The Clue in the Jewel Box

CHAPTER IV

As Nancy, Bess, and George waited expectantly, Mrs. Alexandra raised the lid of the enamel Easter egg. Rising from a nest of velvet was a tiny tree made of emeralds. A delicately fashioned golden nightingale was perched on a branch.

“How lovely!” Bess exclaimed in awe.

Mrs. Alexandra pressed a concealed spring and the nightingale began to sing. The song was brief and somewhat artificial, but nevertheless amazing. Nancy thought she detected words and repeated them to herself. Then she decided she must be mistaken since Mrs. Alexandra did not mention them. The former queen said, “I treasure this bird not only for itself, but because it was given to me by my son. It was only a short time before his untimely death,” she added. “It is my hope that someday I will find my grandson and pass it on to him. Michael would be nearly thirty years old now.”

Nancy had not intended to tell the story of Francis Baum, fearing that it might prove to be another disappointment to the former queen. Shortly, however, Mrs. Alexandra revealed that Michael’s nurse had had a photograph of the boy identical to the miniature she possessed. Excitedly Nancy told about meeting with the young man and the picture she had found.

“Perhaps he is my grandson!” the woman declared in an agitated voice. “Tell me, did he resemble the boy in the photograph?”

Nancy was compelled to reply that she had noticed no similarity.

“Please find him!” Mrs. Alexandra urged. “Even if he is not Michael, he may know what has become of him.” Nancy promised to do everything possible to trace the missing prince.

After the girls had left the house, Bess remarked, “I feel as if I had been dreaming. What did you think of the Easter egg, Nancy?”

“It’s beautiful,” she replied. “But to tell the truth, I was a bit disappointed. The nightingale didn’t sing as it should have.”

“I noticed the same thing!” George agreed. “It didn’t even sound like a bird.”

Nancy returned thoughtfully, “Oh, well, the work was perfect otherwise. Who are we to criticize royal treasure?” She laughed. “My job is to find Francis Baum.”

Upon reaching home Nancy wrote down the incomplete name and address which she had glimpsed on the card in the young man’s wallet. Curiously she stared at the letters:

thson

ter St.

“If I can only fill these out, I may be able to contact someone who knows Mr. Baum.”

Nancy pored over the telephone directory, eliminating name after name. Finally she came to one that seemed to be a good possibility-J. J. Smithson, 25 Oster Street.

“That might be worth investigating.”

The next afternoon she walked with Bess and George to Oster Street in the business section.

J. J. Smithson proved to be the owner of a small leather-goods shop. He readily answered Nancy’s questions. Francis Baum had worked for him only a few days. “He didn’t like this kind of work,” the man said. “I haven’t seen Baum since the day he quit, but I believe he still lives at Mrs. Kent’s guesthouse nearby.”

Nancy obtained the address, and the girls continued on. Mrs. Kent, the landlady, repeated Francis Baum’s name, then shook her head.

“He was here,” she said, “but moved out.”

“Did he leave a forwarding address?” Nancy asked.

“No, he didn’t. I’ll tell you how you might trace him, though. He sends his laundry to the Eagle Home Service.”

“Isn’t that across the river?” Nancy inquired.

“Yes, it is-a long distance from here.”

The girls thanked Mrs. Kent for the information, then discussed what they should do.

“Let’s go by ferryboat tomorrow,” Bess suggested, and the others agreed.

On the way home Nancy chose a route past the old apartment building where the pickpocket had nearly been caught.

“You don’t expect him to be here!” Bess gasped.

“It won’t hurt to look,” Nancy replied.

Windows on the lower floor were wide open. As the girls slowly passed one of them, they heard angry voices coming from inside.

“You can’t hide here!” a man shouted.

“Sounds like an argument,” said George.

“You know the police may be watching this place!” the man cried out. “You’re not going to get me into trouble! Clear out!”

“I have a hunch the pickpocket is hiding in there,” Nancy whispered.

The argument grew hotter, but suddenly the window was slammed down and the girls could hear no more.

At once Nancy turned to her friends. “George, you and Bess get a policeman! I’ll go into the apartment house and see what I can find out.”

“Please be careful,” Bess warned her friend.

The instant the girls had gone, Nancy entered the building. The outer lobby was deserted. Finding the inner door unlocked, she went into the hallway.

“I wonder which apartment the men are in,” she mused, tiptoeing down the hallway.

Suddenly a door a little distance away from her opened. A man rushed out, slamming it behind him.

He resembled the pickpocket!

Nancy wanted a closer look at him and gazed about for a place to observe him unnoticed. Near her was a telephone booth. She darted inside.

“If he is the pickpocket, I’ll follow him!” she decided.

Unfortunately the man spotted Nancy and recognized her. Angrily he ran toward her.

“This is the pickpocket,” she concluded. “He saw me and knows I heard what was said!”

Fearful that the man meant to harm her, Nancy slammed shut the glass-paneled door of the booth. To her consternation he took a piece of wood from his pocket and wedged it under the crack.

“There! How do you like that?” the pickpocket sneered. He dashed back to the room, opened the door, and shouted a warning to someone inside. Then he ran from the building.

Meanwhile, Nancy pushed with all her strength against the door, but it would not move. The wedge held fast. She was trapped!

Instinctively she searched her purse for a coin to deposit in the telephone and get help, but had none. Thoroughly alarmed, Nancy pounded on the door, but her cries went unheard.

“Oh dear! That pickpocket will be blocks away before I get out of here!” she thought.

The wedge beneath the door could not be moved, even when she pried at it with a nail file. The bit of steel broke in her hand.

Nancy’s frustration changed to desperation. “I’ll smash the glass with the heel of my shoe!”

Fortunately at that moment Bess and George arrived with a policeman. Nancy’s shouts drew their attention.

“The thief escaped!” she gasped as the officer jerked open the door. “He locked me in here, and then ran out the front door.”

“Front door? Why, when we were up the street,” said George, “we saw a man climb through one of the windows. Officer Kelly chased him, but he had too big a start.”

“That must have been the pickpocket’s pal in the apartment,” Nancy replied, adding, “When the thief warned him about me, he escaped through the window so I couldn’t identify him later.”

“Which door did the fellow you saw come out of?” Officer Kelly asked.

Nancy pointed. “I think it was the third one.”

The officer rapped sharply on it. For several seconds there was no answer. Then the door opened a crack. A woman peered into the halL “What do you want?” she asked, frightened. The policeman walked into the untidy room. “There’s no one here except me,” the woman whined. “Who are you after?”

“A pickpocket who hid in this building.”

“Not in my rooms,” the woman maintained.

“Didn’t someone jump from a window here?”

“No!”

“Do you live alone?” the officer inquired.

“Well, no, I got a husband,” the woman answered. “He has a cousin who sticks around here sometimes when he’s in trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Cordova has a way of gettin’ mixed up in things,” the woman answered with a shrug. “But I ain’t sayin’ it’s dishonest.”

“This man Cordova-” Nancy put in, “he’s about thirty, isn’t he, medium height and walks with short, quick steps?”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” the woman muttered.

Officer Kelly asked a few additional questions before leaving, but he could not get an admission from her that either the husband or the cousin had been there a few minutes before.

“I’ll check up on her,” the policeman promised as he said good-by to Nancy and her friends. “We’ll watch this building and try to catch that pickpocket.”

Shortly afterward, Nancy left Bess and George at the library, then decided to stop at Mr. Faber’s shop. She was nearly there when she met her father.

“Fancy meeting you here!” she said, grinning.

“I’ve been interviewing a client in this neighborhood,” Mr. Drew told her.

“Have you a free moment, Dad?” Nancy asked.

“Sure do. I’m between appointments.” He smiled affectionately.

“Then I have an idea!” Nancy cried, her gaze roving to the creaking business sign which bore Faber’s name. “You must see this shop.” To herself she added, “Maybe I can find out what Dad would like for a birthday present.”

“I’m not going to buy anything!” insisted the lawyer.

Giving Mr. Drew no opportunity to protest further, his daughter steered him inside. Mr. Faber seemed genuinely pleased to meet the lawyer, and at a wink from Nancy immediately asked about his likes and dislikes in art objects.

“Oh, anything goes with me,” Mr. Drew replied pleasantly. “But I’d like to look around.”

The little man beamed. As Mr. Drew moved off to view the collection in the cluttered shop, Mr. Faber whispered to Nancy, “A gentleman’s box would be exactly right for your distinguished-looking father.

“In ancient times a gentleman was known by the personal chest he carried when traveling,” the dealer went on, warming to his subject. “A lady was judged by her jewel box. Jewels always have been a convenient kind of wealth to carry-far easier than money. Rulers forced to flee from their countries in time of war usually saved part of their fortunes that way.”

“And sold them to get money?” Nancy asked.

“Exactly.”

“Speaking of jewels,” said Nancy, “how could Mrs. Alexandra bring so many valuables with her when she fled from her country?”

“Madame is a very clever woman,” the shop owner replied. “She carried a small fortune secreted in a jewel box. It was so unique that it deceived everyone. Her only other possession was the handsome Easter egg case.”

“But I saw so many lovely things in her home,” Nancy declared as her father rejoined them.

“All those treasures were recovered after Mrs. Alexandra reached America. For years I was busy locating her family possessions around the world. She wanted them so badly that she sold many of her jewels to obtain them.”

“How was she able to leave Europe?” Nancy inquired. “Did she wear a disguise when she crossed the border from her country?”

“She dressed as a peasant woman,” Mr. Faber explained. “That was why the soldiers were not suspicious when they examined the Easter egg and the jewel box. They didn’t open them. The men assumed that both objects were copies of real pieces.”

“You say Mrs. Alexandra was able to save a fortune?” Mr. Drew’s curiosity was aroused.

“A small one. She had many jewels, and by selling them one at a time, she has been able to live comfortably.”

Mr. Drew nodded and glanced at his wrist watch. “I must leave now for an appointment,” he said, and left the shop.

Nancy lingered. “Mr. Faber, I hope that someday Mrs. Alexandra will show me her jewel case,” she said wistfully. “I did see the inside of the Easter egg. The singing nightingale is unique.”

“Singing nightingale?” Mr. Faber echoed. “But the little bird does not sing.”

“It sang for us. My friends heard the song too. However, we all thought it did not sound just right.”

“That is very strange,” murmured the shop owner. “When my father made the enameled egg years ago the nightingale did not sing. I shall ask Madame Alexandra about-”

At that moment there was a terrific crash against the front door. The cab of a truck burst into the shop, scattering wood and plaster. Nancy and Mr. Faber leaped to safety!