(#24) The Clue in the Old Album (5 page)

“That old fellow Zorus was a strange guy,” the manager remarked. “Never even said they were leaving.”

“How about Anton and Nitaka?” Nancy queried. “Did they go with the others?”

“I didn’t know any of them except their king.”

“King?” Mr. Drew inquired. “Was Zorus their king?”

“That’s what they called him,” the manager explained. “And treated him like one, too.”

On the drive home Rose fell asleep in the back seat. Nancy reflected on the information she had received from the carnival manager. Were the couple she suspected of stealing Mrs. Struthers’ doll subjects of Zorus? Had he, perhaps, instructed Anton and Nitaka to take it?

Mr. Drew broke in on his daughter’s thoughts. “Guess you scared the gypsies away,” he said.

“I’ll keep on looking for Anton and Nitaka just the same,” Nancy replied.

When the Drews delivered Rose to her home, Mrs. Struthers requested that Nancy attend a sale of dolls in another state the following week. She suggested that George and Bess go with her. Nancy agreed.

At nine o’clock Monday morning, she and her friends met at the River Heights airport and boarded a plane for Jefferson. When the girls were seated and ready for takeoff a last-minute passenger rushed inside. She flopped into an aisle seat several rows ahead of Nancy, Bess, and George.

Nancy nudged her friends. “Nitaka just got on the plane!” she whispered.

“You mean that carrot-haired woman?” Bess asked. “She isn’t wearing gypsy clothes.”

“The woman who stole Mrs. Struthers’ doll wasn’t wearing them at the time, either,” said Nancy. “The gypsies left the carnival, but evidently they didn’t move very far away,” she guessed.

“Where do you suppose Nitaka’s going?” George asked.

“I have no idea, but I mean to follow her, now that I have a chance,” Nancy decided. “If she doesn’t get off at Jefferson, I’ll stay on the plane until she does.”

“Oh, please don’t,” Bess begged. “You might get into troublel”

“What about the doll sale?” George asked.

“You girls will have to go to it.” As the cousins groaned and insisted they could not do the job without her, Nancy replied, “If Nitaka is a thief and she could lead me to something important, you wouldn’t want me to give up the chase, would you?”

“I suppose not,” George said grudgingly.

Not once during the flight to Jefferson did Nitaka glance over her shoulder. She seemed indifferent to the scenery and devoted herself to a booklet, which she read many times.

The girls were the first passengers off the plane when it landed at Jefferson. They kept out of sight and watched to see if Nitaka would alight also.

Nancy had just about decided she was not going to, when the woman appeared. She hastened through the terminal and jumped into a cab.

“Hurry, or we’ll lose her!” Nancy cried out to her friends.

After a little delay the girls found a taxi. By this time Nitaka’s cab was far down the road.

“Will you please try to overtake that taxi?” Nancy asked their driver.

The elderly man was not willing to do so. As they reached the heart of Jefferson, they realized they had lost the trail of the other vehicle.

“It turned down a side street somewheres,” the driver mumbled. “I was watching sharp, but I didn’t see which way it went.”

“Never mind.” Nancy sighed. “Please drive us to the Jefferson Galleries.”

It was now after eleven and Nancy feared many of the dolls might have been sold.

“We’ll have to hurry or we’ll be too late,” she declared. “I hope I haven’t failed Mrs. Struthers.”

Ten minutes later the girls were at the galleries. The salesrooms were thronged with customers. Nancy was relieved to learn that while nearly all the fine old silver and jewelry had been sold, few of the dolls had been.

“Why did Mrs. Struthers want you to come to this particular sale?” Bess asked as the girls walked toward the counter where the dolls were displayed.

“Most of the dolls are old and valuable, so there’s a chance the stolen fan doll is here, and even the one Mrs. Struthers’ daughter wanted her to find,” Nancy explained.

She examined the dolls carefully, but found none that she wanted. Nancy asked a salesman if he had any others for sale that were not on display —any that lighted up or had gems sewed on their costumes.

“The most attractive dolls have been sold,” he answered. “One like the one you mention was among them. A king with a jeweled robe.”

“Just my luck!” Nancy groaned. “Who bought the doll?”

“The woman didn’t give her name. She paid cash. Oh, there she is—leaving with her package.”

Nancy turned and caught a glimpse of the retreating figure who was now outside the galleries. Nitaka!

Nancy ran after the gypsy, but was too late to stop her. Nitaka entered a taxi and already was far down the street before the girl reached the sidewalk.

“This is the worst yet!” Nancy said when she returned to Bess and George. “That woman may have bought the very doll I’m trying to find!”

The manager overheard Nancy’s remark. He introduced himself and said, “If you’re interested in fine dolls, perhaps you’d like to see one that is more valuable than any sold here today.”

“Is it for sale?” Nancy asked, hope reviving in her.

“No, and we never have displayed the doll. Wait here and I’ll bring it from the back room.”

The manager was gone at least ten minutes. When he returned, the girls saw at once that something was wrong.

“What became of that doll we kept in the office safe?” he asked several salesmen.

“You removed it this morning,” one of the men reminded him.

“Yes, one of the doll’s hands needed repairing. I took it out of the safe and put it on my desk. Now it’s gone! Someone must have sold it by mistake!”

Each of the salesmen denied taking part in such a transaction.

“Then the doll has been stolen!” the manager cried. “In the hands of the wrong person, it can be a very dangerous thing!”

CHAPTER VI

Upsetting News

NANCY asked the manager of the Jefferson Galleries what he meant about the doll’s being dangerous, but he was reluctant to tell her.

“Is the doll one of the poisonous types?” she asked.

The man gave her a startled glance. “Why ... er ... yes. It is,” he admitted nervously. “We intended to sell the witch doll to a museum, and therefore hadn’t removed the poisonous powder from it. When you touch a certain spot, the powder sifts out. Its fumes induce deep sleep. An overdose could be fatal!”

“Oh!” Bess cried.

“You’ll notify the police and the newspapers at once?” Nancy suggested. “If the information is published, the thief or anyone else will be warned before he’s harmed.”

“Yes. I’ll call them right now,” the manager promised. As he started away, he mumbled something about how it would serve the thief right if he were poisoned.

The girls were about to leave the galleries when Nancy noticed a half-opened chest filled with dolls. A salesman came toward her and asked if she were interested.

“There are some unusual items in this chest,” he said. “Here’s one that may interest you,” he added, offering Nancy a strange-looking figure with four different faces. “It dates back to about 1870.”

One side of the bisque head laughed, one cried, another pouted, and the fourth had its eyes closed as if in sleep. The head rotated in a socket so that a child playing with the doll could choose whatever expression she desired.

“How much is this one?” Nancy asked. She felt sure Mrs. Struthers would like to add it to her collection.

The man mentioned a price below what Nancy had expected, so she quickly made the purchase. While the young girl waited for the package to be wrapped, her gaze fastened on a counter stacked with albums. Eagerly she looked among the old plush-covered books. Several were family albums decorated with raised, ornate words.

“Albums like those aren’t unusual,” George said impatiently. “My grandmother has a couple of them. Please come!”

But Nancy continued to look through the stack of albums. Then a name on one at the bottom of the pile caught her eye.

Euphemia Struthers

Eagerly Nancy flipped the pages, but was disappointed to find that every photograph had been removed. Nevertheless, hopeful that this Euphemia might have been related to Mrs. Struthers, and that the album might contain the clue Rose’s mother had spoken of on her deathbed, Nancy purchased the book.

“Now, let’s leave before you find something else to buy!” George pleaded, pulling Nancy away.

The girls lunched at a tearoom across the street. Later they went for a walk before returning to the airport.

As they passed an empty lot at the end of a dead-end street, Bess kicked aside a soiled and stained piece of paper. George picked it up.

“Looks like an old concert program,” she said.

“That’s exactly what it is,” Nancy added as she read over George’s shoulder. “And see whose name is featured—Romano Pepito’s!”

“The gypsy violinist!” Bess exclaimed. “How did it get here?”

“From the looks of this lot a gypsy caravan could have camped here recently.” Nancy explained. She walked over to a pile on the ground and discovered it was a tattered old tent. There were also the remains of a fire.

“Perhaps some of the campers knew Romano Pepito,” Bess said.

“He may even have been here himself!” Nancy suggested. “Oh, I’d give anything to find the group and ask them about Pepito.”

“No time to do that now,” George said. “If we’re going to catch the plane to River Heights, we’d better hop a cab to the airport.”

The driver made such a quick trip to the terminal, that Nancy had time to call Mrs. Struthers and tell her about the purchases. Mrs. Carroll answered the phone.

“Oh, Nancy, something dreadful has happened since you’ve been gone. Can you come here direct from the plane?”

The young detective agreed to do that. When she reached the Struthers’ home, the housekeeper was waiting for her.

“Matters are in a bad state,” Mrs. Carroll said.

“What’s wrong?”

“A child in the neighborhood, Janie Bond, started a story that Rose’s father is a gypsy. To make it worse, she said all gypsies are thieves!”

“Oh, how unfair!” Nancy exclaimed. “Rose’s father was a talented violinist.”

“Yes, I know,” the housekeeper agreed. “Mrs. Struthers told me the whole story this morning, but she hasn’t mentioned a thing to Rose.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, and naturally Rose believes what Janie says. Won’t you see what you can do with Mrs. Struthers?”

“Is she in her room?”

“Yes. She gets more beside herself by the minute. I wanted to call the doctor, but she wouldn’t let me.”

Nancy hurried up the stairs and went direct to Mrs. Struthers, who was lying on the bed.

“Oh, my dear, what am I going to do?” the anxious woman cried out.

Nancy took Mrs. Struthers’ hand in her own and tried to quiet her. “Please don’t be so upset,” she said. “Children say things without thinking and forget them the next minute.”

“But not this,” Mrs. Struthers said. “The disgrace of it! Things were bad enough before, but now to have everyone think my daughter married a thief!”

“Please, Mrs. Struthers. Intelligent people know most gypsies are fine people, and wouldn’t believe little Janie Bond.”

Nancy went on to say that what other people thought was of far less importance anyway than what the blow might do to Rose. “She’s a sensitive child, and if things aren’t straightened out in her mind she may do something drastic.”

“In what way?” Mrs. Struthers asked.

“Oh, run away, for instance.”

The woman looked frightened. She did not speak for several seconds, then said, “Nancy, you are a wise person. I can see I lost my head. I’ll tell Rose everything at once!”

As the woman rose from the bed Nancy laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Would you like to suggest to Rose that on account of her father’s work he was unable to return to his family, but that he will as soon as he can?”

Mrs. Struthers smiled. “It is very good advice. I’ll take it. Will you come with me?”

“No. I’ll wait in the living room.”

Mrs. Struthers went to Rose’s room and stayed for half an hour. Then the two went downstairs, where Nancy was waiting.

How changed both looked! They were actually smiling at each other! Nancy learned that the only barrier not crossed was that Rose stubbornly refused to return to school. She was afraid children might make fun of her.

Again Mrs. Struthers appealed to Nancy, who thought a moment, then said, “Why don’t you arrange to have Rose tutored at home and add music and dancing to her studies?”

“Oh, please let me, Granny,” Rose pleaded. “And I want to play the violin like my father!”

“All right,” Mrs. Struthers agreed. “Whom do you recommend, Nancy? I don’t know any teachers in River Heights.”

Nancy knew an excellent retired schoolteacher and gave Mrs. Struthers her name and address. She also wrote down those of the best music and dancing teachers in River Heights. Mrs. Struthers thanked her profusely for the help.

As Nancy left the house, she decided to talk to Janie Bond. “How in the world did that girl learn Rose is part gypsy?”

At the school Nancy found out from some little girls who Janie was and stopped her as she started home. The child became frightened when she realized she was being questioned about Rose.

“I don’t know anything about her,” she said sullenly, “so let me go.”

“Who told you Rose is a gypsy?”

“I’m not going to tell!”

“Then I’ll ask your mother.” Nancy walked off in the direction of the Bond home.

“No, wait!” Frantically Janie ran after her. “Don’t tell Mom the story I started!” she pleaded. “I’ll explain anything you want to know.”

“I’m so glad you changed your mind, Janie,” Nancy said. “First, tell me who told you Rose is a gypsy?”

“A strange woman,” Janie explained. “I was in front of our school with some kids when she drove up. She asked us if Rose had come out yet.”

“And you said?”

“That Rose had gone home.”