(#30) The Clue of the Velvet Mask (9 page)

“Your wallet. Do you still have it?”

The guest fumbled in his pocket. “Gone,” he admitted ruefully. “I’ve been robbed.”

“Did it contain anything besides money?” Nancy asked.

“Yes—several cards, including the lecture invitation.”

The stranger identified himself as Albert G. Brunner and said he had come alone. Nancy introduced herself and told him of her suspicions. She offered to help Mr. Brunner into the house, saying a doctor should be summoned.

Nancy managed to assist the man the short distance to the house. There she was relieved of his care by two solicitous servants.

Instantly Nancy sought Mr. Lightner. But even he believed the darkness had been a temporary power shutoff.

An investigation was started at once. It revealed that valuable silver pieces and figurines were missing from the first floor and jewelry from the second.

“This will ruin me!” Mr. Lightner confided to Nancy.

“Surely it isn’t that bad,” Nancy said soothingly. “By the way, where is Mr. Tombar?”

“I haven’t seen him. I suppose he’s out looking for those thieves.”

Nancy decided to find out for herself. Checking room after room, she finally located him in the kitchen, giving instructions to the caterers. Nancy watched Tombar until he was free, then casually started talking to him about the theft.

“I was outdoors and didn’t see a thing,” she said chattily. “How about you?”

“Say, what is this, a third degree?” Tombar snapped at her, and stalked off.

There was nothing more she could do. The police had arrived and taken charge. Nancy listened as they made the usual checkup. The same robbery pattern as before! Not a clue left by the wily party thieves!

On the way home Nancy thought about the Velvet Gang. They would never be caught by ordinary methods. They were too clever at anticipating the traps laid for them,

Nancy’s thoughts also turned to Tombar. The man was an enigma. He was certainly faithful to his job, and since he knew nothing about the marked invitations, he could not have tipped off the thieves about them.

“Still I don’t trust him,” Nancy said to herself. “I wish I could go to that wedding Friday night. Then I could watch Tombar myself. But I can’t refuse to attend Helen Tyne’s dance at this late date. And Ned would never forgive me if I disappointed him.”

Next morning at breakfast Nancy was turning over several plans of action in her mind when Bess Marvin arrived.

“Hi, Nancy! she said but did not smile.

“Hello, yourself, welcome back. What’s wrong, Bess? You don’t usually get over here so early.”

“It’s George. The doctor says she’s still suffering the effects of that frightening kidnapping episode. Personally, I think it’s more than that. George is scared out of her wits about something.”

“She never was frightened of anything before.”

“I know,” Bess admitted soberly. “Something strange has come over her—it’s as if she were under a spell. Won’t you talk to her? For some reason, she’s especially troubled about you.”

“Me?” Nancy echoed, surprised. A few minutes later they left the house to call on George.

The girl did not look ill, although she was propped against pillows in a living-room chair. After Nancy had chatted with her a few minutes, however, she knew that Bess was right.

“What happened last night?” George asked anxiously. “I read about the robbery in the paper. I’m sure you were there.”

“Yes.”

“Nancy, I asked you to give up the case! You don’t understand what you’re up against. Those fiends will stop at nothing—nothing—” George cried out hysterically.

Bess and Nancy soothed their friend as best they could, but Nancy would not promise to give up her sleuthing completely. Mrs. Fayne came in to attend her daughter, and a few minutes afterward the girls left.

“Just seeing me seems to excite poor George,” Nancy remarked when she and Bess reached the sidewalk.

“We must avoid talking about the mystery when we’re with her,” Bess suggested.

“But she’s the one who always brings it up,” Nancy said with a sigh. “Bess, this is awful.”

“I know. Maybe you ought to give up the case —or at least pretend to. Then maybe George will get better.”

“I’ll follow your advice,” Nancy promised. “I’ll do a good pretending job. Right now, I’m going to Taylor’s. Want to come along?”

“Sure.”

They called on Mr. Johnson to ask about the return of employees’ charge plates.

“Not many more have come in,” he reported. “We’re too busy to go around collecting them. Sorry. I’ll let you know what happens.”

Nancy was deeply disappointed by his lack of interest. “I can’t understand it,” she told Bess. “He doesn’t seem to care whether he has a thief working for him or not.”

As they passed the jewelry counter, Nancy caught sight of Alice Tompson, a former class-mate, who had recently taken a job at Taylor’s. The three girls chatted for a few minutes. Nancy asked Alice if she had turned in her charge plate as requested by the management.

“Why, no,” Alice replied. “I was going to, but then a note came around changing the order.”

“Changing it! Why?”

“I don’t know. It just said we weren’t to send the plates in after all.”

“So that’s why so few were returned,” Nancy mused. “I wonder if Mr. Johnson himself sent out the order.”

Curious to know the truth, she and Bess immediately returned to the credit manager’s office. Mr. Johnson was elsewhere in the store, but his secretary assured the girls that the order had not come from him.

“If I were you, though, I wouldn’t bother him about it,” she advised. “He has an important conference today. The entire matter is annoying to him.”

Nancy felt completely frustrated. It was such a good chance to catch the thief and it was being thrown away!

“I guess I’ll have to give up the idea,” she admitted to Bess.

“Oh, you’ll think up some other scheme,” her friend said loyally.

With time on their hands, the girls walked idly through the store. Bess looked at blouses and selected one. Finally they returned to the jewelry department to purchase a birthday gift for Mrs. Marvin.

“A new assortment of art objects just came in this morning. I’ve been arranging them in a showcase,” Alice told Bess. “We have a lovely miniature painted on porcelain. I’ll show it to you.”

“I’m afraid that would be too expensive—”

“Not this one.” Alice smiled. “The price, in my opinion, is ridiculously low. In fact, I was amazed when I saw the tag. Come and look at it.”

She led the girls to a counter on which a number of small gifts were displayed. One of them was a miniature of Marie Antoinette.

Nancy drew in her breath, stunned. She could not believe the sight before her eyes. The lovely picture looked exactly like the one which had been stolen from Gloria Hendrick’s home!

CHAPTER XII

Clever Detection

“THIS must be the stolen miniature!” Nancy gasped.

“It might be a copy,” Bess suggested.

“It doesn’t look like a copy,” Nancy insisted. “The gold frame has a number of tiny scratches on it as if it were old. Bess, I’m sure this was stolen from the Hendricks’ collection.”

The two girls examined the miniature in detail, and Nancy told of having seen it before the robbery.

“But, Nancy, Taylor’s wouldn’t accept stolen merchandise,” Alice objected.

“Not knowingly. But this may have been sold to them without their realizing it was stolen. Perhaps they got it from an antique dealer.”

All agreed that the miniature was greatly underpriced, even if it were only an excellent copy of the original. Nancy promptly bought the miniature. She would find out for certain if it had been stolen from the Hendricks.

“Have you others like these?” Nancy asked.

“I know a shipment came in, but all the merchandise isn’t on the floor yet,” Alice replied. “I’ll ask Mr. Watkins about it. He’s head of our department.”

Mr. Watkins was a stubby, white-haired man with glasses. When he saw the miniature which was being wrapped for Nancy, he glanced quickly at the tag.

“This item must have been mismarked,” he said. “Taylor’s wouldn’t ask you to pay more, of course, but I must check invoices before any other articles in the shipment are sold.”

Nancy expressed a desire to see the other miniatures.

“We’ll look into this,” the elderly man said. “Come with me to the marking room.”

He led Nancy and Bess to a rear exit and across an alleyway to a building used for receiving.

“Snecker!” he called loudly, switching on an overhead light. “Hey, Snecker!” As a young clerk emerged from an adjoining room, Mr. Watkins asked, “Where is he?”

“He’s not here,” the boy said. “Mr. Snecker’s taken the day off.”

“Again?” Mr. Watkins remarked irritably.

He explained to Nancy and Bess that Ralph Snecker was in charge of uncrating and marking all items to be put on sale, and shipping damaged goods back to factories.

“Then if a mistake were made in pricing the miniature, it would be Mr. Snecker’s fault?” Nancy asked.

“That’s right. This miniature is underpriced —no question about that. I’ll examine the invoices.”

Nancy and Bess waited patiently in a window-less stuffy room while he checked through records and bills. Crates and boxes were piled all about, many not yet opened.

“Strange,” Mr. Watkins remarked presently. “I can’t seem to find an invoice for the piece you have. I know a small shipment came in from abroad.” He questioned the clerk, but the young man knew nothing about the miniature.

“I’ll take it up with Mr. Snecker tomorrow,” Mr. Watkins said.

“Is he an old and trusted employee?” Nancy asked casually.

“No, he hasn’t been with Taylor’s very long,” Mr. Watkins admitted. “However, he’s an efficient worker. Takes too many days off, though. Either he’s ill or he has to go fishing. The minute he’s through work, away he goes to the country.”

Mr. Watkins was still checking through a stack of papers in search of the invoice.

“The fishing bug bit Snecker hard. Why, he goes out to the river summer and winter, clear, rainy, or snowy!”

This struck Nancy as odd. How did the man manage to keep up with his work? She thought she had better meet and question him soon, since it seemed probable he might be dismissed before long. She decided to return to the store the next day.

Meanwhile, she and Bess called at the Hendricks’ home. When Gloria and her mother saw the miniature they instantly identified it as theirs.

“The idea of Taylor’s selling stolen merchandise!” Mrs. Hendrick exclaimed indignantly. “Wait until I tell the police!”

“I have a hunch the store isn’t to blame,” said Nancy.

“Well, anyhow, you got one of our treasures back,” Gloria spoke up. “You’re so clever, Nancy!”

The young detective shook her head modestly. “There’s a lot of work to do on this case yet.”

Mrs. Hendrick smiled. “Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure you’ll solve it.”

Next morning Nancy hurried to the department store. To her disappointment, Snecker had telephoned that he was too ill to work.

“Very likely he’s out fishing,” Mr. Watkins grumbled.

During the brief conversation with the elderly man, Nancy learned that the note sent to employees countermanding the order to turn in their charge plates had been unsigned. At once she became suspicious and her thoughts turned to Snecker and the stolen miniature.

“Do you know where Mr. Snecker lives?” Nancy asked Mr. Watkins.

He consulted a book under the counter. “Twenty-four Tanner Street.”

Nancy thanked Mr. Watkins for the information and left the store. She stopped to ask a traffic policeman the way to Tanner Street. He gave directions to a section of town with which she was not familiar.

After riding through several drab, unattractive streets, Nancy finally came to the one she sought. The Snecker house was at the far end of it. The red-brick dwelling was run-down and old.

Nancy applied the brakes, intending to pull into a vacant space a short distance beyond the building. As she slowed down, another car which had been parked directly in front of the four-story house pulled away from the curb.

“Now, where have I seen that car before?” Nancy thought.

Her pulse quickened. The car was a mud-splattered green sedan. Though she caught only a fleeting glimpse of the driver, she recognized him at once.

“That’s Peter Tombar!” she thought. “Has he been at Ralph Snecker’s? And why?”

Nancy wanted to follow Tombar. She might pick up a clue!

But almost at once she discarded the idea in favor of calling on Snecker. She had an excuse which she could not use another time—one which might prove helpful in solving the mystery.

Nancy parked at the curb and went into the apartment-house vestibule. She pressed a buzzer above the name of Ralph Snecker. In a moment a shrill feminine voice answered through the tube.

“Who’s there?”

“I’m from Taylor’s,” Nancy replied, purposely not giving her name.

The woman seemed a trifle flustered. “I’ll be right down.”

In a moment a tall woman appeared, breathing heavily from her haste. She had a determined chin and narrow blue eyes.

“Are you Mrs. Snecker?” Nancy asked politely.

“I am,” she replied, eyeing the girl warily. “The store sent you, you said?”

“I came to inquire about your husband. We’re worried concerning his absence.”

“I know, I know,” the woman said impatiently. “They always send some busybody around to ask questions. Well, you can tell ’em he’s sick again!”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Nothing serious, I hope.”

“He’s in bed with the asthma. I tell ’im if he’d stay away from the river he wouldn’t get these attacks. He’s supposed to take some medicine, but how can he when we don’t have no money?”

Nancy feigned concern. “You’re having a hard time of it, aren’t you?”

“Whadda ya expect on his salary? Maybe he ain’t no hustler, if you know what I mean. I tell ’im he ought to ask for more, but—”

Mrs. Snecker’s tirade was interrupted by a loud call from up the stairway.