“It looks like you, Nancy!” Bess cried out
The girls took a long walk along the sandy shore. As they returned to the area where the boats were docked, they saw Mr. Ayer coming in their direction. He was smiling.
“Good news for you young detectives,” he said. “Mrs. Merriam positively identified the marble piece in the shed as the whispering statue. I’ve already ordered workmen to give it a thorough cleaning, then to bring it over to the club. The big flower urn on the front lawn will be removed and the statue set in its original place.”
“Well, I’m glad that mystery is solved,” said Bess. “Aren’t you, Nancy?”
Her friend did not reply at once. Finally she said, “I wonder if it really has been solved.”
“What do you mean?” Bess asked.
Nancy said, “I won’t be satisfied until I hear the statue whisper.”
By the time the girls reached the shed, two workmen had brought the marble figure outside and were now loading it into the back of the club truck onto an old mattress. The girls were invited to go along and help steady the statue. The marble figure was taken to the area where cars were washed and given a bath.
“She looks much better,” George remarked, “but still she doesn’t whisper.”
The sculpture was taken to the front lawn and set in place, so that the young woman looked directly out over the bay. Still there was not a sound from her.
Bess asked, “Is she turned so she’s facing exactly toward Italy? I’m sure she did originally.”
“I dunno,” said one of the workmen. “Which way is Italy?”
No one in the group was quite sure so the statue was turned inch by inch. After a complete semicircle, there was still not a sound from the marble lady.
“What difference does it make?” one of the workmen asked. “She’s a beauty and sure looks nice in front of the yacht club.”
The girls agreed, then walked off slowly and went to their bedroom to change for dinner.
“Nancy, you’ve been so quiet,” Bess remarked. “What’s on your mind? Do you suspect that someone has tampered with the statue and that’s why it no longer whispers?”
CHAPTER VI
Thieves
“IT’S very possible that someone tampered with the statue,” Nancy answered Bess’s query. “And now she won’t whisper. It’s up to us to find out what happened.”
“Maybe,” George spoke up, “the statue never really whispered. The whole story could have been made up to scare people away from this place when it was an estate.”
Nancy stood by the window staring down at the marble piece. “You girls are going to be shocked at my guess.”
“Just the same I want to hear it,”. said George.
She and Bess joined Nancy at the window and looked down at the statue. Nancy put an arm around each girl and said, “I have a strong hunch that the statue we’re looking at is a reproduction of the original.”
“What!” Bess cried. “But why would the thief go to all that trouble?”
“I see Nancy’s point,” said George. “The thief hoped to fool the police and keep them off his trail.”
Bess stepped back and looked at Nancy admiringly. “Your hunches are so often right it startles me. How do you propose to go about proving this one?”
Nancy said she would telephone her father and tell him her suspicions. “He’ll know an expert who can give the answer.”
Bess and George were amazed at Nancy’s deduction. George said, “If you’re right, then the thief is a clever person.”
Nancy nodded. “And he won’t be easy to catch. I believe that the person who made the mold for the reproduction accidentally covered whatever it was that caused the statue to whisper.”
“I see what you mean,” Bess spoke up. “The police were looking for a statue that whispered.”
“I suggest,” said Nancy, “that we say nothing about my hunch to anyone except Dad. The thief will think he’s safe.” She smiled. “He may just get careless and be more easily picked up.”
The girls went down to dinner. Nancy telephoned home but no one answered.
The next morning Bess went to their bedroom window to look at the view. Suddenly she cried out and pointed toward the statue. “Those men are moving the marble statue!”
“I wonder if Mr. Ayer knows about this,” said George. “Let’s find out!”
The girls rushed from the room and downstairs. The manager was not around, so Nancy asked the desk clerk, Mr. Carter, if he knew about it.
“No,” he said, “but I can’t believe those three men would try to steal the statue in broad daylight.”
He requested his assistant to take over and hurried outdoors with the girls. Mr. Carter asked the men why they were moving the piece.
“We got orders to cart it away for cleaning,” one of them replied, and the men went on with their work.
“Who at the club gave you permission to take it?” Nancy inquired.
“Nobody. Here’s our orders.” The mover took an order form from his pocket. It contained no firm’s name and neither did the truck, so Nancy asked what company the men worked for.
The man who seemed to be in charge did not reply. He became surly and said, “I don’t have to answer questions. Come on, boys. Let’s get going.”
Mr. Carter’s eyes blazed. “Leave that statue alone! You’ll have to show better identification before you move it.”
One of the other men spoke up. “Come on, AI. We don’t want no trouble.”
Apparently Al thought so too and the three men went off in their truck.
Mr. Carter turned to Nancy. “Miss Lynbrook,” he said, “I believe you girls stopped a robbery just in time.”
His statement was confirmed a few minutes later when Mr. Ayer joined them. After being told what had happened, he said, “The club didn’t order the statue cleaned. Those men were fakes! I shall have it cemented down to avoid further trouble.”
The girls looked at one another. Who wanted the figure removed and why? As they walked into the clubhouse, George asked what the program for the day would be. “I hope it’ll be exciting.”
“I think,” Nancy replied, “that until I can contact Dad—he’s out of town—we’d better concentrate on the other mystery.”
“You mean Mr. Basswood?” Bess asked.
“Yes.” Nancy suggested that the girls visit his art gallery and bookshop.
“All right,” Bess agreed. “But you know I couldn’t afford to buy anything in the place. What excuse would we have for going in?”
George looked at her cousin a bit scornfully. “When you shop for a dress, do you take the first one you see in the first shop?”
Bess winced. As a shopper, she had the reputation of finding it difficult to make up her mind about any purchase.
Nancy laughed. “You girls will be surprised at what I’m going to ask Mr. Basswood.”
“What is it?” Bess queried.
Nancy shook her head teasingly. “I want you to be surprised. We’d better hurry. He may close for an early lunch.”
The Basswood Art and Bookshop was very at tractive. Statuary and porcelain displayed in the windows were exquisite. Nancy opened the door and the trio walked in. They were in a small hallway with rooms opening off either side and a passageway at the rear. Before they had a chance to notice anything else, they were confronted by a tall slender man. Deep creases in his forehead were an indication that he scowled a great deal.
“Good morning,” he said in a crisp voice. “Will you please register in this book.” He pointed to an open guest book. “Your names and home addresses.”
The girls were taken aback. This was the last thing in the world they wanted to do! Bess and George looked to Nancy for an answer.
Nancy appeared nonchalant. She said with a smile. “Oh, we won’t need any catalogs.”
The man did not smile back. “It is a rule of Mr. Basswood. I am Mr. Atkin, his assistant.”
He picked up the pen and handed it to Bess. Nancy gave a slight go-ahead nod and Bess signed her name and River Heights address.
George was next. As she gave the pen to Nancy, she fervently hoped that the young detective would not forget she was using an alias. To her delight Nancy put down Debbie Lynbrook, River Heights.
Mr. Atkin glanced at the signatures, then lifted his eyebrows. “You’re all from River Heights?” he asked. “Do you know a Miss Nancy Drew who lives there?”
The girls managed to show no surprise and George replied quickly, “I guess everybody in town knows Nancy Drew. Are you acquainted with her?”
The girls were curious when he answered, “Not personally, but a client of mine from River Heights has spoken of her.”
“Oh really?” Bess remarked. “I wonder if we know this person. Would you mind telling us who it is?”
“Mrs. Worth. Are you acquainted with her?”
“Not really,” Bess answered. “But we know of her.”
The girls did indeed know of Mrs. Worth. She was wealthy, overbearing, and a great gossip. She had, no doubt, followed Nancy’s exploits as an amateur detective.
At that moment a slender dark-haired man with long sideburns came from a room off the hallway marked
Office.
The assistant introduced him as Mr. Basswood.
As the shop owner asked graciously if he could help the girls, Nancy found it hard to believe that he was deliberately cheating Mrs. Merriam.
In her disguised voice, Debbie Lynbrook asked, “May we look around? You have so many beautiful things here it will be hard to decide what to buy.”
The two men followed the girls closely as they wandered about, exclaiming over beautiful porcelain objects and fine old paintings. Nancy was fascinated by the lovely statuettes, but when she picked one up and looked at the price, she was astonished.
“I’d have to be very wealthy to buy it!” she said to herself.
Mr. Atkin had gone to the front door and was requesting a stout woman to sign the register. After doing so, the customer went directly to the rare books section. Nancy herself was looking over the collection. The customer paid no attention to Mr. Basswood and instead addressed herself to Nancy.
“I can’t decide between this green leather volume and the red-and-gold one.”
Nancy wondered if the woman was buying the volume for the cover or the contents. She asked, “Do you like poetry?”
The stout woman giggled. “Only if it’s about love.”
Nancy examined the two books. The red- and gold-covered volume was in Old English dialect. She was sure the woman would not be able to read it. The green volume, she discovered, did have some love poems.
“I think you’d like this one,” she said, handing it over.
“Very well. I’ll buy it. Would you mind wrapping it for me?”
Nancy smiled. “I think Mr. Basswood will want to do that.” She beckoned him to come forward.
He was just in time to hear the stout woman say, “Oh, salesmen make me nervous. I much prefer women clerks.” Nevertheless, the customer trotted off after Mr. Basswood.
Nancy continued to examine the rare volumes. She hoped one of them might contain the name Merriam written inside but none did.
Suddenly a male voice said, “Can you help me? I’m looking for a small painting to give my wife for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.”
Nancy caught Mr. Basswood looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Apparently he wondered what she would say. She decided to take a chance on making the sale for him.
“How about that one on the wall over there?” she suggested. “It’s a cheerful scene of the Mediterranean and has a beautiful silver frame.”
“You’re absolutely right. I like your taste.” He walked over, looked at the price, and said he would buy it.
Nancy directed him to Mr. Basswood. Bess and George, having overheard everything, were amused. They told Nancy they had found nothing they could afford.
Bess asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“In a minute. I want to speak to Mr. Basswood.” When he came up to the girls, Nancy said, “Mr. Basswood, I’m staying at the yacht club. It’s rather expensive. I’d love to earn money toward my bill. Could you possibly give me a job here?”
CHAPTER VII
Four Spies
FOR a moment Mr. Basswood stared in amazement at Nancy. Then his look of surprise vanished and he asked, “Where have you worked before?”
“Oh no place. But I go to art school and I do know a good bit about paintings.”
“And how about statuary?” the shop owner asked.
“Very little,” Nancy admitted. “But if you have a catalog, I could study it.”
Mr. Atkin had walked up. He had overheard the conversation and now looked even more unpleasant than he had before. He said nothing, however.
Mr. Basswood asked Nancy, “What do you know about rare books?”
“Not much,” she said, then gave him a broad smile. “But I did manage to sell a book and a painting.”
“Yes, you did,” Mr. Basswood admitted. “Furthermore, I’ve been thinking about what the stout lady said—that salesmen make her nervous. She prefers women clerks.”
“I’m sure I could do the job,” Nancy told him.
The shop owner thought over the proposition for a full fifteen seconds, then said, “All right, I’ll give you a chance. But remember, I’m not making any promise to keep you, and I’ll pay you only the minimum wage rate.”
Nancy was fearful that he might ask her for a social security number or other type of identification but he said nothing about it and she bubbled eagerly, “How soon may I start?”
“You may come in tomorrow,” Mr. Basswood replied. “Your hours will be from ten to twelve and two to four.”
“Oh thank you! Thanks very much,” said Nancy and the girls hurried off.
It was not until they were two blocks away from the art shop that the three friends burst into laughter.
George remarked, “Debbie Lynbrook, you certainly put that one over. You’d better be a good salesgirl if you hope to stay at the shop and do any sleuthing.”
Bess suddenly sobered. “At first I thought all this was funny, but now I’m afraid you’re headed for trouble.”