But when Nancy rose and walked toward the kitchen, Togo followed her. She went through the darkened room and peered outside. There was no one around.
“Perhaps I’d better turn on the porch light,” she thought, and flicked the switch.
The outside lamp illuminated the entire Drew yard. No one was in sight.
“I must have heard a prowling animal,” Nancy thought.
She turned off the light and went back to the living room. She became interested in reading that the name of the Moslems’ sacred scripture is the Koran.
“Today’s students are finding it extremely difficult to read the book because it is not printed in the Latinized alphabet being used in the schools.”
The author went on to say that a translation was in progress. “Parents are glad it is being done because they are proud to have their children not only read but memorize the Koran from cover to cover.”
Nancy was about to put the book down when she idly turned to a section of color photographs showing robes and uniforms of olden times when sultans and their assistants lived so lavishly.
“Imagine!” she thought. “This uniform has two hundred and six diamonds sewed into it!”
Nancy finished looking at the fabulous costumes, then turned off the light and sat thinking about the mystery. Presently she was startled again by a sound from the rear of the house. Was someone tiptoeing on the first floor? She did not move and Togo did not wake up.
A few seconds later the young detective became aware of the shadow of a man moving forward from the rear of the hall. She stood up without making a sound. The intruder sneaked toward the front door, his back to her. He grabbed the Turkish prayer rug from the chair in one hand. With his other he turned the front doorknob.
“Stop!” Nancy cried out, leaping across the living-room floor to the hall.
The thief turned, startled. Nancy reached for the rug and was able to grab one end of it with both hands. The man gave it a yank but she would not let go.
“Don’t you dare take this!” she shouted at him, and called loudly, “Dad! Dad!”
By this time the man had the front door partly open. Nancy began to feel she was waging a losing battle until Togo joined her.
Seeing the tug of war, the terrier growled. Then he leaped up and grabbed the man’s shirt cuff.
CHAPTER V
Burglar’s Bracelet
THE tug of war went on. Nancy was fearful that the precious prayer rug would be torn apart or damaged and the rest of the message in its border ruined.
The thief held on to the rug, despite the fact that Togo was clinging to the man’s ripped shirt sleeve and Nancy was pulling at the rug. He managed to get outdoors, yanking it with him. Once there, however, he gave up and sped down the driveway.
By this time Mr. Drew and Hannah, awakened by the commotion and Nancy’s cries, had run down to the first floor. Togo was chasing the man and barking wildly. When they reached the street, the little dog gave up the chase. But he continued to yap at the disappearing figure until Nancy called him back.
“Good dog!” she said “You saved the rug.”
“What do you mean?” Mr. Drew asked.
Nancy told what had happened. While Hannah examined the rug, Mr. Drew hurried to the telephone and reported the burglar to the police.
Two officers arrived in a short time. The one named Wolf asked for a description of the intruder.
“He is in his early twenties, of medium height, and has blue eyes,” Nancy reported. “His hair’s black and he wears a beard and mustache. He could be of Turkish descent.”
The officers knew of no such person, but said they would try to locate him. Wolf reported to headquarters over his short-wave radio, while the other policeman went with the Drews and Hannah Gruen to the rear of the house, hoping to discover how the intruder had entered. The kitchen door and all the windows were locked.
“That burglar is a slick one,” Mrs. Gruen remarked. “He must have had a master key.”
The officer opened the door and examined the lock. “I’d say the fellow has a special kind of master key. No ordinary key would open this.” He made several notes in his report book, then he and his partner left.
Soon afterward, everyone went upstairs. Nancy took the prayer rug with her and hid it in her bedroom closet. Just before going to sleep an idea came to the young detective. She would get hold of Bess and George the following morning for a tour of locksmith shops in River Heights and surrounding towns to find a possible clue to the burglar.
Her two friends were amazed to hear what had happened at the Drew home and excited to help Nancy track down the intruder. The three girls drove off in Nancy’s car soon after nine o’clock.
The locksmiths in River Heights could not help Nancy. None of them had ever seen a man fitting the description of the Drews’ burglar. In several nearby towns the girls had no better luck.
Finally they reached the town of Everest and looked in the classified section of the telephone directory to locate locksmiths. There was only one and Nancy drove directly to the shop. In the window was a sign:
R. S. SMITH
I GUARANTEE TO OPEN ANY UNUSUAL LOCK
Nancy, Bess, and George grinned. George remarked. “That’s almost like advertising you’re a super-duper burglar.”
Bess said in a whisper, “Nancy, maybe he is the man you’re looking for.”
R. S. Smith was a tall, blond, good-natured man who in no way resembled the Drews’ intruder.
“Good morning, young ladies,” he said. “What can I do for you? I’ll bet you’ve locked your key in your car!”
The girls smiled and Nancy said, “No, and I’m afraid we have no business for you. We’d like some help, though.”
“Shoot!” said the man, leaning across the counter.
Nancy quickly told her story and Mr. Smith frowned. “Sounds bad. I believe I can help you at that. A fellow answering your description was in here about a week ago. He said he read my sign in the window and would like to challenge me.
“He bragged that he could open something I couldn’t. I took him up and brought out a lock which I admit I’ve never been able to open. Do you know that within five minutes that guy had it unlocked? He used a master key he carried in a pocket.”
“Fabulous,” said Bess.
George added, “I’ll bet he’s the person we’re looking for. Have you any idea where he is?”
Mr. Smith shook his head. “I asked him if he had a business card with him. He said no. Then he turned on his heels and walked out of here. I can’t tell you much else, except I think he’s a foreigner—speaks with a slight accent.”
“You’ve been a great help,” Nancy said. “Thank you.”
She was glad to have obtained that much information, although disappointed not to have the man’s name or address. She left her own name and telephone number in case the suspect should come back.
Just as the girls were about to leave, Mr. Smith said, “I just thought of something that might help you. While that guy was working on the special lock, one of his sleeves pulled up. I noticed he wore a real fancy bracelet.”
“What did it look like?” Nancy asked.
Mr. Smith described it as being very wide and made of gold filigree. “It was studded with turquoise,” he added, then laughed. “You wouldn’t catch me wearing anything like that!”
George made a face. “I don’t blame you.”
Bess disagreed. “Why shouldn’t a man wear a bracelet if he wants to?”
Nancy thanked Mr. Smith for his help and led the way back to her car.
“It’s lunchtime,” Bess reminded the others. “I could go for a nice big salad. I saw a sign a few miles back advertising the Water Wheel Restaurant a short distance beyond here. It sounds good. Let’s try it.”
“Okay,” said Nancy, and headed the car in that direction.
The place was picturesque, with tables set in an attractive garden along the water. The river was a rushing millstream
with a huge water wheel in full operation.
“How charming!” Bess murmured, getting out of the car. “Let’s try to get a table right by the water.”
The head waitress complied with her request and led the three girls to a table very near the bank of the rushing stream. Bess’s desire for a huge fruit salad was gratified while Nancy and George each took shrimp salad.
“Do you girls want dessert?” George asked half an hour later. “I’m stuffed.”
Before anyone could answer, Nancy’s attention was caught by a little boy who was running among the tables. Playfully one of the guests made a grab for him. In dodging out of the way, the child came so close to the edge of the bank that he lost his balance and toppled into the water!
“Oh!” cried Nancy.
She was out of her chair like a shot, kicked off her shoes, and dived in. She knew the little boy would be swiftly carried toward the water wheel and scooped up. His small body would be battered. He might even be killed!
With quick strokes she reached the child’s side and held onto him. By this time Bess and George and other guests had come to the edge of the bank and were looking down in horror.
“Hypers!” cried George. “I’d better go in and help!”
The combined strength of the two girls kept them and the boy from being swept closer to the water wheel. They staggered to the side of the stream, where Nancy handed up the child to Bess. Then she and George, grasping vines and jutting rocks, managed to pull themselves to the top.
Nancy reached the child and held onto him
There were cries of relief and praise from the crowd. The little boy’s mother and father had run out from the inside dining room of the restaurant. They tried to quiet the hysterical child.
“How can I ever thank you?” the woman half-sobbed.
The father shook hands with each of the dripping girls and said, “You are very brave. God bless you both.”
By this time the owner of the restaurant had been summoned. She at once asked Nancy and George to follow her inside and took them upstairs to a bedroom. The woman gave them robes and said she would put their clothes in her electric dryer.
A little later she appeared with the girls’ clothes, shoes, and purses. A waitress carried a tray of hot tea. They thanked her and Nancy said she wanted to pay for their lunch checks.
“I guess we’ve lost our appetite for dessert.”
The woman smiled. “The little boy’s parents were so grateful they paid for your lunches,” she said. “Both of them felt they should leave and get their son home as soon as possible.”
George chuckled. “Kind of a risky way to earn a free lunch!” she remarked.
“Yes,” the woman said. “I hope nothing like this ever happens here again.”
Bess was waiting for the girls when they came downstairs. Even she had not been tempted to order dessert. “My heart’s been pounding from the scare for the past half hour.”
She and the others headed for River Heights. Bess and George expected Nancy to take them to their homes, but instead she turned down an unfamiliar side street and presently stopped.
“Where are we headed now?” George asked.
“The Curtis Realty Company. It collects the rent from the shop that used to be Farouk Tahmasp’s. I want to ask if they know what became of the mannequin.”
Bess and George decided to wait in the car. Nancy entered the realty company office. The only one on duty was a smart-alecky young man.
“Looking for an apartment?” he asked with a smirk.
“No,” Nancy replied and did not smile back. “The tailor shop on Satcher Street which you are leasing used to be rented by a rug dealer and I—”
“Oh, I remember that guy,” the young man interrupted. “Funny fellow. Never laughed.”
Nancy thought, “Farouk probably didn’t like this wise guy’s brand of humor and didn’t laugh at it.”
“You may recall that he had a mannequin in his window,” Nancy continued. “I’m trying to find out where it is.”
“Alex,” the young man said, thumping himself on the chest, “Alex would say Farouk buried her in the cemetery.”
“The cemetery!” Nancy exclaimed.
Alex gave a wide, sadistic grin. “What would you do with a dummy that you couldn’t take with you when you ran away? Suppose you thought too much of her to give her away or sell her? You’d bury her!”
Nancy was stunned by such a thought. She was about to turn and leave, but stopped and said, “Please give me a straight answer. Have you any idea where the mannequin is?”
“No.”
When Nancy reached the street, she saw the little tailor running toward her. He looked very excited.
Waving a hand back toward his shop, he said, “Come with me. I help you!”
CHAPTER VI
Turkish Slippers
NANCY beckoned to Bess and George to get out of the car and come with her. She told them what the tailor had said. Curious, the three girls followed him down the street.
“What’s the man’s name?” Bess asked.
“Mr. Anthony.”
When they reached the shop, he turned and said, “Today find.”
He led the way into the back room where a worn and faded Turkish rug lay on the floor. Mr. Anthony scampered over toward one side of the room and turned up a corner of the rug, revealing a wooden floor.
“See something here,” the man said and pointed.
The light was rather dim, but the girls’ sharp eyes finally detected the bare outline of a large square.
“Is it a trap door?” Nancy asked.
“No understand English trap door,” Mr. Anthony replied.
He got down on his knees and made an outline of the square with his fingers. Then from his pocket he took a pair of tailor’s shears and began to pry up the section of flooring. The girls squatted down and helped him. Presently the square piece was removed.
Below was a shallow area, apparently for storage. Inside lay a pair of women’s Turkish slippers. Nancy reached down and eagerly lifted them out.
“How attractive!” said Bess.
The slippers were made of flowered satin in a pattern something like that in the rug Mr. Drew had received from Istanbul. The toes curled up daintily.
“These look new,” Nancy remarked. “Do you suppose they could have been worn by the mannequin?”
“I’ll bet they were,” George answered. “I wonder where the rest of her costume is and why her slippers were hidden here.”
There was nothing else in the secret compartment, so the wooden section was replaced.
Mr. Anthony spoke up. Addressing Nancy, he said, “I hear you a detective. You take.” He pointed to the slippers.
“All right,” Nancy agreed without hesitation. “But I’ll sign a receipt that I have the slippers.” After doing this, she added, “By the way, Mr. Anthony, how did you know I was at the realty office?”
“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 thoug
htful. “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.