“I not know. I go to pay store rent.”
“A lucky coincidence for me,” Nancy said.
Mr. Anthony wrapped the slippers. As the girls were about to go out the front door, the strange, wizened man who had been there before came in. Recognizing Nancy, he began to laugh noisily in a high-pitched voice. Bess and George looked at each other, then at Nancy who remained calm.
“You found that mannequin yet?” the old man asked.
Without waiting for an answer, he went over to his usual seat, hopped up, crossed his legs and began rocking back and forth, all the while laughing uproariously.
“You want mannequin?” he said. “Ha-ha-ha!”
The girls waited to see if he would say anything more. When he made no further statement, they left the shop.
Out on the sidewalk, George remarked, “He sure is a nut!”
“I guess so,” Bess agreed, “but you know the old fellow just might know something. He acts like somebody who has a secret and is enjoying keeping it from everyone else.”
Nancy was thoughtful. “If you’re right, Bess, I certainly must talk to him again.”
George grinned. “I wish you luck. He doesn’t strike me as a person who’s going to answer a single question you ask him.”
After Nancy had dropped the cousins at their houses, she thought about the day’s findings. It had been a pretty profitable day and Nancy could hardly wait to tell her father and Hannah Gruen what she had learned.
Neither of them was home and Nancy decided to wash her hair and take a bath while waiting for them. On her way upstairs, the telephone rang.
“This is Mr. Simpson,” the caller said. “I’m the father of the little boy who might have drowned today if it hadn’t been for your quick action.”
“I’m so happy I got to him in time,” Nancy said. “How is your son?”
Mr. Simpson assured her that he was all right and inquired about how Nancy and George were.
“We’re fine,” Nancy reported. “And thank you very much for paying for our lunches. It certainly was very kind.”
“That’s the least I could do,” Mr. Simpson remarked. “If I can ever be of any help to you, don’t hesitate to call on me.”
He said he owned a travel bureau in Compton, and was calling from his office.
Instantly an idea came to Nancy. “It’s just possible you can help me right now. By any chance, did you ever sell a ticket to a Mr. Farouk Tahmasp?”
“The name sounds familiar,” Mr. Simpson replied. “Hold the wire a minute. I’ll look in my records.”
When the travel agent returned to the phone, he said, “Yes, I did sell a ticket to a man by that name two years ago. The address was a rug shop in your town. He went from here to Canada.”
“Canada!” Nancy repeated. “Have you any idea if he might be living there now?”
“Oh, I think not,” Mr. Simpson said. “His ticket went on to Paris.”
“But you have no idea if he went farther?” Nancy queried.
“No, I’m sorry. I gather you’re trying to find this Farouk Tahmasp. If I ever hear from him again, I’ll let you know.”
Nancy told him that she suspected the man was now in Turkey, probably Istanbul.
There was a long pause, then Mr. Simpson said, “If you suspect that, and you really want to find him, you might be interested in a trip which my agency is planning to Turkey. It will leave in a few days. My assistant, Mr. Randolph, will guide it.”
The suggestion excited Nancy.
“I’d love to go if it seems feasible,” she said slowly. “I’ll have to let you know. How much time do I have?”
“Suppose I mail you a copy of our itinerary. It promises to be a fascinating trip,” replied Mr. Simpson. “But the tour flies out four days from now so you don’t have much time to decide.”
The man’s voice seemed far away as Nancy recalled the thrilling tales she had read of the exotic country. Here, unbelievably, was not only her chance to visit it but also to trace the mysterious sender of the prayer rug!
“Miss Drew, are you there?” Mr. Simpson said after a few moments of silence.
“Oh yes,” Nancy answered. “I’m sorry. My mind is, I’m afraid, already in Istanbul.”
“Then you should make the trip,” was the good-natured reply.
Nancy laughed and said she would first have to discuss it with her father. She wrote down the address and telephone number of the travel agency, then hung up.
As she showered and washed her hair, Nancy’s imagination took her to the Middle East and back several times. Suddenly she laughed, realizing she had been so busy thinking she had actually given herself three shampoos! Finally, however, the young detective finished her shower and got dressed.
“I almost forgot that the first thing to do is to find the mannequin,” Nancy thought. “Farouk didn’t ask Dad to come to Turkey to see him. He asked him to bring the figure that used to sit in his window.”
As she pondered the situation, Nancy went to the kitchen to start dinner preparations. Mrs. Gruen, a methodical person, always wrote down what the dinner menu would be.
Nancy looked on the pad and murmured, “Cream of mushroom soup, lamb chops, french fries, peas, chocolate pie.” At the bottom of the sheet was a notation: tomato salad and special dressing.
“I guess I’ll begin on the salad,” Nancy thought.
She found three plump ripe tomatoes in the refrigerator, which she skinned and sliced. Just as she was arranging them on beds of lettuce, Hannah Gruen arrived.
“Hello, Nancy,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here to help. It’s difficult for me with this sore finger to cut things.”
A few minutes later Mr. Drew let himself in through the front door and came directly to the kitchen.
“Oh. Dad, I have so much to tell you and Hannah,” Nancy said.
“Can you please wait until I have something to eat?” he asked, grinning. “I’m so starved I couldn’t stand any shock.”
Within twenty minutes the family was seated at the table and Nancy began her story. Hannah and Mr. Drew were intrigued, especially by the travel agency’s trip to Turkey. As soon as dessert had been served, Nancy excused herself from the table.
“I have something to show you both,” she said mysteriously and went up to her room.
“Oh no!” she gasped, stepping inside. “Togo, how on earth—?”
The little dog, perking up his ears, looked at his mistress. Dangling from his mouth was a curled-toed slipper! The paper in which the pair of slippers had been wrapped was in shreds and strewn across the floor.
“You naughty dog!” she scolded and he dropped the slipper.
Quickly Nancy picked up the mate and gathered the scraps of paper. Neither slipper had been damaged and with a sigh of relief Nancy returned to the dinner table carrying them,
“Bess and George and I are sure these were worn by the mannequin,” she said.
Mr. Drew looked at the slippers closely, turned them over, then went off for a magnifying glass.
“These shoes have been walked in,” he declared. “Not much, though.”
Hannah Gruen spoke up. “Maybe the mannequin was too heavy for Farouk to carry and he shoved her along the floor.”
“If he did that,” said Mr. Drew, “it means that he must have taken her in and out of the window. But why?”
The housekeeper had a practical answer. “Perhaps to change the costume or to clean the one she wore.”
The lawyer nodded. “That’s a very good guess. You’re probably right.”
The idea of the mannequin being moved in and out of the window intrigued Nancy. She decided that the following day she would ask shopkeepers and residents of Satcher Street what they knew about it.
CHAPTER VII
Sly Suspect
AFTER dinner Mr. Drew called the police depart ment to inquire if they had learned anything about the burglar who had tried to steal the prayer rug. After a somewhat lengthy conversation, he put the phone down and relayed a disappointing message to Nancy.
“No leads at all on that man who tried to steal the rug,” he said. “Chief McGinnis thinks the fellow has probably left town.”
“That’s too bad,” said Nancy. “I keep wondering if he’ll make another attempt to get into this house. Dad, I notice you had special burglarproof locks put on both the front and back doors.”
“Yes,” her father replied. “I’ll give you and Hannah keys. But anybody as clever as that fellow can probably figure out a way to unlock them.”
The Drews agreed that there was no use worrying about it. They would not live in fear.
Nancy’s father asked, “Have you found any more clues in the border of the rug?”
“No, but I think I’ll work on it a little right now.”
She went upstairs to her room, brought the rug to the living room, and laid it on the floor. Nancy moved a lamp close, showing up the design clearly. For some time there was silence in the room as the young detective and her father, sitting on the floor, endeavored to find another clue.
“This is frustrating,” Mr. Drew remarked half an hour later. He grinned. “I admit I’m getting a bit stiff sitting in this position. I think I’ll walk around outdoors a little. Want to come along, Nancy?”
“You bet,” she said eagerly.
From earliest childhood Nancy had been thrilled whenever her father had said, “Let’s take a walk.” She had learned a good deal about trees, shrubs, flowers and birds from him.
As they walked along the darkened street, Nancy said, “I hear an owl.”
“That’s right,” her father agreed. He chuckled. “Hear what the wise old one is saying?”
Nancy listened, then she giggled. “It sounds as if he were saying, ‘You will, you will!’ ”
“Exactly,” Mr. Drew said. “I’ll bet when we get back to the house you’ll discover another part of Farouk’s message.”
Nancy squeezed her father’s arm. “Are you tired of walking?” she asked with a grin. “I can hardly wait to search the rug for more clues.”
Father and daughter laughed and circled several adjoining side streets. Finally they returned to the house. Nancy sped into the living room and dropped to the floor. She again scrutinized the border of the rug. To Nancy’s delight her father’s prediction came true. She found two more words: “her to.”
“Oh, Dad, you were right!” she called out.
The lawyer walked in and looked. “Now the instructions are ‘Carson, find mannequin. I love her. Carry her to—’ But where?”
Nancy continued her search until she became sleepy, but found nothing. She folded up the rug and took it to her bedroom.
Early the next morning she telephoned George, then Bess. George was already up but Bess sounded very sleepy.
“Want to help me with some sleuthing?” Nancy asked. Both girls said yes, but Bess begged for a full hour to get ready.
“No hurry,” said Nancy. “We’re just going downtown in the vicinity of the tailor shop and find out from people who live or work there what they may know about the mannequin.”
Nancy once more took out the rug and began to study it. She had barely begun when the front doorbell rang and Hannah admitted George.
“I decided to walk over and save Nancy the trip to my house,” she said.
“Nancy’s upstairs,” said the housekeeper. “Go right up.”
George joined Nancy in the search for further words or symbols. A few minutes later she said, “I think I’ve found something! It looks like ‘nst.’ ”
Nancy stared at the section to which George was pointing. She smiled.
“You’re absolutely right. I wonder if it’s part of a word. And also, is it French or English or something else?”
The two girls continued the search. It was several minutes before George found two more letters
le.
Nancy sat back on her heels, trying to figure out if there was any connection between the two groups. She could think of nothing. Finally she took paper and pencils from her desk for herself and George.
“Let’s try to decipher this thing,” she said.
Nancy sat at her desk and George at the dressing table. Using the letters nst and
le
they tried to make a word. Every few minutes they would heave sighs of disappointment. But suddenly Nancy gave a shout.
“I have it!” she said.
“What is it?” George asked.
“Constantinople! ”
George stared at the young detective in admiration. “That used to be the name of Istanbul!”
“Exactly.” Nancy began dancing around the room in exuberance. “The mannequin is to be taken to Istanbul!”
The news was too good to keep. As George hurried downstairs to tell Hannah Gruen, Nancy telephoned her father.
“That’s great!” he said, then chuckled. “Nancy, it begins to look as if you might have to go to Istanbul.”
“And you too,” she said.
“We’ll see about that,” he replied. “Farouk is certainly guarding his secret well. It was clever of him to use letters from the old name of Istanbul as a disguise.”
By this time an hour had passed. Nancy and George got into the convertible and went to pick Bess up.
“Hi, sleepyhead!” George greeted her cousin. “You missed all the excitement.”
“Tell me about it,” Bess begged.
Upon hearing of the message to bring the mannequin to Istanbul, her eyes popped wide open. “Are you going?” she asked Nancy.
“How can I? I don’t have the mannequin and I have no idea where she is. By the way, the father of the boy we saved runs a travel agency and has arranged a trip to Turkey.”
George grinned. “When do we start?”
There was no more conversation until the girls reached Satcher Street. Then Nancy suggested that they separate to make inquiries about the mannequin. She would take the center section, while the girls inquired at the two ends.
Nancy spoke to the shopkeepers on either side of Mr. Anthony’s shop. Both said they had moved there after Farouk had left, and knew nothing about his business.
The young detective went across the street to interview shopkeepers there, but had no better luck until she went into a bakery. The owner said he could not help her, but he was sure that Mrs. Beimer, who occupied an apartment above his shop, would be able to give her some information.