Mystery of the Ivory Charm (13 page)

Mrs. Allison straightened. The look of fear left her face and she became composed.

“I must answer,” Professor Stackpole murmured as the ringing continued.

Nancy realized that the spell was broken and expediently emerged from her “trance.” She had secured the confession she wanted. The professor would serve as a reliable witness against Mrs. Allison at the proper time.

“Well, did my psychic demonstration convince you?” Nancy smiled.

“It did. I—I don’t suppose you remember much of what you said?”

Nancy was not compelled to reply, for Professor Stackpole appeared in the doorway just then.

“The call is for you, Nancy. Your father wishes to speak to you.”

Nancy hurried to the telephone. “What is it, Dad?” she asked.

“I really shouldn’t have bothered you,” the lawyer apologized. “I merely phoned to learn if you’re safe. Since you left I’ve been worried. By the way, Ned was here looking for you.”

“I’m all right, Dad. Everything is going great. Only I can’t take time to tell you about it now. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Nancy cradled the phone and returned to the library. She paused in the doorway to stare in horror. Professor Stackpole lay stretched out on the floor, unconscious. His head was bleeding from a deep wound. Mrs. Allison had disappeared!

“MRS. Allison did this!” Nancy thought as she ran to the professor’s side. “That awful woman was afraid he would reveal to the police what he’d heard!”

Just then the front door bell rang. Instead of going to answer it Nancy called loudly for help.

“Coming!” a masculine voice shouted from the kitchen.

The next moment Ned Nickerson ran into the room, but stopped short as he saw the professor lying on the floor.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Dr. Stackpole is badly hurt,” Nancy cried frantically. “I guess he was struck with this heavy bookend.” She pointed to one that lay nearby. “We must give him first aid!”

She and Ned worked silently over the aged professor, and were relieved that his heartbeat seemed regular, although weak.

“He’ll be all right in a few minutes, I think,” Ned said after a time. “But we need ice or a cold compress.”

“I’ll see if I can find the maid,” Nancy offered.

She went to the kitchen. Neither the cook nor the maid were there, but the refrigerator contained an ample supply of ice cubes. The caller at the front entrance had been forgotten, and he did not ring again.

Nancy was searching for a plastic bag in which to put the ice when she heard a slight noise at the kitchen door.

“Come in!” she called.

The door opened and there was a gasp of surprise. Nancy turned.

“Rishi!” she cried.

The boy laughed in relief and joy. “I ring front bell. Nobody answer.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” Nancy exclaimed, then asked, “Why are you here? Why didn’t you return to my house?”

“Rishi afraid Rai look there for him. Rai in this city now. He trail me like dog.”

“Then you were wise to come here,” Nancy acknowledged. “Rishi, a few minutes ago Dr. Stackpole was injured.”

While she was explaining what had occurred, Ned appeared. He was wondering what had detained Nancy and was greatly startled to see the young boy. With the professor in urgent need of attention, however, there was no time to exchange introductions or to hear Rishi’s full story of who had captured him, how he had escaped from Rai, or where Rai might be found.

“Dr. Stackpole is conscious now,” Ned told Nancy. “But I need the ice.”

They returned with it, followed by Rishi. When they had ministered to the elderly tutor, they were able to lift him to a couch.

After a time the man’s strength returned and he gazed about the room, trying to locate objects and persons. Rishi stood gazing sorrowfully at his stricken tutor.

“Is it really you—Rishi?” the injured professor asked in a barely audible voice.

“Yes, yes,” the boy said eagerly. “It is me, Rishi. I mean—it is I,” he stammered, trying to use the correct grammar the man had taught him recently.

“I shall always be proud that I served as your tutor,” Professor Stackpole said in a half whisper. “The lost son of a maharaja!” he murmured weakly.

Rishi stared at Nancy in bewilderment as if expecting her to offer an explanation for the man’s strange words.

“It is true,” she told him. “We have evidence that proves you were kidnapped from your own country by persons who had great political influence and made lama Togara both governor and a maharaja. Your mother died of a broken heart when she received word that a tiger had killed you. Your father left the country.”

For a long moment Rishi did not speak. But tears of joy trickled down his brown cheeks as he eyed Nancy with a worshipful gaze.

“Rishi very happy boy now. Thank you, Nancy, for find out truth.”

Professor Stackpole slowly rose from the couch. “If you will excuse me, I shall retire to my room. My head aches severely.”

“Shouldn’t we call a physician?” Nancy inquired anxiously.

“No, no, I will be quite all right after I have slept.” The man moved toward the door and then paused. “Rishi must remain with me until Rai and Mrs. Allison are apprehended. He will be safer with me.”

“Yes,” Nancy admitted. “I doubt that they would think of searching for him here.”

“I will ask the maid to prepare a room for Rishi at once,” Dr. Stackpole said. He bowed to both Nancy and Ned. “You must forgive me for deserting you in this manner. I am very tired and not myself.”

After the tutor had gone to his room, Nancy and Ned told Rishi the details of Mrs. Allison’s plot against him. The boy in turn described Rai’s cruelty toward him during the boy’s captivity.

“He keep me in small room. When he go away even for one hour, he bind me to chair so I no run away again. Rishi not have enough to eat. Every night he beat me for go to Nancy. Say take me far away. Be in new animal show. Today I work and untie ropes and run away.”

“Good for you!” Ned told him with a grin. Nancy said sympathetically, “You’ve had a bitter experience, Rishi. But I’m sure you’ll be safe as long as you remain with Dr. Stackpole.”

“Rishi stay very close in house.” The boy smiled. “Never go outside again until Rai is capture.”

Nancy rose to leave. It occurred to her to ask Rishi if during his period of captivity he had observed Rai wearing the missing ivory charm.

Rishi shook his head. “Never see it.”

“I’d give a great deal to get hold of that lucky piece,” Nancy remarked. “Somehow I can’t help but feel that the story is true, and the charm guards a strange secret.”

“Rai often say same thing,” Rishi said gravely. “Once he say charm have power of life or death.”

“That was a queer remark,” Nancy mused. “I wonder—”

She left the thought unexpressed, and after bidding Rishi good-by, departed with Ned and spent the rest of the evening with him.

The next morning Nancy slept a little later than usual. She had just finished dressing when Hannah called up the stairway that Nancy was wanted on the telephone.

“I think it’s Dr. Stackpole,” the housekeeper said. “He seems greatly excited.”

Nancy had an extension on a table alongside her bed and picked it up.

“Hello. This is Nancy.”

“I have distressing news for you,” the professor told her in a strained, tense voice. “During the night Rishi disappeared from my home!”

“Kidnapped?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t know. I blame myself, Nancy. I should have watched the boy more carefully.”

“This is dreadful!” Nancy cried. “I’ll talk to my father about it.”

She put down the phone and flew to the dining room, where Mr. Drew was eating breakfast. In terse sentences she revealed what had occurred.

“The case has gone far enough,” the lawyer responded grimly. “It calls for drastic action.” He jumped from his chair.

“Shall we notify the police?” Nancy suggested.

“We’ll do more than that. I’ll call the FBI.”

Within minutes Mr. Drew was in touch with a friend in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He returned to Nancy who in the meantime was thinking along totally different lines.

“Dad,” she said, “this is about the time when the importer from India is supposed to return to River Heights. Do you think Rishi has gone there to see Mr. Tilak?”

MR. Drew looked at his daughter, startled. “Nancy, you may have guessed the answer. Call the house at once.”

Nancy did so. A woman answered the phone and said she was expecting her employer within the hour.

“Is a boy there waiting for him?” Nancy asked.

“No. No boy is here.”

“Thank you,” Nancy said and hung up. She hurried back to her father and told him what she had learned. “Dad, I want to go over there anyway and meet that man. Will you come along?”

“Glad to. I want to hear his story and see if it jibes with that of Mrs. Allison.”

Twenty minutes later the two set off. When they rang the bell of Mr. Tilak’s home, a woman answered and said he had returned.

“I’m Mr. Drew and this is my daughter Nancy,” the lawyer said. “We live here in River Heights and would like to speak with your employer.”

“Step inside,” the woman said. “I’ll tell him. Please sit down.”

As she disappeared up the stairway, the Drews had an opportunity to glance around. The furnishings were beautiful and all of them apparently from India.

“It looks like a museum,” Nancy whispered. “What gorgeous ivory figurines and rugs!”

In a few moments Mr. Tilak came down the stairs. His resemblance to Rishi was so startling there was no doubt in the Drews’ minds that he was the boy’s real father.

After greeting his visitors, he asked, “You wish to speak with me?”

Mr. Drew nodded and said, “Nancy will tell you.”

“I hardly know how to begin,” she admitted but decided to plunge directly into the story. “When your Rishi was a baby, you were told he had been killed by a tiger. This was not true. He was kidnapped!”

As she paused, Mr. Tilak leaned forward in his chair and gripped the sides. “Yes. Go on.”

“Did you ever hear of a man named Rai?”

“No.”

“Or a Mrs. Allison?”

“No.”

Mr. Drew spoke up. “They are the culprits and also are guilty of starting a revolution in the community over which you held so much influence. You were driven from your country so that lama Togara could take your place. The wealth stolen from your estate was then used to elect him as governor of your province. Nancy found secret papers to prove this.”

The former maharaja jumped from his chair. “Is my son alive?” he asked.

“We hope so,” Nancy replied, then revealed what had happened to Rishi and how the Drews had become involved in the case.

Mr. Tilak was speechless with surprise and dismay. Nancy’s father told him the local police and the FBI were hunting for Rishi, Rai, and Mrs. Allison.

“We should have some word soon,” he assured the boy’s father, as the Drews rose to leave. “Mr. Tilak, we’ll let you know the instant we hear anything about Rishi.”

Before Nancy said good-by, she looked at Rishi’s handsome but sad-looking father. “I would like to tell you about a remark Rishi made. He said if he ever found you, he was to say
‘Manohar’
to you.”

The man gave an exclamation in Hindi, then apologized and said in English, “If I needed any proof you do know my son, this is it.
Manohar
was the name of the manager of my estate when I was a maharaja. He was killed during the revolution.”

Mr. Tilak shook hands with the Drews and thanked them profusely. Then they left.

The lawyer told Nancy he would go directly to his office, phone the bank, and instruct them not to let Mrs. Allison take the contents of the safe deposit box. Instead they were to notify the police and hold her until they came.

Nancy drove into town with him, said good-by, and set off for home on foot. All day long she restlessly waited for news but none came. Toward evening she decided to walk downtown and meet her father.

“I’ll go by way of the park,” she thought, turning into it.

Her mind had reverted to Mrs. Allison. If she is around River Heights, what an ideal secluded spot it is. It could remind her of her burned house. And what an auspicious place to go into a trance!

After a moment the young detective smiled. “It would probably be a little used section of this park. I know the very place!”

Nancy headed for a densely wooded area. An old wooden footbridge crossed a deep, rushing stream. She paused, startled.

Not twenty feet away, the figure of a woman loomed up. She wore a white turban, and the wind whipped her flowing robes about her wildly. As Nancy watched, the strange person approached the bridge railing. She stood there transfixed, gazing down intently into the angry water.