The Clue in the Jewel Box

  “If you find her grandson, no favor will be too great to ask.” The shop owner smiled. “Yes, you must see the wonderful contents of her Easter egg. The gift was presented to her by her son, the king.”

  “A king?” Nancy repeated in bewilderment. “Then Mrs. Alexandra—”

  Mr. Faber looked a bit dismayed. “You did not know?”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Madame Alexandra prefers that no special deference be shown her,” Mr. Faber explained. “She does not mind if a few discreet people know who she is, but if her true identity became known to everyone, she would be subjected to the kind of publicity she wishes to avoid.”

  “I understand. I’ll do everything I can to help her,” Nancy promised.

  A few minutes later she left the shop, still excited by the amazing story Mr. Faber had told her. She went directly to police headquarters.

  To her disappointment, no record had been made of Francis Baum’s address because he had got his wallet back immediately after it had been stolen. Chief McGinnis said he would instruct the officer who had seen Baum to be on watch for him.

  Throughout the afternoon she searched diligently for the mysterious stranger, making many inquiries. At length, weariness and hunger forced her into a snack shop not far from the river docks.

  “Finding Francis Baum isn’t going to be as easy as I thought,” she reflected, biting into a toasted cheese sandwich.

  Through a window Nancy absently watched a ferryboat tie up at the dock. Passengers alighted, and others boarded the vessel.

  Suddenly her gaze was drawn to a young man who looked familiar. The thief who had snatched Francis Baum’s wallet!

  Nancy quickly paid her check and left the shop. As she gazed down the street, the young detective saw the man board the ferry.

  “There he goes!” she thought excitedly, then reflected, “Or is he the man who was mistaken for the thief?”

  Before Nancy could decide whether or not to follow him, the boat’s whistle warned her that the ferry was about to leave. There was no time to think further—the man would escape if she did not act instantly.

  Running as fast as she could, Nancy reached the dock a moment before the gate closed. She hurriedly bought a ticket, then dashed aboard the crowded deck. The ropes were cast off and the vessel edged away.

  The young detective gazed about in search of her quarry. To her annoyance he was not in sight.

  “But he’s aboard,” Nancy said to herself.

  She looked at the indoor lunch counter, but there was no sign of the pickpocket. Disappointed, she returned to the deck.

  During the past few minutes there had been a sudden change in the weather. Now Nancy was nearly blown off her feet by a strong gust of wind.

  As the boat churned through the choppy waves, Nancy scanned the clouds. They were black. She began to shiver in her thin sleeveless dress.

  A few moments later, however, the young detective completely forgot her discomfort. She had caught a glimpse of the suspect near the port railing!

  Before she could reach the man, a huge wave struck the ferryboat. Passengers were thrown off balance. Several women screamed.

  The next instant there was a blinding flash of lightning, followed by a heavy roll of thunder. Rain came down in a torrent, blotting out all view of the river.

  Gasping, Nancy tried to find shelter in the cabin, but others ahead of her jammed the passageway. In the milling throng she could no longer see the man she was following.

  Suddenly, from off the port bow, came the deepthroated whistle of an oncoming boat. The ferry swerved sharply to avoid a collision, but not in time.

  There was a terrific impact as the two craft crashed into each other. Flung sideways, Nancy went rolling down the tilted deck.

  CHAPTER III

  A Lost Formula

  STRUGGLING to her feet, Nancy grasped the railing for support. Children were crying. Men and women were yelling as passengers trapped in the cabin fought to escape.

  “Keep cool!” shouted a deck hand, trying to avert a panic. “We’ll reach the dock safely.”

  Nancy repeated his message to those about her. She helped people to their feet, and tried to comfort the children.

  When it was evident that the vessel had not been damaged below the water line, the passengers calmed down. But they jammed the decks while the crippled boat glided slowly toward River Heights.

  Recalling why she had come aboard, Nancy gazed about, searching once more for the suspected thief. She decided it was hopeless to locate him in the crowd. But just as the ferryboat grated against the dock, she saw him.

  He was standing close to a man whose right leg had been injured. To her disgust, the suspect stealthily reached his hand into the other’s coat pocket and removed a billfold. Now she was convinced he was the man who had stolen Francis Baum’s wallet.

  “Stop thief!” Nancy shouted, but amid the commotion her warning went unheeded.

  She tried to force her way forward, but the crowd kept her from moving more than a few feet. By now the boat was ready to discharge passengers. The thief was the first to disembark.

  By the time she reached the dock, he had vanished. Nancy was dismayed. “But at least I can supply the police with an accurate description of the pickpocket,” she thought. “He’s about thirty, medium height, has brown hair, and walks with short, quick steps.”

  She saw an officer and told him about the pickpocket. He wrote everything in his report book and thanked her.

  It was still raining, so Nancy took a taxi home. She rang the bell at the side door. Mrs. Gruen, middle-aged and kindly, opened the door and gasped at the girl’s appearance.

  “Nancy, where have you been?” she asked. “Will you never learn to carry an umbrella?”

  “Never.” The young detective laughed, kicking off her water-soaked shoes on the cellar stairway landing.

  “Did you have a good lunch?” the housekeeper asked.

  “No, just a sandwich,” Nancy replied. “But please don’t worry about that. It must be nearly dinnertime.”

  “It is,” Mrs. Gruen said. “And if I am not mistaken, there’s your father now.”

  A car had turned into the driveway. Nancy hurried to her room, changed into dry clothes, and ran down the stairs to greet him.

  “Why, Dad!” she exclaimed. “What’s wrong? You look mad enough to eat someone.”

  “I’ve lost an extra wallet I was carrying,” Mr. Drew said shortly. “I’m afraid it was stolen.”

  “Stolen! How did it happen?” Nancy asked.

  “I’m not absolutely certain. I didn’t miss it until an hour ago.”

  “You didn’t lose much money, I hope.”

  “A good bit—not to mention several important notations. The money wasn’t mine,” Mr. Drew explained. “It was a donation to the River Heights Boys Club.”

  “That’s a shame. Perhaps you dropped the wallet, and it will be returned,” Nancy suggested.

  “I’m sure it was stolen. In fact, I recall that at noon, when I stood in line at a cafeteria, a man directly behind kept brushing against me.”

  “What did he look like, Dad?”

  “I didn’t take particular notice. A fellow of medium height with brown hair.”

  “Did he walk with short, quick steps?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Drew replied. “He got out of line and hurried off. Why all these questions?”

  His daughter related her experiences of the day. Mr. Drew agreed that probably the pickpocket was the same man who had taken his extra wallet.

  “Dad, I’ll recognize that thief if ever I see him again,” Nancy concluded. “Would you like me to capture him for you?”

  “Indeed I would,” her father replied grimly. “But let’s think about something nicer—the picnic, for instance.”

  “What picnic?” Nancy inquired in surprise.

  “Didn’t I tell you? Some of my associates have arranged a father-daughter outing at Walden Park. We’re a little b
it late. I phoned Hannah. She’ll have everything ready for us.”

  In the kitchen Nancy found the housekeeper tucking a Thermos into a well-filled food hamper.

  “I can’t wait to dig into this,” Nancy said as she glanced over the contents.

  Fortunately the late-afternoon sun was drying the ground quickly. Mr. Drew’s good humor returned as he walked with Nancy to the park. Upon arriving, they found a group of River Heights lawyers and their daughters.

  The Drews were given an enthusiastic welcome but teased about being late. When the men heard the story of the stolen wallet, they became concerned.

  “During the past two weeks,” declared one of them, “River Heights has had an alarming increase in petty thievery. It’s time something was done.”

  “You’re right,” Mr. Drew agreed. “Well, my daughter says she’s going to catch the pickpocket who took my wallet.”

  “And she probably will,” said Ida Trevor, who greatly admired the young detective.

  Nancy smiled, then said, “At any rate, I’d like to get back the money for the Boys Club.”

  Following the picnic supper, there were games of competition for the fathers and their daughters. Victory crowned the efforts of the Drews in several contests.

  They lost a short race, however, to Judge and Marian Howells. As the Howells crossed the finish line, a compact that the judge was keeping for his daughter fell from his pocket. The enamel cover broke in half.

  “There, I’ve done it!” the man exclaimed. “Why can’t our girls have pockets large enough for their beauty gadgets?”

  “What we need is an enamel which is noncrackable,” said Mr. Drew.

  The judge replied, “Many years ago such an enamel was developed. But unfortunately the process is not known today.”

  Launching into the history of various enamel processes, he told of its early use by the Egyptians, Babylonians, and Romans.

  “There was a revival of the art in the nineteenth century, and beautiful, unbreakable pieces were made. But that method has been lost, too.”

  “Do you suppose it will ever be recovered?” Nancy asked.

  “Oh, it may turn up sometime,” the judge said, “and bring its finder great riches.”

  Nancy enjoyed the picnic and was sorry when it ended. But the adventures of the day had given her much to mull over before she fell asleep. After church services the following day, her thoughts once more turned to the lost prince and the secret in the Easter egg.

  At breakfast Monday morning, while Nancy was sipping orange juice, the mail arrived. One letter was addressed to Nancy. Mrs. Alexandra’s name was in the upper left-hand comer. With mounting interest Nancy opened it.

  “Oh, Hannah, what an unexpected surprise! I’m invited to tea at four this afternoon at Mrs. Alexandra’s!” she cried. “Bess and George too!”

  “That’s nice,” the housekeeper said absently.

  “It will be exciting, I’m sure! Mrs. Alexandra may show us the contents of her wonderful Easter egg!”

  Enthusiastically Nancy ran to telephone George and Bess. A lengthy discussion of what to wear followed and how to act in the presence of royalty.

  “I suggest,” Mrs. Gruen advised, overhearing the conversation, “that you just act naturally.”

  Exactly at four o’clock the invited guests presented themselves at Mrs. Alexandra’s home. Because they now knew of their hostess’s intriguing background, Bess and George felt less at ease than on their first meeting. But they soon relaxed because Mrs. Alexandra was most gracious.

  “I am glad that you went to see Mr. Faber, Nancy,” she said, smiling. “He told me on the telephone you had been there.

  “Mr. Faber also said that unwittingly he had revealed my identity to you,” the woman went on. “I beg of you girls not to mention this to anyone. I came to your lovely town to avoid publicity.”

  “Is that why no one addresses you as Your Majesty, Mrs. Alexandra?” asked Bess. “It’s customary, isn’t it?”

  “In my country, yes,” the former queen replied. “When I came to your shores, I decided to adopt the customs here. So now I am Mrs. Alexandra. But Anna cannot accept this. We compromised.” Lines of amusement showed around the corners of the royal lady’s mouth. “Now Anna addresses me as Madame Marie.”

  With the arrival of tea, Nancy and her friends tried not to stare at the handsome silver service which Anna placed before her mistress. Engraved on one side of the teapot was a pheasant, while on the other was a monogram, combined with a golden royal crown.

  To the amazement of the girls, Anna washed each cup and saucer in a silver basin, then carefully dried the lovely china pieces with a dainty lace-bordered linen towel before handing them to her mistress.

  “An Old World custom,” Mrs. Alexandra explained, her eyes twinkling. “The towel Anna uses was hand-loomed by a dear friend. You see it has my initials with the royal insignia above it.”

  As the girls sipped tea and ate delicious little cakes, their hostess chatted about her art treasures. She seemed particularly fond of a beautiful gold-and-blue tapestry showing a gay ballet scene.

  “This piece was woven especially for me when I resided in the palace,” she told the girls. “I value it almost as highly as the Easter egg.”

  Nancy’s gaze went swiftly to the cabinet where the exquisite little ornament stood on its gold pedestal. She longed to learn its secret, yet hesitated to make the request.

  “Anna, please bring the Easter egg to me,” Mrs. Alexandra requested, almost as if she had read Nancy’s thoughts.

  The servant removed the object from the curio cabinet, then carefully placed it on a mahogany table in front of her mistress.

  “Now I shall show you a truly remarkable treasure,” Mrs. Alexandra said softly.

  CHAPTER IV

  Royal Treasures

  As Nancy, Bess, and George waited expectantly, Mrs. Alexandra raised the lid of the enamel Easter egg. Rising from a nest of velvet was a tiny tree made of emeralds. A delicately fashioned golden nightingale was perched on a branch.

  “How lovely!” Bess exclaimed in awe.

  Mrs. Alexandra pressed a concealed spring and the nightingale began to sing. The song was brief and somewhat artificial, but nevertheless amazing. Nancy thought she detected words and repeated them to herself. Then she decided she must be mistaken since Mrs. Alexandra did not mention them. The former queen said, “I treasure this bird not only for itself, but because it was given to me by my son. It was only a short time before his untimely death,” she added. “It is my hope that someday I will find my grandson and pass it on to him. Michael would be nearly thirty years old now.”

  Nancy had not intended to tell the story of Francis Baum, fearing that it might prove to be another disappointment to the former queen. Shortly, however, Mrs. Alexandra revealed that Michael’s nurse had had a photograph of the boy identical to the miniature she possessed. Excitedly Nancy told about meeting with the young man and the picture she had found.

  “Perhaps he is my grandson!” the woman declared in an agitated voice. “Tell me, did he resemble the boy in the photograph?”

  Nancy was compelled to reply that she had noticed no similarity.

  “Please find him!” Mrs. Alexandra urged. “Even if he is not Michael, he may know what has become of him.” Nancy promised to do everything possible to trace the missing prince.

  After the girls had left the house, Bess remarked, “I feel as if I had been dreaming. What did you think of the Easter egg, Nancy?”

  “It’s beautiful,” she replied. “But to tell the truth, I was a bit disappointed. The nightingale didn’t sing as it should have.”

  “I noticed the same thing!” George agreed. “It didn’t even sound like a bird.”

  Nancy returned thoughtfully, “Oh, well, the work was perfect otherwise. Who are we to criticize royal treasure?” She laughed. “My job is to find Francis Baum.”

  Upon reaching home Nancy wrote down the incomplete name and addre
ss which she had glimpsed on the card in the young man’s wallet. Curiously she stared at the letters:

  thson

  ter St.

  “If I can only fill these out, I may be able to contact someone who knows Mr. Baum.”

  Nancy pored over the telephone directory, eliminating name after name. Finally she came to one that seemed to be a good possibility—J. J. Smithson, 25 Oster Street.

  “That might be worth investigating.”

  The next afternoon she walked with Bess and George to Oster Street in the business section.

  J. J. Smithson proved to be the owner of a small leather-goods shop. He readily answered Nancy’s questions. Francis Baum had worked for him only a few days. “He didn’t like this kind of work,” the man said. “I haven’t seen Baum since the day he quit, but I believe he still lives at Mrs. Kent’s guesthouse nearby.”

  Nancy obtained the address, and the girls continued on. Mrs. Kent, the landlady, repeated Francis Baum’s name, then shook her head.

  “He was here,” she said, “but moved out.”

  “Did he leave a forwarding address?” Nancy asked.

  “No, he didn’t. I’ll tell you how you might trace him, though. He sends his laundry to the Eagle Home Service.”

  “Isn’t that across the river?” Nancy inquired.

  “Yes, it is—a long distance from here.”

  The girls thanked Mrs. Kent for the information, then discussed what they should do.

  “Let’s go by ferryboat tomorrow,” Bess suggested, and the others agreed.

  On the way home Nancy chose a route past the old apartment building where the pickpocket had nearly been caught.

  “You don’t expect him to be here!” Bess gasped.

  “It won’t hurt to look,” Nancy replied.

  Windows on the lower floor were wide open. As the girls slowly passed one of them, they heard angry voices coming from inside.

  “You can’t hide here!” a man shouted.

  “Sounds like an argument,” said George.

  “You know the police may be watching this place!” the man cried out. “You’re not going to get me into trouble! Clear out!”