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It’s nice to have a friend in a strange city.”
    â€œI am happy to have been of assistance,” San Marten replied. “If you take my advice, you will not remain at this hotel. Go somewhere else.”
    â€œWe will,” Frank assured him, “as soon as Joe’s back on his feet.”
    While they were speaking, Joe regained consciousness. The doctor examined him and pronounced him out of danger.
    When Joe stood up, he wobbled. “I’m a trifle queasy,” he said. But gradually he felt stronger and the physician left.
    â€œIncidentally,” San Marten said, “where is the friend you were looking for?”
    â€œWe don’t know. He checked out before we arrived,” Frank replied.
    â€œIt is strange that the young man departed so suddenly,” San Marten said. “Perhaps something happened to him.”
    â€œGraham must have been in a tizzy,” Joe agreed. “After all, he left without his jacket.”
    â€œAnd his cigarette lighter,” Frank added. “That is, if it was really his.”
    A bellboy opened the door and San Marten called him in.
    â€œPerhaps you can give us some information about the former occupant of this room?”
    â€œYes, sir. A very rich American by the name of Graham Retson. About my age.”
    â€œWhat became of him?” Frank asked eagerly. “Did he say anything to you about where he was going?”
    â€œAll I can tell you is that he left the hotel in the company of two men. I do not know what their destination was.”
    â€œDid you know the men?” Joe asked.
    â€œOne of them,” the bellboy stated. “I have seen him before many times at the Ver-O-Peso market. But I do not know his name or what he does.”
    Close questioning of the bellboy elicited no further information and he left.
    â€œIf you like, I will be glad to take you to the Ver-O-Peso market to look for your friend,” San Marten said.
    â€œWe’d appreciate it,” Frank said.
    The boys took a room at the hotel, then sallied out into Belem with the Brazilian.
    Crowds of people streamed past them on the streets. Rickety cars bumped over the cobblestones. A wisp of smoke drifting by carried the scent of roasting nuts.
    San Marten smiled as he sniffed the aroma. “Nuts are one of the most important exports of our country. See this truck? Those big bags piled on top are full of Brazil nuts.”
    Joe noticed a monkey climb to the top of the sacks. He was about to call attention to him when suddenly one of the bags moved.
    â€œFrank! Jump!” Joe yelled.
    The massive bag smashed on the cobblestones where Frank had been. The truck stopped, the monkey disappeared, and the driver recovered his cargo.
    â€œThanks for the warning, Joe,” Frank said. “I’d hate to be knocked off the case by a bag of nuts. But accidents will happen.”
    Joe was not convinced that it was an accident. The monkey had pushed the nuts. Could someone have put him up to it? Or was he just monkeying around?
    The three stopped for lunch in a small restaurant, then continued on to the colorful market. They walked between stalls heaped with tropical fruits, sandals, and gewgaws.
    Sellers offered their wares, buyers scoffed at prices, and haggling went on amid a din of Portuguese epithets.
    Joe gestured toward one of the stalls. “How about a baby python, Frank? Or maybe you’d settle for some alligator teeth?”
    â€œNo thanks. I think I’ll take a voodoo charm home to Aunt Gertrude,” Frank replied.
    Joe tried to find an opportunity to tell his brother about the monkey but San Marten did not leave their side.
    Finally they stopped in front of a witchcraft stall, where a wizened, gnome-like old man offered to sell them weird idols, magical potions, and wax figures in which to stick pins.
    San Marten spoke to the man in Portuguese, then turned to the boys. “We’re invited to join a voodoo rite. Buru here