(#28) The Clue of the Black Keys (6 page)

“She says she can’t run the risk of losing it,” Terry replied.

“I wonder if that’s the real reason,” Nancy mused. “And by the way, you haven’t told me what Mrs. Wangell’s diary has to do with the mystery of the black keys.”

“From skimming through it, I gather it is full of unpublished legends which I suspect may have some bearing on our case.”

“How?”

“Mrs. Wangell’s sea-captain grandfather retired in Florida, but he’d picked up stories everywhere, especially in Mexico.”

“I see why you want to read the diary.” Nancy smiled. “But I still don’t like your dealing with the Wangells. Promise you won’t stay there. How about going to a small hotel tonight and sending for your baggage so no one will know where you are?”

“I’d like to please you,” Terry replied, “and be safe besides.” He grinned. “I’ll go to the Parkview and ask a porter to take my things over there. Ever since that attack, I’ve kept everything locked in my bags, so the move will be easy.”

“I believe we ought to check the story of Mrs. Wangell’s grandfather being a sea captain, and the valuable diary belonging to him,” Nancy said.

Terry lifted his eyebrows. “I never thought of that. It’s a good idea.”

Nancy and Terry went to the recreation room and Nancy thanked the Faynes for dinner. “I’m sorry I haven’t been the least bit sociable since dinner. And now you’ll think me rude, but would you mind terribly if Terry and I go? I want to stop at Mrs. Prescott’s on the way home.”

George groaned. “Hypers, Nancy, don’t you ever take time out from a mystery?”

Nancy shook her head laughingly as she and Terry said good-by.

While driving to Mrs. Prescott’s, Nancy explained that the woman’s business was tracing family trees.

“She has studied the history of every family in this area, and is president of the local historical society. She has stacks of records.”

Mrs. Prescott was at home and welcomed her two guests at once into the library. She seemed delighted to have Nancy ask a question on her favorite subject.

“Mrs. Wangell? Let me see,” she mused, squeezing her pince-nez onto her nose. “She was Lillian Webster before she married.”

The woman’s eyes studied the shelves. “This will take a little while, my dear. Do you mind waiting?”

“Not at all,” Nancy replied.

At last Mrs. Prescott turned away from her books and records, and took off her glasses.

“I have checked both of Mrs. Wangell’s grand-fathers,” she said, “and neither of them was a sea captain.”

Nancy and Terry pretended surprise.

“It’s all in the record,” Mrs. Prescott insisted. “Neither of them followed the sea at any time.”

“I guess I have the story confused,” Nancy murmured.

She thanked Mrs. Prescott for her help and hurried out to the car with Terry.

“You see, Mrs. Wangell isn’t to be trusted,” Nancy said. “I think you should insist upon taking that diary to the hotel and translating it before she becomes suspicious and changes her mind.”

“She’ll never agree to my taking it,” Terry objected.

Nancy thought a moment. Suddenly she remembered a small camera her father had presented her on her latest birthday. She kept it in the glove compartment of the car. Now she took it out and gave it to Terry.

“Put this in your pocket and take it to the Wangells’ tomorrow. The camera’s loaded with self-developing film. Ask to borrow the diary, and if Mrs. Wangell refuses, take pictures of the pages you think may be especially important.”

Terry promised to do as she suggested. Then, making sure they were not being followed, Nancy drove him to his new hotel, the Parkview.

“Sure you’ll be all right?” he asked. “I hate to think of your spending the night in that big house without your father.”

“Nonsense! I’m not the least bit worried,” Nancy said with a laugh.

Though Nancy was not alarmed over the situation, it was quite apparent, when she reached home, that Hannah Gruen was. The faithful housekeeper was waiting at the front door.

“Thank goodness you’re back!” she exclaimed.

Nancy put an affectionate hand on the woman’s shoulder. “You’re a lamb to be so concerned. But here I am, safe and sound. And maybe tomorrow Dad will come home.”

Nancy went up to her room, undressed, and slid into bed. As she dropped off to sleep, she could hear Hannah still busy in the kitchen. “What a clatter!” Nancy thought in amusement.

When she awoke, it was in bewildered alarm. Somewhere in the darkened house there was loud banging and jangling. Simultaneously, something crashed heavily and there was the thud of footsteps.

Springing out of bed, Nancy pulled on a robe and rushed into the hall. There was no further sound. The entire house was in darkness.

Her first thought was of Hannah Gruen. She stepped quickly into the housekeeper’s bedroom and flicked on the light. The room was empty, the bed not turned down.

Suddenly Nancy heard a moan from the floor below. She dashed to the head of the stairs and turned on the lower hall light.

Close to the front door lay Hannah Gruen!

CHAPTER VIII

A Lesson in Sleuthing

NEAR Mrs. Gruen’s right hand was a rolling pin. Evidently she had dropped it. Stretched across the hall between chairs was a homemade burglar alarm—clothesline strung with tin pans and kitchen utensils. Nancy ran down the stairs.

“Hannah!” she cried, bending over the housekeeper. “What happened?”

The dazed woman opened her eyes and whispered, “Get him! Get him!”

Nancy looked out the hall window but saw no one. She helped the housekeeper to a sofa, then raced through the first floor, peering into closets and behind doors. There was no sign of any disturbance except in the hall. Evidently the burglar alarm had scared off the intruder.

Nancy notified the police. Then she hurried back to Hannah.

“Shall I call a doctor?” she asked anxiously.

The woman shook her head. “All I’ve got are bruises—and a bump on my head.”

“Did he hit you with something?”

“No. I heard him trying to open the front door lock, so I waited in the dark. I thought if he got in, he’d run into that line, and I’d nab him. But I wasn’t quick enough. When he hit those pans, one of them caught me on the head and dazed me a bit. That’s why I didn’t see where he went.”

Nancy brought a washcloth wrung out in ice water and bathed Mrs. Gruen’s swollen forehead.

“My, that feels good,” the housekeeper said.

Nancy asked why the strange burglar alarm had been put up.

“I had an idea someone might visit us,” the woman confessed. “I rigged an alarm at each door and window on the first floor.”

Nancy slipped into the hall to remove Hannah’s alarm system. Her eye caught a small sheet of paper lying just inside the front door and she picked it up. Printed boldly in pencil was a warning message. It read:

NO MORE INTERFERENCE OR THERE WILL BE TROUBLE FOR YOU

“What are you doing?” Hannah asked.

Nancy returned to the living room and read the message aloud. She remarked that the note might have been written by Juarez Tino. Not wishing to alarm the housekeeper, however, she added quickly, “It may not be for you or me. Dad makes enemies in his legal work, you know. Some crank could have written it.”

Hannah started to speak, but Nancy patted her arm and continued, “You were a darling—and brave, too—to rig up that burglar alarm and lie in wait. You almost caught him!”

Just then the shriek of brakes and tramping footsteps told her that the police had arrived. Nancy ushered Sergeant Malloy and two of his men into the hall, explaining what had happened. She showed them the note.

While the police busied themselves taking footprints and fingerprints, Nancy decided to look outside. Taking her pocket flashlight, she went to the porch and peered over the railing.

The beam of her light revealed two slips of paper caught in a barberry bush. Undoubtedly the intruder had dropped them. Excitedly Nancy examined them. One contained the number 74772. On the other was printed “5 x 7 and one.”

Nancy returned to the hall and copied the notations, then handed the slips to the police.

“I’ll work on them. They’re a good clue,” Sergeant Malloy said.

When the officers had concluded their investigation, the sergeant told Nancy and Hannah he would send a plainclothesman to watch the house.

After the police left, Hannah and Nancy returned to bed for a few more hours of sleep. The following morning Nancy was awakened by the ringing of the telephone. She was delighted when she recognized the deep voice of her father.

“How’s everything?” he asked.

When Nancy told him what had happened during the night, Carson Drew expressed concern.

“My plane will get in this afternoon,” he said. “In the meantime, I advise you not to go out of the house alone. And look after Hannah. That experience must have been a severe shock to her.”

Nancy promised to do as he suggested, and as soon as she had dressed, insisted upon preparing breakfast alone.

Hannah protested at first, but at last gratefully sat down to read the morning paper. After eating, Nancy tidied the dining room and kitchen. She was just putting away the last plate when Bess Marvin popped into the kitchen.

“I can’t believe my eyes! You in that apron—and Hannah sitting on the sun porch reading at nine o’clock in the morning!”

Nancy grinned. “Did she tell you about the excitement last night?”

“Yes,” Bess said. “And you know what I think? You ought to have a bodyguard.”

Leading her friend to a window, Nancy pointed out a slender man in a gray suit and a soft hat walking near the driveway entrance.

“One of the plainclothesmen the police sent. It makes me feel very important.”

Bess giggled. “As if you were an heiress with a pile of diamonds in your bureau drawer.”

“It’s a black key, instead,” Nancy countered. “And only half of one, at that.”

“When’s your dad coming home?” Bess asked. When she heard he would arrive that afternoon, she added, “That’s good news. You should celebrate. I’ll help you get dinner. Let me make a pie.”

Shortly before noon Bess was in the kitchen beating up the meringue for a mountainous lemon pie. Nancy was seated on a stool beside her, but she was not watching the pie making. She was studying the mysterious numbers she had found in the shrubbery the night before.

The “5 x 7 and one” completely stymied her. It suggested nothing at all. The 74772 was easier. The 7 she thought, might be a River Heights telephone exchange. Whose number could 4772 be?

Suddenly she had an idea. With an excited gasp, Nancy jumped off the stool and rushed into the hall. Quickly she thumbed through the River Heights telephone directory to the W’s.

Her hunch was correct. River Heights 7-4772 was listed as the Wangells’ number! She rushed back to the kitchen and told Bess.

“How on earth did you figure that out?” the plump girl gasped.

Nancy said she had wondered ever since hearing about the diary why Mrs. Wangell had picked Terry to translate it. The whole thing was clear now.

“There’s some connection between the Wangells and at least one of Terry’s enemies,” Nancy explained.

“The one who came here last night and dropped the pieces of paper!” Bess exclaimed. “Oh, Nancy, this is awful!”

“I must warn Terry,” Nancy said. “I hope he’s at the Parkview.”

Her heart was pounding excitedly as she telephoned the hotel.

“I was just going to call you, Nancy,” Terry said. “I worked all morning on Mrs. Wangell’s diary, and ...”

“Then she let you borrow it?”

“No, but I took some pictures with your camera. The black keys we found in Mexico are mentioned in the diary!”

Nancy was so surprised at Terry’s news that she forgot to mention her own discovery.

“I want to see the pictures,” she cried. “Bess and I are having lunch here in half an hour. Will you join us?”

Terry thought this a splendid idea. Nancy asked him to try covering his tracks so his enemies would not know where he was going. Half an hour later he arrived.

Lunch was a merry affair, but directly afterward Nancy talked to him seriously about the scraps of paper she had found. Terry could make nothing of the “5 x 7 and one” notation.

“So your would-be burglar had the Wangells’ number.” The young professor whistled. “I can’t stop going there now,” he continued. “I’m just beginning to get some valuable facts from the diary. Wait until you see what I brought.”

He opened a briefcase and laid several photographs and carbon copies of notes on the table.

“At your suggestion, Nancy,” he said, “I left my notes with the diary. Mrs. Wangell doesn’t know I have these copies.”

“Good.”

Terry said that most of the diary was a puzzle to him.

Nancy picked up several of the pictures and studied them. “Will you leave them with me for a while?” she asked. “Perhaps I can find the answer.”

“I’d certainly like to have you try,” Terry replied. “But here’s one I did figure out,” he said, handing it over.

The photograph was of page seventy-six in the diary. The upper half of the sheet was covered by handwriting. On the lower part was the rough drawing of a key. Nancy read the strange text:

“In this sodden wilderness I met a curious character, a Swamp Indian. He told me of the hiding place of Treasure, and of three Black Keys that would unlock the Secret of the Ages.”

Nancy could not make out the next sentence. It seemed to be in a foreign language. When she asked Terry about it, he said it was in Indian dialect. When translated, it meant:

“If Fortune be kind, the Sun and Raindrop keys will help me find this secret myself.”

Underneath the text was the faded outline of a key. Examining it carefully, Nancy could see a design on the stem. One of the symbols in the design looked like the sun. The other could symbolize rain.

“I’ll get your half-key, Terry, and we’ll compare them.”

Nancy got the key and placed it beside the one in the photograph. The lower half of the one in the picture and the relic Terry had brought from Mexico were identical!