The Clue in the Jewel Box

CHAPTER V

A LOUD groan came from the street as the truck driver stopped in the doorway. Had he hit someone?

Instantly Nancy hurried to his side. “You hurt?” Nancy asked him.

“I guess not,” the man answered, “but what a mess I’ve made! My steering wheel went out of control.”

Nancy did not wait to hear any more. She climbed over the debris to the street and glanced around to see if anyone had been injured. A woman stood looking at a ruined shopping cart of meats and groceries.

“What I do?” she wailed in broken English. “No more money for food!”

Nancy put an arm around her. “Be glad you weren’t killed,” she said kindly. “And I’m sure the truck driver will give you the money to buy more food and a cart. Come with me.”

When the two climbed into the shop, the truck driver was asking Mr. Faber if he might use the telephone. Quickly Nancy explained the woman’s plight.

“I’m sorry,” the driver said. “I’ll pay for the food and cart.” He took out his wallet and gave her money for the total loss. The woman went off smiling.

Nancy felt she could be of no further use regarding the accident, and told Mr. Faber she would return another time. When she reached home, her thoughts reverted to Mrs. Alexandra and the singing nightingale. She decided to call on her that evening.

After reporting that she had made a little progress in searching for Francis Baum, Nancy tact fully brought up the subject of the bird.

“Oh, I think the little nightingale always has sung,” Mrs. Alexandra answered. “For many years I did not realize this. Then one day I accidentally touched the spring that controls the mechanism.”

“Mr. Faber thinks that his father did not intend the bird to sing.”

“I fear that he is mistaken.”

“Then there’s no mystery connected with it?” Nancy’s voice showed her disappointment.

“Not to my knowledge,” Mrs. Alexandra replied. “In my life there is only one mystery. The mystery of what became of my beloved grandson. Find him for me and my gratitude will be boundless.”

Mrs. Alexandra’s plea stirred Nancy to greater effort in her search for the missing Francis Baum. She set off early the next morning with George and Bess to the town where the Eagle Home Service laundry was located. There she obtained the young man’s new address.

“I hope he’ll be there,” George said excitedly.

A few minutes later the girls arrived at 35 Cornell Avenue, a guest house covered with vines. In response to their knock, a stout woman, whose hands were red and puffy from work, came to the door.

“You want to rent rooms?” she asked abruptly.

“No, we are trying to trace a young man by the name of Francis Baum,” Nancy explained. “I understand he lives here.”

“Yes, he rents a room upstairs,” the landlady said. “But he’s not here now. He had to go away for a few days on business.”

Nancy was disappointed. “I believe I’ll leave a message,” she said. “When Mr. Baum returns tell him that I have a picture for him-one which I think he lost from his wallet. My name is Nancy Drew.

“Please ask him to call me at once in River Heights or come for the photograph.” Nancy wrote her phone number and address on a slip of paper and handed it to the woman.

“I’ll tell him, but whether or not he’ll do it I couldn’t say,” the landlady replied.

Nancy looked questioningly at her.

“Oh, he keeps so much to himself,” the woman said. “It seems funny to me that he always locks his suitcase and takes the key. You can bet that man has something to conceal.”

“Does Mr. Baum have many callers?”

“A man once in a while-never any girl friends,” the landlady replied pointedly.

Behind Nancy’s back, Bess and George giggled. It amused them that the landlady had assumed their friend was romantically interested in Francis Baum.

“Just give Mr. Baum my message, please,” Nancy requested.

Blushing, she turned away, walking ahead of Bess and George, who grinned broadly.

“Now, none of your smart remarks!” Nancy said, trying to forestall any needling by the girls.

“Why, Nancy,” George said in mock reproach, “we didn’t know you were trying to track down a husband of royal blood!”

“Have your fun,” Nancy said cheerfully.

After a leisurely lunch in an attractive restaurant on the riverbank, the girls took the ferryboat back to the opposite shore and returned to their homes. When Nancy reached hers, she found two girls seated in the living room.

“Helen Corning Archer!” Nancy greeted her old friend. “When did you and your husband get back?”

“Only yesterday,” Helen answered, giving Nancy an affectionate hug and kiss, then introduced her companion as Katherine Kovna. “What an exciting trip Jim and I had in Europe!”

“I’d say you visited some of the best dress shops!” Nancy said. “That’s a fantastic suit you’re wearing!”

“Katherine designed and made it for me,” Helen said proudly. “We met in Europe, and I talked her into coming to this country and staying with Jim and me for a while.”

Nancy learned that Helen’s guest hoped to open a fashion shop in town.

“Each time I go any place I’ll wear a dress designed especially for me,” Helen said. “Everyone will ask where I bought it, and I’ll tell them of Katherine’s work. The orders should roll in!”

“You Americans!” The European girl smiled. “You sweep me off the feet!” The others laughed.

“I could use a new dress,” said Nancy, grinning. “Would you make one for me?”

“Katherine can measure you now,” Helen said at once. “As her business manager, I accept the order. We’ll give you a special discount.”

Nancy went to get a tape measure from the sewing basket. Katherine made various notations on a slip of paper, and sketched a few ideas. As Nancy tried to decide which one she liked best, she casually hummed a few bars of the nightingale’s song. The young designer listened attentively.

“That melody!” she murmured. “What is its name?”

“So far as I know, it has none,” Nancy answered. “I’ll try to sing the words, but I don’t know what they mean.” She sang a few syllables.

“They sound like words in my native language,” Katherine announced. “But they make no meaning to me.”

Nancy gazed at the girl with startled eyes. Did the nightingale’s song contain a message?

“Katherine, you’ve given me a wonderful idea!” she exclaimed. “You may be able to help me solve a mystery!”

“I gladly do anything.”

“You’re a dear,” Nancy said, squeezing the other’s hand. “There is someone I want you to meet-Mrs. Marie Alexandra. I’ll ask her if I may take you to see her tomorrow.”

After the two girls had left, Nancy lost no time in telephoning Mrs. Alexandra. The woman graciously assured Nancy that she might bring her friends to tea any afternoon she chose, but asked that her real identity not be revealed.

“I should like to come tomorrow,” Nancy replied and said good-by. As she stood near the phone wondering about the meeting, Mrs. Gruen called:

“Nancy, if you can descend to earth for a moment, I wish you’d go to the soda shop for some ice cream.”

“Glad to,” Nancy replied.

She found so many customers in the store there was a long delay before it was her turn to be waited on.

“I guess Dad will be home by the time I get back,” Nancy thought as she reached the house.

She was right. His car stood in the driveway. As Nancy walked toward the kitchen door, she noticed her father in his study. She was just about to call “Hi” through the open window when she saw a frightening sight.

A man seated in a chair opposite Mr. Drew was pointing a revolver at him!

“You’ll be sorry if you don’t pay my price!” the man was saying to Mr. Drew.

Nancy did not wait a second. Dropping her package, she seized a rock from beneath the window and threw it at the gun. The weapon went spinning from the man’s hand.

In a flash Nancy scrambled through the window, snatched up the gun, and handed it to her father.

“Why, Nancy,” said Mr. Drew, “you-!”

“This man is the pickpocket who stole Francis Baum’s wallet!” she told her father.

Nancy threw a rock at the gun

“No, I’m not,” the man said quickly. “That gun isn’t loaded, and I meant no harm.”

Nancy was unconvinced, even when her father opened the weapon to show it contained no bullets.

“I guess my life wasn’t in danger,” Mr. Drew said, trying to relieve the situation, “but I do appreciate your trying to save me, dear.”

“It’s all a mistake,” the caller insisted. “I came here to meet you, Miss Drew.”

Nancy was bewildered. “But I did see you pointing the revolver directly at my father!”

“I was merely trying to sell the gun to him. It’s a rare one.”

“That’s true,” said Mr. Drew. “He noticed my collection of antique firearms on the wall, and thought I might like to add this one to it.”

“He’s wanted by the police,” Nancy insisted. “Or is it possible,” she said, turning to the caller, “that you’re the man who looks so much like the pickpocket?”

The stranger crossed the room and she noted that he walked with a long stride and not short, quick steps.

“Yes, I am. My name is Dorrance-David Dorrance. You saved me from arrest. I asked the policeman for your name and address and came here to thank you.”

“Nancy, I think you owe Mr. Dorrance an apology,” Mr. Drew said. “I’m afraid this time you’ve made a mistake in your sleuthing.”

“I truly am sorry,” she replied.

“Oh, I can’t blame you for acting as you did,” the caller said, accepting the revolver which Mr. Drew handed him. “I’ve been mistaken for that other fellow several times.”

“He resembles you closely,” Nancy remarked. She tried to memorize Dorrance’s features to avoid any future misunderstanding.

“It’s hard on me having the police and young lady detectives always after me,” Dorrance resumed. “Why, your friends chased me a block, no doubt mistaking me for the pickpocket.”

“Was that when you left an apartment house on Oster Street yesterday?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t been near there since the day my wallet was stolen. The chase was about an hour ago.”

“Why did you run?” Nancy asked.

“I didn’t. It was only after I’d boarded a bus that I realized they were after me.”

Nancy decided that she had been unduly suspicious of him, especially after he explained that he bought and sold antique weapons as a hobby. The revolver she had knocked from his hand had been purchased only a short time before, he said. Nancy recalled having seen a similar one at Mr. Faber’s shop.

“I don’t see how I made such a mistake,” she said in apology. “Is there a way to avoid that happening again?”

“Why not arrange a set of signals?” Dorrance suggested, grinning.

“If I ever mistake you again for the thief, wave a handkerchief,” Nancy said. “Then I’ll know who you are.” The young man agreed.

A moment later he left. Nancy went at once to retrieve the ice cream and placed it in the freezer, then returned to her father.

“What do you think of David Dorrance?” she asked.

“I wasn’t impressed,” the lawyer replied. “However, I must say he took your accusation in a rather sporting way.”

Nancy perched herself on an arm of her father’s chair. “I dislike him,” she said. “I’ll always remember that man pointing a gun at you!”

“I’m as grateful as if you’d actually saved my life, Nancy,” Mr. Drew told her. “Well, here’s Hannah, so dinner is ready. Let’s forget this unpleasant episode,” he added, tucking Nancy’s arm under his own and walking to the dining room with her.

The following afternoon Nancy took Helen Archer and her house guest, Katherine, to call on Mrs. Alexandra. To Nancy’s delight, the girls made a favorable impression. More than that, Katherine soon realized who the woman was, and an animated conversation between the two began at once in a foreign tongue.

“Mrs. Alexandra and I-we are from the same country,” Katherine announced to the girls. “Please excuse-we have much to talk about.”

The other two did not mind being excluded. They were pleased because Katherine was so happy. Nancy pointed out the various art objects in the room to Helen, who was fascinated.

Before they left, Anna, who had served tea, took the gold-encrusted Easter egg from the curio cabinet and pressed the tiny spring. The nightingale sang its strange little song.

Katherine listened attentively, but offered no comment other than polite admiration. When the three girls were on the street, Nancy eagerly asked Katherine if the bird had sung any words in her language.

“He use words of my native tongue, but they are not clear,” the girl answered, frowning.

Katherine paused a moment, then she smiled. “It sound silly, maybe, but the little bird seem to say, ‘clue in jewel box!’ ”