The Clue of the Black Keys

  Nancy notified the police. Then she hurried back to Hannah.

  “Shall I call a doctor?” she asked anxiously.

  The woman shook her head. “All I’ve got are bruises—and a bump on my head.”

  “Did he hit you with something?”

  “No. I heard him trying to open the front door lock, so I waited in the dark. I thought if he got in, he’d run into that line, and I’d nab him. But I wasn’t quick enough. When he hit those pans, one of them caught me on the head and dazed me a bit. That’s why I didn’t see where he went.”

  Nancy brought a washcloth wrung out in ice water and bathed Mrs. Gruen’s swollen forehead.

  “My, that feels good,” the housekeeper said.

  Nancy asked why the strange burglar alarm had been put up.

  “I had an idea someone might visit us,” the woman confessed. “I rigged an alarm at each door and window on the first floor.”

  Nancy slipped into the hall to remove Hannah’s alarm system. Her eye caught a small sheet of paper lying just inside the front door and she picked it up. Printed boldly in pencil was a warning message. It read:

  NO MORE INTERFERENCE OR THERE WILL BE TROUBLE FOR YOU

  “What are you doing?” Hannah asked.

  Nancy returned to the living room and read the message aloud. She remarked that the note might have been written by Juarez Tino. Not wishing to alarm the housekeeper, however, she added quickly, “It may not be for you or me. Dad makes enemies in his legal work, you know. Some crank could have written it.”

  Hannah started to speak, but Nancy patted her arm and continued, “You were a darling—and brave, too—to rig up that burglar alarm and lie in wait. You almost caught him!”

  Just then the shriek of brakes and tramping footsteps told her that the police had arrived. Nancy ushered Sergeant Malloy and two of his men into the hall, explaining what had happened. She showed them the note.

  While the police busied themselves taking footprints and fingerprints, Nancy decided to look outside. Taking her pocket flashlight, she went to the porch and peered over the railing.

  The beam of her light revealed two slips of paper caught in a barberry bush. Undoubtedly the intruder had dropped them. Excitedly Nancy examined them. One contained the number 74772. On the other was printed “5 x 7 and one.”

  Nancy returned to the hall and copied the notations, then handed the slips to the police.

  “I’ll work on them. They’re a good clue,” Sergeant Malloy said.

  When the officers had concluded their investigation, the sergeant told Nancy and Hannah he would send a plainclothesman to watch the house.

  After the police left, Hannah and Nancy returned to bed for a few more hours of sleep. The following morning Nancy was awakened by the ringing of the telephone. She was delighted when she recognized the deep voice of her father.

  “How’s everything?” he asked.

  When Nancy told him what had happened during the night, Carson Drew expressed concern.

  “My plane will get in this afternoon,” he said. “In the meantime, I advise you not to go out of the house alone. And look after Hannah. That experience must have been a severe shock to her.”

  Nancy promised to do as he suggested, and as soon as she had dressed, insisted upon preparing breakfast alone.

  Hannah protested at first, but at last gratefully sat down to read the morning paper. After eating, Nancy tidied the dining room and kitchen. She was just putting away the last plate when Bess Marvin popped into the kitchen.

  “I can’t believe my eyes! You in that apron—and Hannah sitting on the sun porch reading at nine o’clock in the morning!”

  Nancy grinned. “Did she tell you about the excitement last night?”

  “Yes,” Bess said. “And you know what I think? You ought to have a bodyguard.”

  Leading her friend to a window, Nancy pointed out a slender man in a gray suit and a soft hat walking near the driveway entrance.

  “One of the plainclothesmen the police sent. It makes me feel very important.”

  Bess giggled. “As if you were an heiress with a pile of diamonds in your bureau drawer.”

  “It’s a black key, instead,” Nancy countered. “And only half of one, at that.”

  “When’s your dad coming home?” Bess asked. When she heard he would arrive that afternoon, she added, “That’s good news. You should celebrate. I’ll help you get dinner. Let me make a pie.”

  Shortly before noon Bess was in the kitchen beating up the meringue for a mountainous lemon pie. Nancy was seated on a stool beside her, but she was not watching the pie making. She was studying the mysterious numbers she had found in the shrubbery the night before.

  The “5 x 7 and one” completely stymied her. It suggested nothing at all. The 74772 was easier. The 7 she thought, might be a River Heights telephone exchange. Whose number could 4772 be?

  Suddenly she had an idea. With an excited gasp, Nancy jumped off the stool and rushed into the hall. Quickly she thumbed through the River Heights telephone directory to the W’s.

  Her hunch was correct. River Heights 7-4772 was listed as the Wangells’ number! She rushed back to the kitchen and told Bess.

  “How on earth did you figure that out?” the plump girl gasped.

  Nancy said she had wondered ever since hearing about the diary why Mrs. Wangell had picked Terry to translate it. The whole thing was clear now.

  “There’s some connection between the Wangells and at least one of Terry’s enemies,” Nancy explained.

  “The one who came here last night and dropped the pieces of paper!” Bess exclaimed. “Oh, Nancy, this is awful!”

  “I must warn Terry,” Nancy said. “I hope he’s at the Parkview.”

  Her heart was pounding excitedly as she telephoned the hotel.

  “I was just going to call you, Nancy,” Terry said. “I worked all morning on Mrs. Wangell’s diary, and ...”

  “Then she let you borrow it?”

  “No, but I took some pictures with your camera. The black keys we found in Mexico are mentioned in the diary!”

  Nancy was so surprised at Terry’s news that she forgot to mention her own discovery.

  “I want to see the pictures,” she cried. “Bess and I are having lunch here in half an hour. Will you join us?”

  Terry thought this a splendid idea. Nancy asked him to try covering his tracks so his enemies would not know where he was going. Half an hour later he arrived.

  Lunch was a merry affair, but directly afterward Nancy talked to him seriously about the scraps of paper she had found. Terry could make nothing of the “5 x 7 and one” notation.

  “So your would-be burglar had the Wangells’ number.” The young professor whistled. “I can’t stop going there now,” he continued. “I’m just beginning to get some valuable facts from the diary. Wait until you see what I brought.”

  He opened a briefcase and laid several photographs and carbon copies of notes on the table.

  “At your suggestion, Nancy,” he said, “I left my notes with the diary. Mrs. Wangell doesn’t know I have these copies.”

  “Good.”

  Terry said that most of the diary was a puzzle to him.

  Nancy picked up several of the pictures and studied them. “Will you leave them with me for a while?” she asked. “Perhaps I can find the answer.”

  “I’d certainly like to have you try,” Terry replied. “But here’s one I did figure out,” he said, handing it over.

  The photograph was of page seventy-six in the diary. The upper half of the sheet was covered by handwriting. On the lower part was the rough drawing of a key. Nancy read the strange text:

  “In this sodden wilderness I met a curious character, a Swamp Indian. He told me of the hiding place of Treasure, and of three Black Keys that would unlock the Secret of the Ages.”

  Nancy could not make out the next sentence. It seemed to be in a foreign language. When she asked Terry about it, he said it was in In
dian dialect. When translated, it meant:

  “If Fortune be kind, the Sun and Raindrop keys will help me find this secret myself.”

  Underneath the text was the faded outline of a key. Examining it carefully, Nancy could see a design on the stem. One of the symbols in the design looked like the sun. The other could symbolize rain.

  “I’ll get your half-key, Terry, and we’ll compare them.”

  Nancy got the key and placed it beside the one in the photograph. The lower half of the one in the picture and the relic Terry had brought from Mexico were identical!

  “Are there any other references to the black keys?” Nancy asked excitedly.

  Terry nodded and picked up a page of notes he said had come from pages ninety and one hundred.

  “Here is something I translated from the Spanish. It says, ‘Today I heard another story about the Keys of Sun and Raindrop. Whoever finds the secret may be Ruler of Mankind,’ and listen to this!‘Look for the Frog.’ ”

  “It’s the same Frog Treasure mentioned on the Mystery Stone!” Nancy exclaimed.

  “It looks that way,” Terry agreed.

  Bess was rereading the text above the key drawing. “Where is the ‘sodden wilderness’? And who is the ‘Swamp Indian’?” she asked.

  Terry said he wished he knew. If it were true that a sea captain owned the diary, even though he was not Mrs. Wangell’s grandfather, there was no way to prove it. If a name had ever been in the book, someone had torn it out, along with several other pages.

  “I suspect Mrs. Wangell did the tearing,” Bess decided. “She probably didn’t want to be caught lying about the diary’s owner.”

  Terry said the rest of the notes he had made that day were interesting, but he doubted if they had any bearing on the mystery.

  “Terry, it’s important you go on with what you’re doing. Only now, translating and deciphering the diary is just part of your job.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’re to become a detective.”

  “A—what?”

  Nancy bobbed her head seriously. “The Wangells are dishonest. That’s been proved. They need you for translating the diary. But once you’ve given them what they want, you won’t be safe.”

  Terry stared, unbelieving. Nancy went on to say that it was necessary to find out more about what they were up to, before the work on the diary was finished.

  “It isn’t hard to do some simple sleuthing,” she said encouragingly. “You see, it’s not just the big things—like the diary—that are important. If you want to solve your mystery, you should start noticing the little things, too. For instance,” Nancy went on, “did you notice the mail in the hall as you came in?”

  “Good grief, no! Am I supposed to?”

  “Of course. Postmarks and return addresses are important clues. How about the pad on the telephone desk? Any messages?”

  “That’s snooping.”

  “I’m afraid a good detective has to snoop,” Nancy said.

  Suddenly the young professor remembered something. His eyes widened, and he leaned forward excitedly.

  “Maybe I do notice things after all,” he said.

  “What?” both girls asked at once.

  “This morning at the Wangells’,” Terry said, “while I was in the study, Mrs. Wangell made a telephone call. I just happened to overhear part of it.”

  “Whom was she calling?” Nancy asked.

  “I don’t know. But she said, ‘I won’t forget. The name’s King.’ She laughed with sort of a sneer, and added, ‘Some king he is!’ Then she hung up.”

  “You are a detective, Terry!” Nancy praised the young professor. “The ‘King’ Mrs. Wangell mentioned must be Conway King—the name Juarez Tino uses!”

  CHAPTER IX

  Terry Disappears

  TERRY smiled. “That seems to prove the Tinos and Mrs. Wangell are in league.”

  “Keep your eyes open and make sure of that,” Nancy begged him. “Try to find out how the Wangells got that diary.”

  Later that afternoon, when Terry and Bess had gone, Nancy again studied the photographs of the drawings. When her father arrived, she put them aside and went to greet him.

  “Oh, it’s so good to have you back!” Nancy exclaimed, giving him a hug and a kiss. “You should see the pie Bess made to celebrate your homecoming.”

  Carson Drew sighed. “In that case I’ll have to stay home and not leave until tomorrow.”

  “Leave?” Nancy cried. “But, Dad, I have so much to tell you about Terry’s mystery. I saw Dr. Anderson, and I think we’ve found another clue in an old diary.”

  She accompanied the lawyer to the living-room sofa, then proceeded with her story.

  “Well, you have been busy,” her father said. “Good results, too. I guess there’s no reason now why you shouldn’t work on Terry’s case. And I have news of my own,” he added.

  Upon returning to his office, Mr. Drew had found a letter from a man in Baltimore. Caswell P. Breed claimed to be a cousin of the missing Dr. Pitt and demanded a share in any money he might have left.

  “Dad!” Nancy exclaimed. “How did he know you’re Dr. Pitt’s lawyer?”

  Mr. Drew said this was exactly what he intended to find out. “Since I have to go to Baltimore anyway, in connection with another case, I’ll look up Breed,” he said.

  Nancy strongly suspected that Breed was not really Pitt’s cousin, and told her father so.

  “Well, real or not,” he said, “I’m going to Baltimore. I’d like you to go along and help me, and also meet some friends.”

  “I’d love to. But first, I want to tell Terry about this Breed person. Maybe he knows him, or Dr. Pitt might have mentioned him.”

  Nancy quickly telephoned Terry. He was amazed to hear about the letter. The young man had never heard of Breed.

  As Nancy put down the telephone, a thought struck her. “Dad,” she said, “what gave Breed the idea that Dr. Pitt is dead?”

  Mr. Drew looked at Nancy admiringly. “That’s something I must find out.”

  The lawyer wired ahead for hotel reservations. After dinner he and Nancy boarded an evening plane for Baltimore. On the way Nancy told her father that plainclothesmen were watching the house.

  “Just the same I brought the mysterious pictures with me, and the half-key.”

  “Good idea,” the lawyer said.

  At nine-thirty the next morning Nancy and her father taxied to a ramshackle dwelling situated next to a factory. C. P. Breed was inscribed on a card nailed above the knocker.

  The door was opened by an old man. Mr. Drew introduced himself and Nancy, saying he was the lawyer from River Heights and would like to hear more about Mr. Breed’s claim.

  The man stroked his whiskered chin, and limping, led the way into the sitting room. “I’ll talk to y’all,” he said in a high-pitched voice, “but I won’t give up the claim. Doc said not to.”

  Nancy glanced at her father. “When did you last see your cousin?” she asked Mr. Breed.

  The old man scratched his head. “He ain’t no cousin o’ mine. He’s my doc, an’ a good one, sure enough. Fixed my broken leg what I got at the factory. An’ he told me not to give up my claim to any o’ you lawyers.”

  “There must be some mistake,” Mr. Drew said. He took the letter from his pocket and handed it to the old man. “Did you write this?”

  Mr. Breed pulled a pair of spectacles from his vest pocket, adjusted them on his nose, and peered at the letter.

  “This is me an’ it ain’t me,” he said. “Breed’s my name, but I don’t know Dr. Pitt an’ I ain’t his cousin, an’ I didn’t write this.”

  “Do you know who could have sent it?” Nancy asked.

  The man said he did not have the slightest idea, adding testily, “But I’d like to get hold o’ the person who used my name!”

  As his callers rose to leave, he accompanied them to the door.

  On a hunch Nancy asked him if he knew any people named Scott
, Graham, Anderson, Tino, King, Porterly, and Wangell. The answer was No in each case.

  “You didn’t leave out one,” the lawyer teased his daughter as they rode off. “But I know what’s in your mind; that one of them wanted to work some scheme while we were away, and sent that letter to get us out of town. Which one do you suspect?”

  “Juarez Tino,” Nancy replied quickly. “I’m sure he’s the ringleader of that group. We’d better phone home and see if anything has happened.”

  “You take over while I go to the courthouse,” Mr. Drew suggested.

  For the next three hours Nancy kept busy at the hotel. First she telephoned Hannah Gruen to be sure everything was all right.

  “Yes,” the housekeeper replied. “Now stop worrying, honey.”

  “Be extra careful,” Nancy warned, and told Mrs. Gruen about the fake letter.

  Nancy next turned her attention to the photographs Terry had made of the diary pages. There were nine of them, and not one of the strange drawings suggested a picture.

  Then Nancy had an idea. She bought a pad of thin tracing paper, and cut nine sheets to the exact dimensions of the photographs. On each sheet she made a careful tracing of one of the drawings, using India ink.

  Laying aside the original photographs, Nancy began to juggle the sheets around. She shuffled and rearranged them.

  Very soon she began to make discoveries. The meaningless lines on three of the drawings, placed one beneath another, suddenly became a picture. Nancy could see a tangle of trees, a large pool of water, and a winding path.

  It was the picture, Nancy thought, of some remote tropical wilderness!

  She searched for other dues. One of the trees seemed lopsided. It was fan-shaped, like a traveler’s palm. But the palm had been neatly split in half!

  Was that half-tree a clue? Nancy excitedly searched through the rest of the drawings. At last she found what she was looking for—the other half of the fan-shaped tree.

  Edging the two sheets together to complete the tree, she made another discovery. The sheets placed together completed another picture.