else.

“Did you find out anything about Mr. Duke and Mr. Eaton-Smith?”

“It appears that both of them are out of town ...”

“Gone?” Vicki almost shouted the word. “Maybe they forced Mr. Tytell to go with them! Maybe they ...”

Mr. Quayle’s good-natured laugh came over the wire. “Better not jump to conclusions, Miss Barr. Mr. Duke told some friends that he was going out of town on business. He didn’t say where. And Mr. Eaton-Smith’s office said that he had flown to Nassau. We’re making a check, of course, on the basis of the reports you made to me. But you have to remember that both men are respected businessmen here in Tampa and that the nature of their businesses compels them to travel a good deal. We can’t barge in with charges we have no way of proving. But again, don’t worry. If they’ve done anything unlawful,139 we’ll find out. Now you run along to Havana and have a good time.”

Vicki thanked him and hung up.

Early the next morning Mr. Curtin and the girls boarded a Federal Airlines plane for Havana. It was fun, she thought, as she leaned back in the reclining seat, to travel as a passenger. Both the stewardesses on the flight were old friends with whom she had flown many times. They made a point of waiting on her with mock pomp and ceremony, and referred to her, sometimes two and three times in one sentence, as “Madame.”

“Is Madame comfortable?” “Would Madame care for one or two lumps of sugar in Madame’s coffee?” “Is Madame sure she won’t get airsick?” “Has Madame ever flown before?”

Nina and Louise giggled at the joke and played up to it. Everyone was having fun. This, Vicki thought, is the way a vacation should be! All the fears and uncertainties that had crowded her mind for the past week vanished like magic.

The plane landed briefly at Miami, and then took off again for the short hop over the Keys and across the blue Straits of Florida to Havana.

They checked into a luxurious hotel, surrounded by vast green lawns and towering palm trees. Then quickly they unpacked their clothes and set out to see the sights.

140 For the next two days, Mr. Curtin escorted the three girls on a whirlwind round of fun and good times. He knew the old city thoroughly, but for Vicki and the Curtin girls it was a round of wonderful discoveries.

They went to the race track, the beaches, the historic old forts and the fascinating museums during the mornings and afternoons, and in the evenings to the theater and afterward to a night club where the orchestra played Spanish music and the dancers whirled and stamped their feet in all manner of Latin fandangos.

On the third morning—or maybe it was the fourth, Vicki had lost track of time in the wonderful world of Havana—Mr. Curtin said at breakfast:

“Today we’re going to see something that you’ve never seen before, a real Spanish-American market place down in the Old City.”

“What’s so special about it?” Nina asked.

“Some people call it the Thieves’ Market,” Mr. Curtin explained. “In the old days the pirates and freebooters went there to sell the loot they had taken from captured ships. And even today, it’s a place where stolen goods are sold.”

“Oh-h!” Nina said. “A Thieves’ Market! I can’t wait to buy something!”

“Not so fast, Missy!” Mr. Curtin laughed. “I said we were going to look, not to buy. It’s still a crime to receive stolen goods.”

“But if it’s all right for the thieves to sell141 things,” Nina persisted, “it should be all right for me to buy them.”

“Not on your life! The authorities down here occasionally shut one eye to certain practices that help make a tourist attraction. But I don’t!”

“Then I’ll do it when you’re not looking,” Nina teased.

“And you’re not too big to be spanked if I catch you.”

The girls giggled at this exchange, and then Mr. Curtin went on:

“Seriously though, this market is a strange combination of fine legitimate shops and black-market operators. What say we go out to Veradero Beach this morning for a swim, and then take in the market this afternoon?”

The Thieves’ Market was a cobblestoned square, with an ancient stone fountain in the middle and shops and outdoor cafés on all four sides. A few men, most of them dressed in nondescript clothes, lounged in the doorways. Two or three small parties of American tourists sat at the café tables.

“Let’s sit down and order limeades,” Mr. Curtin suggested, “and see what happens.”

They didn’t have to wait long. A tall individual, dressed in a soiled seersucker suit and a Panama hat that had seen better days, sauntered up to their table. From his coat pocket he extracted a bottle of perfume that Vicki recognized as a famous French brand.

142 “For the young ladies,” the man said in broken English. “Five dollars.”

Vicki knew the perfume cost three times that in New York or Tampa.

Mr. Curtin pretended to think it over. Then he handed the bottle back to the man and shook his head. The peddler returned the bottle to his coat pocket and walked away as casually as he had approached.

In a few moments a second man strolled up to their table, an old suitcase in his hand. Without a word, he put the case on the tabletop and opened it. Inside was some of the most beautiful lace Vicki had ever seen. She couldn’t repress an exclamation of admiration.

“Ah,” the man said, revealing broken yellow teeth in a wide grin. “The se?orita knows fine lace. Direct from Spain, se?or! A great bargain.”

Again Mr. Curtin pretended to be trying to make up his mind. And again he shook his head no.

“My goodness, Daddy!” Louise exclaimed when the man had gone. “That’s the dreamiest lace I ever saw in my life. Can’t we buy just one teeny little piece? It would look wonderful with my new white evening dress! What do you say, Daddy?”

Mr. Curtin laughed. “Am I going to have to spank you too? That’s stolen goods, honey. We look just for fun. But that’s all.”

143 A third man detached himself from a doorway and headed in their direction.

“Here comes another one,” Nina said. “You must look like a rich American, Daddy.”

When the man revealed the object he had for sale, everyone gasped. It was one of the tiny souvenir ships from the Gasparilla Festival in Tampa. But instead of being cheap brass, this one gleamed like pure gold.

Mr. Curtin’s eyes flashed. “Where did you get this?”

The man smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“Solid gold, se?or. I sell cheap.”

“Solid gold?” Vicki repeated incredulously.

“Sí, se?orita. Solid gold.”

Mr. Curtin laughed. “We’re from Tampa, fellow. We could buy all of those we wanted last week for a quarter. I must say you’ve done a nice polishing job. But go and find yourself another sucker.”

He waved the man away.

“Well, girls,” he said, “have you seen enough?”

“I’d like to buy something for Mother and Ginny before I leave,” Vicki said. “But I certainly wouldn’t want to buy stolen goods.”

“As I told you this morning, Vicki,” Mr. Curtin said, “this market is a curious mixture of thieves, smugglers, and honest men. Just across the square is Manuel Rodriguez’s jewelry shop. He specializes in Spanish antiques, and he’s144 thoroughly respectable. Maybe we can find something there.”

Mr. Curtin paid for their limeades, and they strolled across the cobbled square.

Manuel Rodriguez’s jewelry shop was completely unlike the Thieves’ Market that existed just outside its windows. The interior was plain and dignified, and glass display cases along its walls held beautiful pieces of finely wrought silver and gold.

A small man, wearing a trim swallowtail coat and a pince-nez, stepped out to greet them.

“Se?or y se?oritas,” he said, rubbing his hands together as though he was washing them in the air. “What may I do for you?”

“We’re just looking around,” Mr. Curtin explained.

“Please do,” the little man said. “If there is anything I can do—” He smiled and shrugged.

The girls browsed among the display cases; Nina keeping up a running chatter of “oh’s” and “ah’s.”

“Look here, Vicki,” Louise called from across the shop. “Come and see this necklace. It’s really the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen!”

As Vicki stepped to her side, she pointed out a huge emerald, the size and shape of a bluebird’s egg, suspended on a woven cord of spun gold. But it was not the emerald that made Vicki gasp with astonishment when she looked into 145
146the case. It was a heavy gold chain in the tray beside it.
The souvenir ship gleamed like pure gold

Hung on the end of the short gold chain was a large gold coin. It was the exact duplicate of one of the stolen coins that had been pictured in the Tampa newspaper. There was the profile of the queen wearing a high crown, the laurel wreaths that encircled the head, and the ring of stars around the rim.

Vicki was sure of it! Then she remembered the picture she had torn from the paper. She put her handbag on the top of the case and began to explore its contents. She finally found the clipping under a pile of loose change, bobby pins, lipstick, nail file—and all the other assorted odds and ends with which girls clutter up their handbags. She unfolded the piece of paper and compared the picture with the coin in the display case. There was no question about it. It was the same coin!

“Vicki,” Louise exclaimed, “what in the world are you doing?”

“Look at the coin on that heavy chain, Louise. Isn’t it the same one that’s in this picture?”

Louise looked at the coin in the case and then studied the newspaper clipping.

“Why, yes,” she gasped. “It certainly is. But where did you—”

“Sh-h-h!” Vicki cautioned.

The little jeweler had come up behind them.

147 “Yes?” he said expectantly.

Vicki pointed to the coin ............