(#24) The Clue in the Old Album (3 page)

Mrs. Struthers had revived and was relieved that her granddaughter was safe. “Oh, my dear child!” she exclaimed and hugged Rose. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll be okay in a jiff, Gran,” Rose told her, wriggling out of the embrace.

“What happened?” Mrs. Struthers asked. After Nancy had related Rose’s story, the woman said,

“Thank goodness you girls were here.”

Although Mrs. Struthers was concerned over losing one of her precious dolls, she protested when Nancy suggested notifying the police. “I wish to avoid publicity. I’d prefer having you help me, Nancy. If you’ll come tomorrow, I’ll tell you the rest of my story.”

By this time, Nancy was more intrigued than ever with the case. “I’ll be here,” she promised.

At dinner that evening, Nancy told her father about the happenings of the afternoon. “The thieves got away in a black sedan,” she said regretfully, “and the license plate was so smeared with mud I couldn’t read it. But I did notice that the car was a new model.”

“A slim clue,” Carson Drew observed.

“I’ve promised to help Mrs. Struthers.” Nancy smiled. “Rose needs help too. She’s rude and undisciplined, but I think with her musical heritage she’d improve under some sort of artistic training.”

“I’m afraid it will take a good bit of training,” Mr. Drew declared.

The next day Nancy was about to leave for Mrs. Struthers’ home when her friend Bess Marvin arrived. Attractive and slightly plump, Bess was as feminine as George Fayne, her cousin, was tom-boyish. Bess was eager to go on a shopping spree. “Grab your pocketbook and we’ll be off!”

Nancy shook her head. “Sorry, Bess, I can’t make it.”

“You’re going somewhere with Ned Nickerson.” Bess teased.

“No.”

“Then you’re working on another mystery.”

“Yes.” Nancy smiled. “Hop in the car and I’ll drop you off at the mall.” On the way Nancy brought Bess up-to-date on her new case.

“How I’d love to see those dolls!” Bess sighed when the girls arrived at the shopping center.

Nancy promised to take her to the Struthers’ home soon. In a few minutes the young detective was seated in the doll collector’s living room. Mrs. Struthers explained that Rose was visiting a neighbor so there would be no interruptions.

“You missed the most important part of my story yesterday,” the woman began in a quiet voice. “I was telling you my daughter’s dying words.”

“Yes, said Nancy. ”You mentioned something about a clue.”

“A clue I’ve tried unsuccessfully to find,” Mrs. Struthers confided, “though I think it may be here. Perhaps you can uncover it.”

She unlocked a cabinet and removed a thick book. It appeared to be an old family album, covered with brass filigree work and studded with precious stones of various colors.

“This is a very valuable possession,” the woman explained, “and is filled with family photographs.”

“How does it tie in with the clue?” Nancy asked.

Mrs. Struthers sighed. “As my daughter lay on her deathbed, she seemed worried about Rose’s future. She tried desperately to tell me something. Her last words were, ‘Clue in ... the old album.’ ”

“In this one, you think?” Nancy queried as she turned the pages of the photograph album.

“I’m not sure,” Mrs. Struthers replied. Nancy stopped to look at the picture of a pretty child of about eight years of age. She was holding a doll. “That one is my daughter, Enid, when she was a little girl,” the woman said. “And here is a picture of Enid in her wedding dress.”

“Your daughter was beautiful,” said Nancy. “And the dress is lovely.”

“I never saw it.” Mrs. Struthers sighed. “Enid bought the dress herself and later, when she needed money, she sold it. When she returned home, she slipped this picture into the album. I found it after her death.”

“What was her married name?”

“Pepito. Mrs. Romano Pepito. But Rose uses the name of Struthers.”

“Your daughter’s final words were, ‘The doll. It’s gone. Find it for Rose,’ ” Nancy said. “Could she have meant the doll she holds in the photograph of herself as a child?”

“I thought so at first, but that doll is here in the house. It gave me no clue.”

“Apparently the lost doll holds a secret to something that would mean a great deal to Rose.” Nancy mused.

“Exactly,” the grandmother agreed. “Rose may have a hidden fortune somewhere.”

“You’ve searched the old album thoroughly?”

“Dozens of times. But perhaps your young eyes might detect something I’ve missed.”

Nancy was eager to examine the album.

“It’s possible my daughter didn’t mean this album,” Mrs. Struthers remarked thoughtfully. “She may have intended to tell me the all-important clue was hidden in an album belonging to the Pepito family.”

“Have you talked to any of them about it?”

“Impossible. I have no idea where they are living.”

“Can Rose explain what her mother meant?”

“She knew almost nothing about the Pepitos. My daughter was careful to keep such information from her. Enid told me very little. While she was here she scarcely mentioned her husband’s name, although I know Enid thought of him constantly.”

During the next hour, Nancy carefully went through the album. She could find no clue that appeared to have any bearing on the mystery.

“If we only had some hint about the doll your daughter meant,” Nancy said. “Even knowing if it had been misplaced, or perhaps sold, would help.”

“I rather doubt either of those possibilities,” Mrs. Struthers replied.

“It may have been stolen,” Nancy ventured.

The elderly woman hesitated. “There is something rather ominous that may be connected with the doll’s disappearance,” she confessed. “The jeweled album contained a note written in a strange handwriting. I was afraid Rose might see it some day and ask questions, so I destroyed it.”

“What did the paper say?”

“I can never forget the words,” Mrs. Struthers replied. “ ‘The source of light will heal all ills, but a curse will follow him who takes it from the gypsies!’ ”

“What a strange message!” Nancy exclaimed.

“My daughter must have placed the note in the jeweled album,” Mrs. Struthers explained, “although her reason for doing it puzzles me.”

“It may be a good clue,” declared Nancy. “Perhaps a member of her husband’s tribe sent the note.”

“Quite likely. I have always thought the writer meant it as a warning—perhaps to frighten my daughter.”

“True,” Nancy said. “Or even a friendly warning.”

“What do you think the message meant?” Mrs. Struthers asked.

Nancy shrugged. “Perhaps that the doll, which may light up or be adorned with shiny jewels, would bring bad luck to any owner but a gypsy.”

“In that case, maybe you had better not search for it,” said Mrs. Struthers, alarmed. “I should not want any harm to come to you.”

Nancy smiled. “Please don’t worry. I’ll be careful. The mystery is too intriguing to drop now.”

“If you do find the doll, I’ll see that you are properly compensated,” the collector told her.

“My reward will be the fun I’ll have searching for the doll,” Nancy said.

“And perhaps in adding it to my collection,” Mrs. Struthers suggested.

“I think I’d better see what dolls you have, so I won’t duplicate them.”

During the next hour and a half Nancy inspected the figures in the cabinet. The task took longer than she had expected, for they were so fascinating she could not bring herself to pass over them lightly.

The variety of materials the dolls were made of amazed the girl. Some were fashioned from such substances as cornhusks, dried apples, and horse-hair. One was just the bust of a lovely Asiatic lady.

“It’s a Chinese head doll,” Mrs. Struthers explained, “made of unglazed ceramic called
bisque.
In the mid-nineteenth century, china heads and limbs were made to go on wooden bodies. Now this little lady,” she added, picking up one in a quaint evening dress, “is Jenny Lind, the famous singer. You know, she first appeared in this country under the sponsorship of P.T. Barnum, of circus fame.”

“I see now that a person can learn a lot about history by collecting dolls. Where does the word ‘doll’ come from?”

“The origin of the word isn’t clear, though many authorities believe it’s a contraction of the English name Dorothy. In old Saxon times there was a word dol, meaning figure, and the Greeks used the word
ei-DOL-on,
which meant idol.”

“One can even learn about a language from dolls,” Nancy remarked, her eyes twinkling.

The girl’s gaze roved to a French swordsman high in the cabinet. The stalwart fellow stood alertly on guard, with his tiny steel saber poised as if to duel an imaginary opponent.

“How tricky!” Nancy exclaimed.

As she removed the figure from its niche, something sharp pierced her finger. The prick was deep and made Nancy wince.

“Why, the sword doll wounded me!” She laughed, rubbing her finger.

Mrs. Struthers was amazed, for she had never noticed that the sword was so sharp. Blood oozed from Nancy’s finger.

“I’ll get you a bandage,” the woman offered.

“Please don’t bother. The prick is nothing.” Nancy wrapped a tissue around her finger and gingerly put the sword doll back on the shelf.

Just then an outside door slammed. A moment later Rose stomped angrily into the room.

“Home early, aren’t you, dear?” her grandmother observed.

“Yes, and I’ll never play with that horrid girl again! She said I’m bossy and wild.”

“Oh, Rose, why can’t you behave like a little lady and get along with your playmates?” Mrs. Struthers fretted.

“ ‘Cause I’m not a lady yet and anyway maybe I don’t want to be one! Maybe I’ll be—I might even be a gypsy!”

“Don’t say that!” Mrs. Struthers scolded.

To relieve the tension Nancy changed the subject by asking Rose again about the man and woman who had stolen the doll the previous day. Rose told her that the man had dark eyes and hair, and a scar on his forehead. The woman had carrot-colored hair.

Nancy began to feel dizzy. She brushed a hand across her eyes. Everything in the room seemed blurred. As if from far away, she heard Rose cry out, “Granny, look at Nancy! She’s white as a ghost!”

“I feel strange,” Nancy mumbled.

Mrs. Struthers grasped the girl’s arm and guided her to a couch. Nancy collapsed upon it.

“What’s the matter with her?” Rose asked, terror-stricken.

“I don’t know. She was all right a moment ago. I can’t understand it.”

Nancy, fighting the dizziness, thought she knew what had happened. “Send ... for a ... doctor,” she pleaded. “I think ... the sword doll .. poisoned ... me!”

Then she lapsed into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER IV

The Child Bride

MRS. STRUTHERS became hysterical at Nancy’s sudden collapse. Mrs. Carroll, the housekeeper, hurried into the room.

“Nancy’s been poisoned!” Mrs. Struthers exclaimed. “Call Mr. Drew and Dr. Burney at once!”

Mrs. Carroll rushed to the telephone and summoned the two men, who reached the Struthers’ home at the same time. Mrs. Struthers explained what had happened.

“There’s the doll that pricked Nancy. She thought it poisoned her. Oh, this dreadful thing is all my fault!”

Dr. Burney examined Nancy. “She has been poisoned all right,” he announced. “The dose probably was a light one, and she’ll be all right. I’d like to find out what it was, though, so I can give her an antidote.”

Mr. Drew examined the sword doll. It took him a few minutes before he found a tiny button at the hilt of the sword. When he pressed it, a needle shot out. From it dripped a single drop of fluid.

“How dreadful!” Mrs. Struthers cried.

Dr. Burney identified the poison by its odor and prepared an antidote. “Your daughter will probably sleep heavily for an hour,” he told the lawyer, “and should be kept quiet until tomorrow.”

Mr. Drew wanted to take Nancy home, but the physician advised against this. Mrs. Struthers insisted that the young girl remain where she was. Mr. Drew suggested that it might be helpful if Hannah Gruen stayed with Nancy for the night.

Mrs. Struthers agreed to the plan, and within half an hour Mrs. Gruen arrived in a taxi. She listened to the doctor’s orders and promised they would be carried out to the letter.

“Call me if Nancy fails to awaken within an hour,” the physician instructed as he was leaving.

When almost an hour had elapsed and she had not awakened, Mr. Drew became alarmed. As he was about to call the doctor, Nancy opened her eyes. “Where am I?” she mumbled, sitting up.

“With Hannah and me,” said Mr. Drew. He placed his daughter back gently against the pillow. “Everything is all right.”

Reassured, Nancy sighed and snuggled down for some more sleep. Mr. Drew was satisfied that she was out of danger and left.

The next morning Mrs. Struthers brought in the River Heights
Gazette
from the porch. She gasped as she read the headline.

NANCY DREW POISONED BY MYSTERIOUS
DOLL AT STRUTHERS HOME

“Good gracious!” the woman exclaimed. “Where did the paper ever learn about this?”

She was sure no one in the house had given the story to the newspaper. As her mind flew from one possibility to another, she stopped short in her thinking.

Rose!

Mrs. Struthers recalled that her granddaughter had been away from the house after Nancy’s accident the previous afternoon. As soon as Rose appeared, Mrs. Struthers showed her the headline.

“Rose, what do you know about this?”

“Oh, I told some kids down the street, and Lorna’s father writes for the paper.”

“This article even describes how that couple in the car stole our fan doll, and I didn’t want any publicity about it!”

“I mentioned that when he called to confirm the story.”

Mrs. Struthers sighed. “Whatever shall I do with you, Rose?”

The girl became sulky and would not eat breakfast. The situation was not relieved when Nancy appeared and saw the newspaper account. She had recovered from the effects of the poison, but this new development embarrassed and disturbed her.