(#16) The Clue of the Tapping Heels (11 page)

“Never mind,” Nancy whispered to the guard. “I’m sure I haven’t seen this man before, either here or in Berryville. How about you, Hannah?”

The Drews’ housekeeper shook her head. She and Nancy were ushered back to the main room and told Sergeant Scott that they could not identify the suspect.

“What name did he give you?” Nancy asked.

“He refused to give any,” the sergeant replied. “He was picked up tonight trying to rob a jewelry store. Chief McGinnis told us you’re looking for a pudgy suspect, so I thought this man might be the one.”

“I don’t believe so,” Nancy said, “but you might try a trick on him. The one we’re looking for knows Morse code. If you could have someone casually tap out words on a telegrapher’s key and make a mistake while the prisoner is listening, he might involuntarily speak up and give himself away.”

“Thanks for the tip,” the sergeant said. “We’ll try it. If we have any luck, I’ll let you know.”

Nancy and Mrs. Gruen went home. Mr. Drew was still up, waiting to tell them what he had learned that day about the case. First, the lawyer listened eagerly to his daughter’s story, then said he had some news of his own for her.

“Toby Simpson was a great help to me and came up with some good leads. He learned that Mr. and Mrs. Woonton, although they had lived in St. Louis, had passed away in Chicago.

“After calling two of my lawyer friends there,” Mr. Drew went on, “I found out that an administrator had been appointed for their son Gus. And guess what the administrator’s name is?”

“I can’t imagine,” Nancy replied. “Who is it? Man or woman?”

“A man named W. F. Bunce.”

Nancy was startled and leaned forward eagerly. “You mean he might be the Mr. Bunce who lives next door to Miss Carter?”

“He could be,” the lawyer answered, “but let’s not jump to conclusions. At the time he was appointed administrator W. F. Bunce lived in St. Louis.

“After I’d made several more phone calls, it seemed evident that he had moved away from there sometime ago. No W. F. Bunce was listed in the St. Louis telephone directory nor did he have an unlisted number. And the post office had no forwarding address.”

“How did you find out he had been appointed administrator?” Nancy queried.

“William Woonton’s will was probated in Chicago. W. F. Bunce was left in total charge of the estate. He was both executor and administrator. You know I don’t like to be suspicious, but when I learned that payments to the Beverly stopped at the time of the Woontons’ deaths—they were killed in an automobile accident-I began to wonder about this W. F. Bunce.”

Nancy was excited by the latest clue and eager to pursue it. Her father said he must be at his office early the next morning and would leave the follow-up to her. First she looked in the phone book covering Berryville. No W. F. Bunce was listed; only Frederick Bunce.

The idea of a ruse to trap him popped into Nancy’s mind. She said to Mrs. Gruen, “Will you do me a big favor, Hannah?” Nancy glanced at her wrist watch. “It’s only eleven o‘clock. Will you please telephone Fred Bunce’s house and ask if it is the residence of W. F. Bunce.”

“Suppose the person who answers says yes,” Hannah remarked. “Then what do I do?”

“Say that someone will bring an important message to Mr. Bunce tomorrow morning.”

Mrs. Gruen was a bit nervous about making the call, but she dialed the number and waited.

Mrs. Bunce answered the phone. “Hello?”

Hannah Gruen spoke in as deep a voice as she could and asked, “Is this the residence of W. F. Bunce?”

There was a startled cry from the other end of the wire, then Mrs. Bunce said, “Uh—no. You have the wrong number.” She hung up.

“Ah-ha!” said the housekeeper. “Nancy, I think you’ve hit upon something important. Do you suppose Fred Bunce really is the W. F. Bunce you’re looking for?”

Nancy thought this quite possible. The question was, Why had he moved next door to the Woontons’ former residence? Could he be the person who was entering mysteriously and hunting for some hidden treasures?

The housekeeper sighed. “This thing is getting so mixed up I can’t make head nor tail of who’s who or what’s what. When is it ever going to be straightened out?”

“I feel the same way,” Nancy agreed. “I can’t wait to follow up this new lead.”

Before Nancy started off for Miss Carter’s the next day, Mrs. Gruen said, “Do be careful. Put up the top of your convertible and lock yourself in.”

“All right and don’t worry. I hope the next time I talk to you, I can report that the mystery’s solved.”

Nancy packed a few extra clothes, then kissed Hannah good-by and drove to Berryville. Bess and George were waiting in the driveway when she reached Miss Carter’s house.

“Hi, girls!” Nancy called out. “I’m surprised that you’re still up. You should be getting some sleep. Tell me, did anything happen last night?”

“Not a thing,” Bess replied. “No cat thief, no tapper, nobody sneaking around.”

“The only thing interesting,” George put in, “were the lights in the Bunces’s house.”

“What do you mean?”

George said she doubted that the Bunces went to bed at all. “Lights were popping on and off in various rooms most of the night. I wonder what they were doing.”

Nancy told about her latest lead in the mystery which concerned a W. F. Bunce, whom she suspected might be Fred Bunce. The other girls were amazed.

“What are you going to do about it?” Bess asked her.

“You say the couple was up during the night?” Nancy replied with a faraway look. “Well, maybe they’re asleep now. All the shades on this side of the house are drawn.”

George told her that the shades had been drawn throughout the house. “A couple of times I went out of the garage and walked around for exercise. I noticed that every shade in the place was down.”

Nancy wondered how long to wait before going next door to learn what she could about the couple. It was now nine forty-five.

“I think ten o‘clock is late enough,” she decided.

Fifteen minutes later the girls knocked on the rear door. There was no response. They tried the front doorbell. The Bunces did not answer this, either.

Nancy used the door knocker. It resounded loudly. Still no one appeared.

“Do you suppose they’re still asleep with all this racket?” Bess asked.

Nancy shrugged. “George, would you go back to Miss Carter’s and phone the Bunces? That should wake them up.”

George hurried inside but returned in a few minutes, saying there had been no response.

“Maybe the couple has gone out,” Nancy said. “I’ll look in their garage.”

The doors were closed but she peered through a window. There was no car inside.

It occurred to Nancy that possibly Hannah Gruen’s telephone call to the Bunces the night before had frightened them and they had left. At that moment a neighbor on the other side of the house came out.

“Are you looking for Mr. and Mrs. Bunce?” she asked.

“Yes,” Nancy replied. “We’re staying with Miss Carter and wanted to speak to them.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s impossible,” the neighbor said. “About six o‘clock this morning a truck came here. The driver loaded it with a lot of boxes and bags. The Bunces followed in their car.”

“By any chance do you know the license number of the Bunces’s car?” Nancy asked the woman.

“Funny you should ask that and I can say yes. I remember it because the letters in it happen to be my initials and the numbers are the reverse of those on my car.” She gave the full license number.

“Thank you very much,” Nancy said. “And now please excuse me. I must hurry inside and make a phone call.”

She dashed into the house and dialed her father. “Oh, Dad, we’ve missed again!” she said woefully. “But here’s the Bunces’s license number. Perhaps you can check to whom it was issued and maybe the police can stop the car before it disappears.”

Mr. Drew said he would check the name of the owner. As for stopping the couple on the road, he had no right to ask this.

“We have no concrete evidence against Mr. Bunce, nothing but suspicions,” he reminded his daughter. “But I’ll let you know what I find out.”

When Nancy finished talking, Bess asked, “Do you mind if I use your car? I have some errands to do downtown. Marketing—and I must buy more cat food for the pets.”

“Go ahead,” Nancy replied.

Nancy went upstairs to say good morning to Miss Carter and brief her on the latest event. The actress was astonished at the news.

“Well, if Bunce was the tapper,” she said, “then we won’t hear him again. Maybe it’s just as well that he’s gone. He hated my cats, anyway.”

A few minutes later George joined them and the two girls went to dust their rooms. Nancy stopped to talk to her friend while George made her bed.

“Listen!” she said suddenly.

This time the strange sound was not tapping. It was more like a weird plaintive wail.

Both girls stood still. Nancy pointed upward and whispered, “Something or somebody is in the attic!”

The girls tiptoed to the door of the third-floor stairway. It was open a few inches. They paused a moment, then started up the steps. Wondering what they would find, the girls stood at the top of the stairs and stared ahead.

The queer sounds were coming from inside the wooden mummy case, which was wobbling back and forth!

CHAPTER XVI

Telltale Handprints

WITH cautious steps Nancy and George approached the wobbling mummy case. It was locked on the outside.

The wailing within had now intensified. Had a person been imprisoned? Yet the sounds did not seem human.

Taking a long breath, Nancy opened the latch on the mummy case. A wild-eyed Persian cat leaped out!

“Oh!” the girls exclaimed.

Then Nancy and George began to laugh. George said, “Boy, I’m something! I can’t tell the difference between a cat and a ghost!”

Apparently the cat had been imprisoned for some time and refused to quiet down. Even though Nancy held out a friendly hand, the Persian would not come near her.

“How in the world did it get up here?” George asked. “Somebody must have deliberately locked it in the mummy case. But who?”

“It’s a good thing that case isn’t airtight,” Nancy said.

“Do you suppose,” George asked, “the tapper put the cat in there for spite?”

Nancy shook her head. “I’m sure he has nothing against Miss Carter or the cat. Possibly he has stolen some, but I think his main objective in coming here is to find valuable objects hidden in this house.”

George wondered if Mr. and Mrs. Woonton, having such an unpredictable son, had secreted some of their valuables. “Gus may have figured his parents forgot to take them along when they moved, and he is now trying to locate the pieces and perhaps sell them. Or does he know his parents are dead and he has come to get the articles?”

“It’s a good hunch,” Nancy replied. “Here’s another idea. Remember the threat in Gus’s diary of getting square with his guardians? Maybe he managed to get out of the secret room at times and hid the articles to make the guardians seem like thieves. And now he’s back to collect them.”

All this time she had been coaxing the cat to come toward her. Finally it walked to where she was standing. Nancy picked up the Persian and the two girls went back to the second floor. When Miss Carter heard the story, she gasped.

“Every day this mystery becomes more of a puzzle,” she said. “You girls are doing a good job, but I wish that the unwanted stranger would stop coming into the house.” She took the cat on her lap. “You poor tabby,” she said. “You might have been smothered. Oh, there are such wicked people in this world!”

Just then Mrs. Bealing appeared in the doorway. She had heard only part of the conversation and wanted to know what had happened. When Nancy explained, a look of dismay spread over the nurse’s face.

“I’m afraid that I locked the cat inside the mummy case,” she said. “I went upstairs to get some rags. The case was open so I locked it.” She gave a great sigh. “Oh, I never would have forgiven myself if this beautiful animal had died because of me.”

Miss Carter spoke up quickly. “How were you to know? What I want to find out is who brought the cat into the house.”

No one had an answer. While they were still discussing the incident, Bess came into the driveway. She deposited her packages on the kitchen counter and went upstairs.

When she reached the second floor, Mrs. Bealing burst out with the story of the cat in the mummy case. “I’d certainly like to know who brought that Persian into the house!”

Bess was aghast and hung her head. “I did,” she said. “The poor thing didn’t seem very well, so I took it to my room. You were asleep, so I decided to tell you later. I guess the cat went up to the third floor by itself.”

Miss Carter was relieved. “Such a simple explanation for what started out to be a big mystery,” she remarked.

Bess said, “I stopped at the pet shop downtown and asked the man what to do for a sick cat. He gave me this special food.” She held up the package.

By now the cat had gone into a deep sleep on Miss Carter’s lap. For a moment everyone wondered if perhaps the Persian had been drugged like the others. But when the actress roused the cat, it stretched, yawned, then jumped from her lap.

“It seems to be all right,” she remarked. “But go ahead and give my pet some of the special food you bought, Bess.”

As Miss Carter watched the Persian daintily eating the tidbits, she said that the mummy case had been used in the play
The Dancer and the Fool.

“I wonder if Toby Simpson might like to use it in his revival of the play. I think I’ll phone him later today.”

Just then the phone rang. Mr. Drew was calling Nancy. “I have some further information for you,” he said. “It’s rather startling.”

“What is it?” Nancy asked quickly.

The lawyer said that something he had learned only complicated the case. “The license for the Bunces’s car was issued in Pleasantville to a Gus Woonton.”

“What!” Nancy exclaimed. “Dad, do you think that the Bunces and Gus Woonton are together?”

“Either that, or Bunce is using Woonton’s name.”