(#24) The Clue in the Old Album (7 page)

The auctioneer called, “Sold to the young lady down front!”

The woman at the rear of the room muttered angrily and departed.

“She is Nitaka!” Nancy decided, as the gypsy’s scarf blew aside and revealed her carrot-colored hair.

Nancy decided to follow the woman. Quickly she explained her plan to her aunt and asked Miss Drew to pay for the doll and take it home with her.

“Please be careful,” Aunt Eloise pleaded.

“I will. Meet you at the apartment.”

Nancy trailed the gypsy to a subway station, where she nearly lost Nitaka as the woman boarded a train. The young sleuth dashed in just as the door closed. When Nitaka left the train, fifteen minutes later, Nancy climbed the stairs to the street a short distance behind her.

The woman turned into a large but shabby-looking apartment house. Nancy reached the building a few seconds later, but could find no trace of Nitaka in the dimly lighted halL

Annoyed and puzzled, she questioned a group of children who were playing on the sidewalk. They had not noticed the woman. On a sudden hunch Nancy asked them if any gypsies lived in the building.

“Are you a policewoman?” one of the boys demanded, his eyes showing fright.

“No, I’m not.”

“Did you come to have your fortune told?”

“If I can find a gypsy to read my palm, I will,” Nancy answered. She hoped the boy could lead her to Nitaka.

“My grandmother tells fortunes,” the lad declared.

“You’re not a gypsy, are you?”

“Sure I am, and so’s my grandmother. She tells swell fortunes, only the police won’t let her charge anything. ’Course if you like the fortune you can give her a gift. The police wouldn’t care about that.”

“I see,” Nancy said. “Where is your grandmother?”

“Upstairs. Come on, I’ll show you.”

The dark-eyed boy motioned for Nancy to follow him inside. Excited, she started across the sidewalk after him. Then she paused. Would she run into danger if Nitaka should catch sight of her?

“Come on!” the boy urged. “My grandmother won’t see anybody after twelve o’clock and it’s five minutes to twelve now!”

Nancy felt that there might possibly be some connection between Nitaka and the old gypsy woman. If she did not follow this very minute, she would miss her chance!

CHAPTER VIII

The Fortuneteller’s Trick

AS NANCY hesitated another moment and debated what to do, someone called her name. She turned and saw a young woman in a blue suit.

“Why, Alice, where in the world did you come from?” she cried.

“Nancy Drew! It’s good to see you again. What a wonderful surprise!” Alice Crosby exclaimed. She was the friend whom Nancy had intended to look up. The young woman said she was investigating a social-service case in the neighborhood.

“And what are you doing here?” she asked.

“I was just going to have my fortune told by a gypsy,” Nancy replied with a significant wink. “Want to join me?”

“You bet I will. I’d love to have my fortune told, too.” She winked back.

The friends followed the boy up the stuffy, dirty stairway to the third floor. From behind a closed door came the voices of two women quarreling. They spoke partly in Romany, partly in English.

“We need money for the Cause, I tell you! No excuses!” one of them said.

Nitaka!

“You are behind in your payments! I must have at least one hundred dollars!” she cried.

“Oh, we are poor. We have no money,” the other woman said with a whine. “The police stopped me from working. We can’t even get enough money for food!”

“Food! Is not salvation for all of us more important? Give me the money!”

As Nancy listened, her pulses quickened. Why was Nitaka demanding money? What was the Cause?

“Wait here,” the gypsy boy said. “I’ll tell Grandmother you want your fortune told.”

Before Nancy could restrain him, the boy burst through the door, shouting, “Customers!”

Instantly there was a hubbub inside. Chairs were pushed about and a door slammed. It was a few minutes before anyone appeared to greet the callers. Then a bent old woman hobbled into the outer room where Alice and Nancy stood. She had on a red flared skirt, and a yellow silk scarf draped completely over her head, face, and blouse.

“Hello, my pretties,” she cackled in a high-pitched voice.

“We’ve come to have our fortunes told,” Nancy said.

“You come too late,” the gypsy croaked. “No longer do I take money for telling fortunes. The police will not allow it.”

“But you could accept a gift?”

“What do you offer?”

Nancy took an attractive gold chain from her purse. The gypsy’s dark eyes gleamed.

“Sit down!” she ordered and pushed Nancy into a chair. “I will tell only one fortune—yours. Give me your gift.”

Nancy handed over the chain. The gypsy took the girl’s hand in her own and stared fixedly at the lines. Nancy in turn gazed down at the fortuneteller’s hands. She was surprised to note that the flesh was as firm and hard as that of a young person.

“You do not live in New York,” the gypsy said rapidly in her raspy voice. “I see you come here on a special mission to find someone. Am I right?”

“Possibly.”

“You seek to find that which never will come to you,” the woman continued. “If you value your life, you will return quickly to your home and stay there. Good times lie ahead of you. I see much money, but only if you give up your present search and cease meddling in the affairs of others!”

“Interesting,” Nancy commented. She decided upon a bold move. “As it happens, I came to this very house to find a woman named Nitaka. I wish to talk to her.”

The gypsy’s hand jerked away from hers.

“Nitaka has gone!” she muttered. Then, as an afterthought, she added, “She has not been here for a long time.”

“I don’t believe that,” Nancy replied, “because I heard her voice a few minutes ago. She must be in this apartment!”

“Nitaka is not here!” the gypsy repeated. “You do not believe me? Then look around and let your eyes tell you so.”

Nancy needed no second invitation. She opened a door to an adjoining room and walked in. Alice followed her. Huddled in a dark corner was an old gypsy woman. She was fully dressed except for a skirt.

Instantly Nancy realized that a trick had been played on her. The fortuneteller outside was not the gypsy lad’s grandmother, but Nitaka! She had put on the older woman’s skirt, and had hidden her face under the scarf!

Too late Nancy wheeled. Already Nitaka had disappeared into the hall. She had stripped off the skirt and scarf, which lay on the floor.

“Stop her, Alice!” Nancy urged.

The two girls rushed to the door but Nitaka was almost at the foot of the lowest stairway. All they could see was the top of her head. A moment later the carrot-haired woman reached the street.

“No use following her,” Alice advised. “And I must leave soon.”

She and Nancy went back to the apartment to find out what they could about Nitaka from the old gypsy and the little boy. After persistent questioning, they learned that Nitaka had been there several times. She tried to force them to pay tribute.

“Why do you give her money?” Nancy asked.

“We are afraid not to.” The old grandmother sighed. “Nitaka says the king of all gypsies will harm us if we do not obey her,”

“I don’t think you need worry any more,” Nancy said kindly. “Surely Nitaka will not come back here to bother you now that we’ve found her out.” She turned to Alice and whispered, “I think we’d better report Nitaka to the authorities.”

The girls left the apartment and hurried down the creaking stairs to the street.

“My, it’s good to breathe fresh air again!” Alice remarked. “It was terribly smelly up there. I’ll bet those rooms haven’t been cleaned and aired in a long time. I must look into that situation. Those people probably need help.”

“Do you know where the nearest police station is?” Nancy asked.

Alice, familiar with this part of the city, led Nancy to one a few blocks away. A pleasant lieutenant at the desk greeted them. The girls told him about Nitaka and suggested that the police watch for her on the chance she might return.

“I’ll send a plainclothesman over there at once,” he promised.

Nancy and Alice thanked him and left. The girls chatted for a while. Then, after making a date to meet for lunch the next day, they parted.

As Nancy walked toward the subway station, she found herself intrigued by the stores. In the window of a small antique shop several plush-covered albums were on display. “I’ll go inside and ask about them,” she decided.

The old storekeeper was not pleasant. “It’s a nuisance to get things out of the window!” he complained. “Folks always want to look, and never buy! I’m getting plumb tired of it!”

“I’ll buy one if I find the kind I’m looking for,” Nancy told him.

Grudgingly the man got them out one by one. He observed Nancy’s disappointed expression as she fingered through the albums. He offered her several others, which he took from beneath the counter. One had a red morocco-leather cover, trimmed in bands of gold leaf, with a gilt fastener. Another was of faded-blue satin with an ivory clasp and tiny yellow rosebuds painted on it.

“This old blue one contains verses,” the man said. “Silly stuff. But you could tear out the pages and put in new ones,” he suggested.

The shopkeeper thumbed through the album to a passage, which he read, “ ‘For if kith and kin and all had sworn, I’ll follow the gypsy laddie.’ Now does that make sense?”

“I think it does,” Nancy said, excited. “A person who had decided to take up his lot with the gypsies might have written it. May I see the album, please?”

Unable to hide her eagerness, Nancy scanned the pages. On the very last one she was astounded to come across a familiar quotation. Written in bold black ink was the sentence:

The source of light will heal all ills,
but a curse will follow him who takes
it from the gypsies.

Henrietta Bostwick

It was the same quotation that Mrs. Struthers had found in her album!

Thrilled by the discovery, Nancy turned back to the first page. A name, probably that of the original owner, had been written there, but the ink had faded and she could not decipher it.

“This album must have an interesting history,” Nancy remarked to the shopkeeper. “Where did you get it?”

“Oh, it came in a barrel of stuff from another antique shop. The place was going into bankruptcy, so I took part of the stock.”

Nancy bought the album and left the shop with mingled feelings of elation and defeat. Because of the strange quotation she was convinced that the unknown Henrietta Bostwick must have some connection with the Pepito family. How could she trace her?

Nancy passed the public library and on impulse went in. For two hours she pored over records on genealogy but could find no Bostwick family listing Henrietta as a member. After she had perused all the volumes on this subject, she returned to her aunt’s apartment.

“Oh, Nancy, I’m so glad you’ve come!” Miss Drew exclaimed as her niece entered the foyer. “I’ve been so worried.”

“Worried? Why, Aunt Lou, you know I can find my way around New York without a bit of trouble.”

“I haven’t been worried about you, Nancy. It’s a package that came.”

Nancy looked at the package lying on the table. It was addressed to her.

As she reached for it her aunt cried out, “No! No! Don’t touch it!”

“Why not, Aunt Lou?”

“A woman telephoned less than half an hour ago,” her aunt explained, excited. “She refused to give her name, but she warned me that it would be very dangerous for you to open the package!”

CHAPTER IX

A Strange Dismissal

NANCY looked closely at the package without touching it. Although clearly addressed to her, the sender’s name did not appear, and it had not been sent by mail or express.

“How did it come?” she asked her aunt.

“Up the dumbwaiter. Fifteen minutes after the package was delivered the mysterious phone warning came. Nancy, we must call the police!”

“Yes,” her niece agreed and reached for the telephone.

Within a few minutes two detectives were at the apartment. They examined the package.

“There might be a bomb in it,” one officer announced.

“But there’s no ticking sound,” Nancy protested. “In spite of the warning, the package may be perfectly harmless. I’d hate to ruin the contents unless it were necessary.”

“I agree,” the other detective said.

“Okay, we’ll open it,” his companion agreed, “but not here. We’ll take it back to headquarters for a test.”

Nancy and her aunt went along. They were fascinated by the detection gadget.

“Guess the package won’t pop,” the police officer said. “If the contents are dangerous, it’s for some other reason.”

The man untied the string, and removed the heavy brown wrapping paper.

“Can’t see a thing yet,” he muttered. “Well, here goes!”

He raised the cover of the box an inch and peered into the crack. Then with an exclamation of disgust, he threw off the top.

“Look what’s inside! Nothing but a doll! You’ve called the police for this!” he chided the Drews.

With a gesture of contempt, the detective started to pick up the doll. Nancy darted forward and cried, “Don’t touch that! It’s dangerous!”

“Dangerous? What do you mean?” the officer asked.

“It contains a drug! This witch doll was stolen a few days ago in Jefferson.”

“You’re sure?”

“I never saw the doll until now,” Nancy answered, “but I believe it’s the one. Perhaps you’d better check with the owner of the Jefferson Galleries to make sure.”

“We’ll do that,” the detective decided as he replaced the box cover.

“Any idea who sent you the package, and why?” his buddy asked.

Nancy was evasive. In her own mind she was satisfied that the doll was the stolen one and had been sent as an offering of ill will by Nitaka. Since she had no proof, the girl detective did not want to give the gypsy’s name to the police.