The Clue of the Black Keys

  “Arrest me, will you?” he roared. “It’s this girl—you said her name’s Nancy Drew—she’s the one you ought to arrest!”

  CHAPTER III

  Clue in a Triangle

  NANCY looked at the heavy-set man in amazement. Sergeant Malloy protested, “Come, now. What do you have against Miss Drew?”

  “Plenty,” he answered, his gray-green eyes flashing. “She sent you to embarrass me. Look how everybody’s staring at me, as if I was going to jail. She’s hurt my good name. I’ve been doing business in River Heights and people know me. My reputation is worth money. My business—”

  “What kind of business?” interrupted the sergeant.

  “I sell citrus fruit for the Tropical Sun Fruit Company of Florida.”

  Sergeant Malloy grumbled, “Let’s see your driver’s license and car registration.”

  The man thrust them under Malloy’s nose. Nancy and the sergeant studied them together. The license and registration were made out to Wilfred Porterly on a street in Miami, Florida.

  “All right, Mr. Porterly,” said the sergeant. “Tell me one thing. Where’s your friend?”

  “Juarez Tino,” Nancy added.

  Porterly blinked and hesitated, then said, “I don’t know any Juarez Tino.”

  “How about the man who rode in your car? Is his name Conway King?” Nancy asked.

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “I never saw him before. He begged a ride. Told me he’d left some important papers at his hotel. Couldn’t find a taxi, so he asked me to take him back to town.

  “After he picked up his papers, I drove him here to the airport. He made me drive onto the field so he wouldn’t miss his plane.”

  “And you nearly killed yourself and all the plane passengers just to accommodate a stranger?” Malloy said sarcastically.

  “It wasn’t my fault. He grabbed the wheel.”

  Nancy pretended surprise. “You say Juarez took the wheel?”

  “Sure. I mean—I don’t know what his name was.”

  Porterly must have felt that his words had trapped him. He turned his fury on Nancy.

  “You’re responsible. If there’d been a crash, you’d have been to blame!”

  “Nancy Drew,” stated a firm, angry voice from the crowd, “is a very fine girl. You’d better be careful what you say about her.”

  Nancy turned in astonishment. An athletic-looking, dark-haired girl was striding toward her. She was Nancy’s friend, George Fayne. With her was pretty Bess Marvin, her cousin.

  “What is it all about?” Bess whispered when they reached Nancy’s side. “I found I’d left my hatbox, so I asked George to drive back here with me.”

  “Tell you later,” Nancy said in a low voice.

  “You’d better quiet down,” the sergeant was telling Porterly, “or I’ll arrest you for disturbing the peace. Sell all the grapefruit you want, but behave yourself. I’ll be watching you.”

  Porterly hesitated. Then, with a baleful look, he turned and walked rapidly toward his sedan.

  Sergeant Malloy spoke to the crowd. “All right, folks, break it up.” With a wave of his hand at Nancy and her friends, he strode off.

  George Fayne watched the disappearing figure of the blustering Porterly.

  “Hypers, Nancy,” she scolded, “you do get mixed up with the strangest characters.”

  “Nancy, you aren’t involved in another mystery before you even get home!” Bess exclaimed.

  “Well,” Nancy confessed, “I’m not sure.”

  The three girls walked together to Nancy’s car and she stepped in.

  “We have company,” George whispered.

  Nancy looked through the rear window of her car. Terry Scott was hurrying toward her and

  waving an arm. Nancy introduced him to Bess and George.

  “I’m sorry about that rumpus with Porterly,” Terry began. “I was in a booth trying to call a taxi. I heard shouts, but I hadn’t any idea you were involved.”

  “No harm done,” said Nancy. “My friends here came to my defense.”

  “And we mean to keep on defending you until we get you safely home,” George promised.

  Terry grinned. “Since your friends protect you so well, perhaps you’ll drive me to my hotel. Every public taxi in this town seems to be busy.”

  “I guess it’ll be safe.” Nancy laughed.

  As the car rolled toward River Heights, Bess and George drove directly in back of her. When she pulled up in front of the Claymore Hotel, Terry reached into his pocket and brought out the tissue-wrapped half-key.

  “I want you to keep this for me,” he said to Nancy, “both as a pledge of my integrity and because I no longer dare keep it myself.”

  “You mean someone like Juarez may try to steal the key?” Nancy asked.

  Terry nodded and said, “This must never get in the hands of the wrong people. Please take my case,” he went on. “I believe that you are the person who can solve it.”

  Nancy hesitated to take the key until she knew him better, but decided to show it to her father when she asked his advice about the case. Aloud she said, “You’ll hear from me tomorrow.”

  Nancy slipped the relic into her shoulder bag. As Terry entered his hotel, Bess and George pulled up alongside her.

  “Lucky you!” Bess called out.

  “He’s charming,” George teased. “I’m sending an application to Keystone University!”

  “Stop it, girls,” Nancy pleaded, then added with a grin, “But he is handsome, isn’t he?”

  Without waiting for a reply, she started her car, waving good-by to Bess and George. Nancy threaded her way through the heavy traffic.

  When she arrived home, her father and the housekeeper, Hannah Gruen, greeted her at the door. Mrs. Gruen had taken care of the home and reared Nancy since Mrs. Drew’s death many years before. After kissing them both, Nancy led the way into the attractive, comfortable living room.

  Carson Drew said with a chuckle, “Nancy, from the grip you have on that purse, you must have brought a treasure from New York.”

  “It may lead to one,” his daughter declared.

  She showed him the half-key, asking if he had ever seen anything like it.

  “No.”

  “Dad, do you know a Terence Scott?”

  “I just met him this morning. He was at my office. What made you ask?”

  “This key is his. He met me at the plane.”

  Mr. Drew’s eyes widened. “I did tell him you were arriving by plane, but I had no idea—”

  “How much do you know about him?”

  “Practically nothing.”

  “Dad, please phone Keystone University and ask what he teaches and what they think of him?”

  “Gladly, Detective Drew.” Her father smiled.

  Nancy gave him a hug. “Oh, Dad, there’s so much to tell—”

  “But not now, please,” said Hannah Gruen. “I’ve been saving dinner for you, and if you don’t sit down soon, it’ll be ruined.”

  “Dinner!” cried Nancy. “That’s a lovely idea. I’ll be ready in two jiffs.”

  She hurried upstairs. Before she even smoothed her hair, Nancy took the key from her purse and hid it among scarfs and handkerchiefs in a drawer of her dressing table.

  During dinner Nancy told about her weekend and the exciting events that had taken place at the airport.

  Mr. Drew said that he knew the elderly Dr. Pitt with whom Terry Scott claimed to have been in Mexico. “I’ll call Keystone now.”

  After a slight delay, Mr. Drew was connected with the president’s home, and presented his questions. In a few minutes the conversation was over.

  “The report is, Nancy, that Terence Scott is an outstanding young professor, who has a leave of absence this year. He went to Mexico last summer on an exploring expedition.”

  “Then his story is true!” Nancy exclaimed. “Dad, is there any reason why I shouldn’t help him on the case?”

  “I can’t give my answer to that q
uestion until I make a further investigation.” Mr. Drew could not be dissuaded from this decision.

  Nancy retired, still trying to account for the strange happenings of the day. But her head was hardly upon the pillow, before she fell fast asleep.

  It was past midnight when she awoke with a start. The light on her bedside table was on. Hannah Gruen was gently shaking her. The woman’s face was drawn and white.

  “What’s the matter?” Nancy asked in alarm.

  The housekeeper put a finger to her lips, then whispered, “Burglar!” She signaled Nancy to put on a robe and follow her into the hall.

  Mr. Drew was on the stairs. In his hand he held a golf club ready to use as a weapon.

  “Hannah,” he ordered, “stay close to Nancy. You two look around the rooms up here. I’m going downstairs. Yell if you find anyone.”

  She and Nancy looked through each room, searching closets and peering under beds. Everything seemed to be normal.

  “Dad’s calling us,” Nancy said a few minutes later.

  They hurried downstairs. Mr. Drew was in the living room, looking at the open window next to the piano.

  “It’s been jimmied,” he said.

  “Do you suppose somebody’s still in the house?” Mrs. Gruen asked.

  “I think that whoever it was got away,” Carson Drew concluded, pointing outside the window. In the soft earth close to a rosebush, they saw a man’s footprints.

  “Has anything been stolen?” the housekeeper asked.

  “No. I checked,” Mr. Drew said.

  “The black key!” thought Nancy.

  She turned and raced upstairs. The key was where she had put it.

  “I’m glad I didn’t leave it downstairs,” she told herself with a sigh of relief.

  Every place that had not been searched before was investigated, in case the intruder had an accomplice hiding in the house. But there was no stranger on the premises.

  “It’s too bad Togo wasn’t here, Nancy,” Hannah said. “He would have taken care of the burglar!”

  Togo, Nancy’s terrier, was with Mr. Drew’s sister, who was spending a three-weeks’ vacation at her summer home.

  When Nancy came downstairs at nine o’clock the next morning, she found Bess Marvin waiting for her. Bess sat at the table and chatted excitedly while Nancy ate breakfast.

  “Mrs. Gruen told me all about last night,” Bess began. “If you take Terry Scott’s case, something awful is bound to happen.”

  Nancy raised her eyebrows. “But what?”

  “Well, it seems so dangerous. And Ned Nickerson won’t like it a bit. He’ll be so worried, Nancy, especially when he takes a look at your professor!”

  “Bess!” exclaimed Nancy, smiling. “Ned won’t think anything of the sort!”

  As she finished a glass of milk, the telephone rang. “Nancy, it’s for you,” Hannah announced.

  The caller was Terry Scott. His voice sounded hoarse and excited. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Oh yes. Quite safe,” she assured him, thinking he meant the key. “Has something happened?”

  “Yes. Something serious. When I came up to my hotel room last night, a visitor was waiting for me in the closet. He struck me on the head and I didn’t come to until six o’clock this morning.”

  “How dreadful!” Nancy gasped. “What did he look like?”

  “I don’t know. All I saw was a mask.”

  “Did he steal anything?”

  “He certainly did. Took most of my notes on that Mexican expedition. I planned to use them for a lecture I’m giving soon.”

  “Did he take anything else?”

  “Apparently not. He did a thorough search job, though, on my suitcase. Dumped everything on the floor.”

  Terry decided he had better say no more on the telephone. “I’ll come over later and talk to you,” he suggested.

  “All right. I’ll be here.”

  When Nancy told Bess what had happened, the girl’s eyes grew wide with fear. “Maybe he’s the same thief who came to your house last night,” she said.

  “I’ve thought of that. I ought to tell Dad,” Nancy added, going to the telephone. As she started to dial, Carson Drew himself walked down the stairs.

  “Good morning, girls,” he said.

  “Dad!” Nancy exclaimed as the lawyer bent down to kiss her cheek. “I thought you’d gone to the office.”

  “Not this morning,” Mr. Drew replied, smiling. “I have news for you.”

  “I have news, too,” she said, and related what Terry Scott had told her over the telephone.

  “Too bad,” the lawyer remarked.

  “Now tell us your news,” Nancy urged him.

  “It’s about the same young man,” her father explained. “What you have just told me complicates matters still more. You recall that I hinted to you on the phone just before you left New York about doing a little detective work for me?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  Before he could continue, they heard a car enter the driveway. A taxicab pulled up.

  “My news will have to wait,” he said.

  Nancy hurried into the hall. “It’s Terry Scott,” she called, and opened the door.

  The pale young man, a bandage on his head, entered the living room and smiled wryly. “Good morning,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t look very presentable.”

  “Oh, it was dreadful, that man assaulting you,” Bess spoke up.

  “Sorry to hear it,” added Mr. Drew. “Any clue to your attacker?”

  “No,” Terry replied. “The hotel detective and the police checked my room.”

  “Any idea who the man was?” Nancy asked.

  Terry shrugged. “If Juarez Tino hadn’t gone to Florida, I’d suspect him. But I can’t think of anyone else.”

  Bess decided to change the subject to something more pleasant. “Terry, do you speak any of the Mexican languages?” she asked.

  “Why, yes, I do. Spanish, and a couple of Indian dialects. That’s one of the reasons Dr. Pitt and the others chose me to go to Mexico.”

  “Nancy says you almost found a fortune down there,” Bess said. “What was it?”

  Terry smiled. “I suspect the treasure will be one or more frogs.”

  “Frogs?” cried the two girls together.

  The young professor nodded. “In certain ancient civilizations the frog was sacred, just as the cow is sacred in many parts of India today. Because of its religious meaning, the frog symbol was used frequently by craftsmen.

  “Many of these frogs were made of silver, some of them inlaid with precious stones. A collection of such jeweled pieces would be worth a fortune.”

  “How did you learn about the—the frogs?” Bess asked.

  “An ancient monument in Mexico carries a message in an unknown language,” Terry answered. “It’s all in pictures. The Indians call it the Mystery Stone, and say it tells where a fabulous treasure is buried. It is called the Frog Treasure, and according to legend, it is locked away in silver by three ‘magic’ obsidian keys.”

  “And I have half of one?” Nancy asked.

  Terry nodded. “I’m hoping against hope that the treasure can’t be unlocked without this missing piece, even if someone else locates the place.”

  “Please tell the whole story from the beginning,” Bess begged. “Couldn’t any Mexicans read the Mystery Stone?”

  “No. They knew only the legend. Late one afternoon Dr. Pitt and I dug up a small stone tablet—the one I told you about, Nancy. From photographs we had of the Mystery Stone monument, we saw that one side of the tablet had the same picture writing as the monument.

  “On the reverse side of the tablet, the ciphers had been translated into one of the ancient Indian dialects, which I know. With the help of the tablet we could solve the mystery! But, as you know, the tablet vanished.”

  “What about the three keys? Where did you find them?” Nancy asked.

  “They were on a silver ring. This was fastened to th
e tablet through a hole bored in one end of it. I knew at once that they were the ‘magic’ keys of the legend.”

  “But the cipher stone was stolen—and the keys with it!” Bess exclaimed.

  “And what’s more important, Dr. Pitt vanished at the same time. It’s his fate that’s worrying me more than anything else. This morning I began to wonder if there might be some superstition about the Frog Treasure which the natives fear and are afraid that we will discover. This might be a reason for holding the doctor.”

  “Have you any idea what the superstition might be?” Nancy asked.

  From an inner pocket Terry Scott pulled out a crude drawing. “I found this in Dr. Pitt’s tent the next morning,” he said.

  There were actually three drawings which formed a triangle: at the lower left, a frog; at the right, what appeared to be the prostrate figure of a man; and at the top, a symbol representing the sun.

  “What do they mean?” Bess asked.

  Terry said he had not figured it out. But he was sure the riddle could be solved and Professor Pitt found.

  “You see why I need the services of a good lawyer, Mr. Drew,” he said, “and also the help of a good detective like your daughter. Can’t we start work at once?”

  Carson Drew was thoughtful a moment. “It looks as if solving this mystery will have to be done in Mexico,” he mused.

  Turning to his daughter, he said, “I’m afraid, Nancy dear, that in this case you’ve started something you can’t finish at this time—unless you go to Mexico. I can’t spare you as far away from home as that, and besides, I have some work of my own for you to do in the next few days.”

  CHAPTER IV

  Suspicion

  NANCY looked at her father in surprise, but did not argue the point. She knew he would not have asked her to turn down Terry Scott’s case without good reason.

  The young man showed his disappointment, but smiled politely. “Well, you can’t blame me for trying, sir,” he said, getting up from his chair. “Your daughter seemed to be the very person I needed to help me.”

  Nancy gave the mysterious drawing a last-minute look. “Have the other professors any idea what these signs mean?” she asked.