The Clue in the Old Album

  “Wait until Anton and Nitaka hear that!” Nancy said, hoping to trap him into betraying an association with the couple.

  “Anton and Nitaka!” The man spoke the words involuntarily, a look of dismay crossing his face.

  “You three work for the king, don’t you?” Nancy quizzed him.

  The gypsy’s eyes blazed. “What do you know about the king?” he demanded.

  “More than you think!” she replied. “And you were so afraid I’d have you arrested, you sent me a warning note, and then tried to shove my car off the road and injure me so I couldn’t work on the Struthers case.”

  The gypsy, still protesting his innocence, was taken to police headquarters for further questioning. There he stubbornly maintained a stony silence. The only time he spoke was when one of the officers asked him if he wanted a lawyer, or would like to get in touch with anyone he knew.

  “No!” the thief snapped. “Leave me alone!”

  Nancy took Mrs. Struthers to the police station the next morning to prefer charges against him. Even then the prisoner refused to admit anything or tell them what he had done with the contents of the woman’s bag.

  “He’ll talk after he’s been here a few days,” an officer told Nancy knowingly.

  When she returned home a little later, Nancy found Ned Nickerson on the porch swing. He listened attentively to Nancy’s vivid account of the purse snatcher’s capture.

  “Nice going, Nancy,” he observed, “but how about playing a little for a change? One crook in jail is enough for any detective! I have two days off at the beginning of the week.”

  Nancy smiled. “Fine idea! Let’s go on a boat ride on the river Monday if it’s clear.”

  “Great!”

  When Ned arrived at eleven o’clock Monday morning, Nancy handed him a tempting lunch hamper. “How about a couple of Dad’s fishing rods? Shall we take them?” she asked.

  “Swell idea. I’ll get them.”

  Fifteen minutes later Nancy and Ned were on their way. He made one stop to buy bait and in a short time they reached a motorboat rental dock. Ned selected one, and soon the grinning couple were headed downstream.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “Dad says there’s good fishing in Pilot’s Cove,” Nancy replied.

  Ned turned the boat in that direction and by the time they reached the spot, they were both ready for the generous lunch Hannah had packed. They fished that afternoon and enjoyed competing with each other. When they finally reeled in their lines, Ned had five trout and Nancy three.

  “What’ll we do with all these fish?” Nancy laughed, as Ned started the motorboat.

  “We might call on the Wyatts,” he suggested. “They have a cottage not far from here.”

  “You mean Hazel and Bill?” Nancy asked, referring to a young engineer and his wife, who had been married only a short time.

  “Yes.”

  “I’d love to see them,” Nancy agreed.

  Ned rowed toward the channel of the Muskoka River. Four miles south, they tied up in front of a small picturesque stone house perched on a hillside overlooking the water. To their delight, they found the Wyatts at home.

  “Well, it’s about time you came to see us!” Hazel greeted them enthusiastically. “You’re staying to dinner too. No excuses!”

  “Thanks, we will,” Ned accepted. “And here’s part of our meal,” he added, presenting Hazel with the fish.

  For an hour the young people sat on the stone terrace, chatting and sipping frosty cool drinks. Bill spoke of his interesting work in the manufacture of television apparatus and said, “I want you to see our set. It’s the last word in television.”

  “Any good programs on now?” Hazel asked. “This time is usually given over to children’s stories. Adult shows come on later.”

  Bill scanned a TV schedule. Finally he said, “There’s to be a Thomas Smith on at eight o’clock. Someone at the studio says he’s good. Plays the violin. He has never been televised before.”

  Nancy was interested at once. “Let’s tune in to that program,” she suggested.

  A little before eight Bill turned on the set. Nancy and Ned marveled at the clarity of the images on the screen and the natural sound of the actors’ voices. When the next program came on, an announcer introduced Thomas Smith. The artist walked to the center of the stage and put his violin under his chin.

  He had played only the first few notes of the “Gypsy Love Song,” when Nancy cried out, “Romano Pepito!”

  “You know him?” Hazel Wyatt exclaimed.

  “Only from his picture,” Nancy answered. “I’ve been trying to find him. It’s terribly important that I talk to him. If I were only at that studio right now!”

  Bill jumped up. “I’ll call the station and ask that the man be kept there until you can drive over,” he offered. “Take our car.”

  Nancy and Ned waited only long enough to make sure the station manager knew they were en route to meet the violinist. Then, with a thirty-mile drive ahead of them, they set off for the town of Aiken. Two detours and a delay at a bridge made the trip longer than they had anticipated.

  “It’s taken us an hour!” Nancy said as they alighted in front of the broadcasting company offices. “Oh, Ned, I hope Romano is still here. It will be the best break I’ve had yet!”

  CHAPTER XVII

  Double Disappearance

  NANCY and Ned were whisked by elevator to the third floor of the TV station. Anxiously they asked for the violinist. Daniel Brownell, the manager, came to speak to them.

  “I’m very sorry we could not keep Thomas Smith here,” he said regretfully. “We tried our best, but he insisted upon leaving.”

  “You told him it was very important?” Nancy asked, her heart sinking.

  Mr. Brownell nodded. “The only way we could have kept him was by force. Naturally we couldn’t do that. He left about forty-five minutes ago.”

  “I must see him,” Nancy told the man. “Can you tell me where he went?”

  “Sorry, I haven’t the slightest idea. And I’m afraid he won’t be back.”

  “Why?” Ned asked.

  “Smith said he didn’t want to meet anyone. Acted strangely, as if he were afraid of somebody.”

  Nancy briefly explained to the manager that it was of great importance to the violinist that she contact him. “Surely you have his home address?” she asked.

  “Well, it’s most unusual for us to give out such information.”

  “My father, Carson Drew, will vouch for me,” Nancy pleaded. “Our finding Mr. Smith may mean a great deal to his future happiness.”

  Either Mr. Brownell had heard of Carson Drew or Nancy’s sincerity convinced him of her desire to help Smith. He stepped into an office and returned a moment later. In his hand was a slip of paper with Thomas Smith’s address. Nancy and Ned thanked him and drove direct to the place. It was a rooming house in a poor section of the city.

  “I have a feeling he won’t be here,” Nancy predicted as they climbed the steps.

  Her hunch that Romano had fled was correct. They learned from the superintendent that the man known as Thomas Smith had taken all his belongings and departed hastily.

  “He just left?” Nancy questioned the landlady.

  “Not ten minutes ago.”

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  “No. I asked him if he wanted his fan mail forwarded and he answered, ‘The only mail I want can never come.’ Then he jumped into an Acme taxi and drove off.”

  Nancy and Ned walked to the car. The couple realized that they had to return the rented motorboat and were using a borrowed automobile. Ned felt it would be best to abandon a further search for the time being.

  “We’d better go back to the Wyatts’,” he said.

  Reluctantly Nancy nodded assent. She felt frustrated, coming so close to finding Romano, only to fail.

  “He may have gone to one of the nearby gypsy camps,” she said. “I’ll come back here tomorrow and see
if I can pick up his trail.”

  “You never give up, do you?” Ned asked, patting her shoulder. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Nancy.”

  It was late before the young couple reached River Heights. Nancy slept soundly but was up early the next morning, eager to get on the trail of Romano Pepito. She thought of calling Mrs. Struthers to tell her the latest developments but decided against it.

  “No use disappointing them if nothing comes of my hunt,” she told Hannah Gruen.

  “You’re not going alone?” the housekeeper asked, worried.

  “Not if Bess and George will go with me.”

  After breakfast she phoned the girls to ask if they would accompany her to Aiken.

  “Sure,” George said, and Bess echoed the sentiment.

  By noon they were in the small city of Aiken, ready to take up the search for the missing violinist.

  “First, let’s go to the Acme Taxi Company and see what we can find out,” Nancy suggested. “It was one of their men who drove Romano from his rooming house.”

  “I hope he’ll remember where he took his passenger,” George said, as they parked the car in front of the Acme office.

  Nancy found the manager and asked if he would mind answering a few questions.

  “It’s okay with me,” he said genially.

  “Did any of your drivers mention calling for a man with a violin at a rooming house on the west side of town last night?”

  “Might have been Gus Frankey. He answered a call from over there. Say, did Gus report in this morning?” he asked, turning to an assistant at a nearby desk.

  “Didn’t show up,” the other replied. “We’ve phoned his house six times. Wife’s wild—says he didn’t come home last night.”

  “Did he turn in his cab?”

  “No.”

  “He must have taken his passenger on a long trip.” The manager turned again to Nancy. “Gus probably is the driver you want to see.”

  “While we’re waiting for him, we may as well find a place to eat,” Bess insisted impatiently. “I’m starved!”

  As the girls walked down the street, looking for a restaurant, Nancy suddenly stopped.

  “One of Mrs. Struthers’ stolen dolls!” she exclaimed, pointing toward the window of an attractive shop.

  Amid a display of fine old porcelain figurines stood the dainty little lady on a velvet box, holding her fan and bouquet. Nancy hurried into the shop. A pleasant elderly woman came forward. At Nancy’s request she took the doll from the window.

  “Normally I handle only porcelain figurines,” she explained, “but when this doll was offered to me, I couldn’t resist her.”

  “Would you mind telling me whom you bought it from?” Nancy asked. “The doll is really a collector’s piece, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed it is. The woman who sold it said she had bought it in Paris. She’s disposing of her collection.”

  “Did the woman have olive skin and carrot-colored hair?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes, she did,” the shopowner replied.

  “Then I’m afraid you were sold a stolen doll by a gypsy named Nitaka,” Nancy said, sorry to have to reveal such unpleasant news. “When did you buy it?”

  “It’s one of Mrs. Strikers’ stolen dolls!” Nancy

  exclaimed.

  “Only yesterday.”

  Nancy turned to Bess and George. “That might mean Anton and Nitaka are somewhere near here, as well as Romano!” she exclaimed.

  The shopkeeper was confused by the girl’s reference to persons she did not know. “It never occurred to me that the doll was stolen,” she said nervously.

  Nancy looked about for a phone. “I think we’d better call the owner of the doll,” she said.

  “I hope she won’t blame me for buying it,” the shopkeeper said nervously.

  “I’m sure she won’t,” Nancy assured her. “Mrs. Struthers is very kind. I’ll explain everything to her.”

  Bess spoke up. “You’ll probably be hours on the phone, Nancy. Suppose George and I get sandwiches and bring them back to the car.”

  “All right,” Nancy said, and picked up the phone. She placed her call, and presently heard Mrs. Struthers’ voice. Instantly she knew from the woman’s tone that something had gone wrong.

  Before she could mention having found the stolen doll, Mrs. Struthers cried, “Oh, Nancy, the most dreadful thing has happened! I’ve been trying to get hold of you. Rose has disappeared! We’re afraid she may have been kidnapped.”

  “How terrible!” Nancy exclaimed. “When did this happen?”

  “Just this morning. Oh, what’ll I do? What’ll I do?”

  “Maybe Rose went to visit one of her playmates,” Nancy suggested, trying to soothe the woman.

  “No, we’ve looked everywhere.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Yes. Everyone is searching for her, but no one’s seen her since she went out to play in the yard this morning. Oh, I’m desperate. If anything should happen to that child ...”

  “Mrs. Struthers, it’s just possible Rose ran away of her own accord,” Nancy suggested quickly.

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Rose has talked a good bit lately about going into television and movies,” Nancy said. “She may have taken a train to New York to try for an audition.”

  “Nancy, you may be right. Her violin is gone too.”

  Actually Nancy did not think this was what had happened. Rather, she felt that Mrs. Struthers’ first guess was correct—that Rose had been kidnapped.

  After promising Mrs. Struthers she would do everything possible to find her granddaughter, Nancy was in a quandary. Should she go back to River Heights or keep on trying to locate Romano? It was just possible, she decided, that there was a connection between the two disappearances!

  Nancy arranged with the owner of the shop to keep the doll until plans could be made for Mrs. Struthers to claim it. Then Nancy hurried back to the Acme Taxi Company.

  As she arrived a dusty cab turned into the garage. The girl wondered if this could be the one Thomas Smith had hired. Impulsively she stopped the driver to inquire if he were Gus Frankey. When he said he was, Nancy asked if he had picked up a violinist by the name of Thomas Smith at the studio the night before.

  “I sure did,” the man answered. “Worse luck for me!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “It’s important that I find Mr. Smith,” Nancy said urgently. “Where is he?”

  “You’d need a map to find the place.”

  Nancy wondered why the man was so evasive. It was maddening when time was short. Rose had disappeared, and Romano might be within reach!

  “Listen,” said Nancy, “this may be a life-and-death matter. If you don’t think I can find the place where you taxied Mr. Smith, you’ll have to take me there yourself!”

  “Hold on, miss. I can’t go back there now. I’ve been out all night.”

  “You wouldn’t want to be responsible for harm coming to an innocent person—”

  The man’s eyes opened wide. “ ’Course not. Just the same, I won’t go unless the company manager gives his okay. I’ve got reasons.”

  Nancy called the manager from his office.

  “This girl,” said the driver, “wants me to make another long trip. I’ve been out all night and had a tough time.”

  “It’s vital that I find the passenger this man carried last night,” Nancy interposed, excited.

  “I’ll pay well for the trip. But please hurry.”

  “Take her, Gus,” the manager ordered. “You can have time off later.”

  As Gus went unwillingly to fill the gas tank of the cab and phone his wife, Nancy glanced anxiously down the street for Bess and George. They were not in sight. She told Gus she would be right back, then jumped into her own car and quickly rode around several blocks in the town. She could not find the cousins.

  “I can’t wait for them muc
h longer,” Nancy decided. “Gus may change his mind.”

  When Nancy reached the garage, she found the girls still had not returned. The taxi driver was fuming.

  “If you don’t go now,” he said, “I’m going home to bed, boss or no boss.”

  “All right.”

  Quickly she wrote her friends a note of explanation and left it on the front seat of her car. Then, having asked the manager to keep his eye on the automobile until the girls came, she hopped into Gus’s taxi and they rode away.

  “How far are we going?” she asked, as they turned into the country. “And where?”

  “To that gypsy camp on the mountain south of Aiken,” he replied. “And, believe me, if the boss hadn’t ordered me to do this, you wouldn’t get me near that place with a ten-foot pole! I had the scare of my life there!”

  CHAPTER XVIII

  An Unexpected Reunion

  NANCY was thunderstruck at the taxi driver’s words. He had been to a gypsy camp and had had a bad scare! Maybe she herself was running into danger going to the place!

  “You took Mr. Smith to a gypsy camp?”

  “Sure, and spent the whole night there, too,” Gus replied. “When I arrived, a couple of men rushed out and took me inside. There was some kind of feast and they gave me a lot to eat and drink. Then I tried to leave, but they wouldn’t let me. I must see some dancing, they said, then eat some more.”

  “But what scared you?” Nancy prompted.

  “The fortuneteller. She told me awful things.”

  “You didn’t believe her?”

  “I did last night. Maybe she was wrong, though,” the driver admitted. “But I haven’t told you the worst part. I can’t prove it, but I’ll bet they drugged me. I must have gone to sleep while the fortuneteller was talking. The next thing I knew I woke up in my own cab this morning. What I can’t figure out is why they did it.”

  Nancy thought she could. The gypsies were expecting Rose to be brought there! Since the time of the girl’s arrival was somewhat uncertain, they had decided to hold Gus until they were sure he would not find out what was going on and report the incident to the Aiken policel