The Clue in the Old Album

  “We’ll start searching at once and let you know what we find out,” the officer promised.

  While waiting to hear from him, Nancy dashed over to Mrs. Struthers’ home to show her the strange blanket. Rose was having a music lesson and Nancy could hear the dear, true notes of a violin.

  Nancy thought the teacher must be playing, but Mrs. Struthers smiled proudly and said, “That’s Rose. Isn’t she doing well? And her dancing is remarkable. Oh, Nancy, she’s so happy now, and I have you to thank for everything. If only we could find her father and the mysterious doll.”

  “I have a new idea,” Nancy announced. “It came to me after looking at this gift from some strange gypsy woman.”

  Mrs. Struthers gazed in awe at the blanket and felt sure it carried an unfriendly warning. Nancy said she did not share the woman’s anxiety.

  “I have a new theory I want to work on. To start I’d like a little more information about your daughter’s last illness. Would you mind if I ask the doctor about it?”

  “No, indeed. The physician was Dr. Tiffen. I’m sure he’ll talk with you, although he always says Enid’s illness was a puzzle to him.”

  Nancy went to Dr. Tiffen’s office and learned that the illness was not so much a puzzle as he had pretended to Mrs. Struthers and her daughter.

  “I did not think it wise to tell them. I knew Enid could not live long,” the doctor revealed. “What did puzzle me, though, was that at times she seemed to have abundant energy, and at others she had almost none.”

  “You gave her medication?” Nancy asked.

  “Oh, yes, but that was to ease the pain. In cases like hers, I know of nothing to prescribe to give a patient energy.”

  “Dr. Tiffen,” Nancy said, “I have a theory, which may sound crazy, but if you have time, may I tell you what it is?”

  “Every once in a while,” he said, smiling, “a layman hits upon an idea that is a great boon to mankind.” Nancy explained that she had figured out that “source of light” meant the sun. Since energy comes from the sun, possibly, through some secret known to her, Rose’s mother had received momentary energy.

  “You may be right,” Dr. Tiffen said.

  “If you think there’s something to my theory, I’ll try to find that ‘source of light,’ ” the young detective declared.

  Before Nancy reached her car, Dr. Tiffen called her back. “Mrs. Struthers is on the phone.”

  She told Nancy that the police had just notified her that they had located part of her stolen property in a Winchester pawnshop.

  “They’re holding several suspects and one of them may be the thief who stole my jeweled bag. He may also be the one who robbed the house. Could you go over to Winchester, Nancy, and identify him?”

  The girl glanced at her wrist watch. She could just about make it there and back before dark, and thus keep her promise to her father and Hannah that she would not stay out alone at night while working on the Struthers case.

  “I’ll run right over,” she agreed.

  For the second time that day Nancy headed her car for Winchester. Should any of the men in the police line-up be those suspected as thieves, she hoped they would confess and clear up a large part of the mystery. Unfortunately she had never seen any of them before.

  Early the next morning Nancy received a call from a state police officer. “Miss Drew,” he said, “we’ve located those gypsies. They’re on the south side of Hancock. One of the men from the barracks near there will go with you. What time can you reach Hancock?”

  “About nine-thirty. Thank you very much.”

  As soon as Nancy and Hannah had had breakfast, the girl detective went off, her hopes high. Now perhaps she would find Romano Pepito! If not, surely she would pick up a clue to the whereabouts of Anton, Nitaka, and perhaps even Murko. He might tell her who left the blanket with the strange message.

  At exactly nine-thirty Nancy walked into the Hancock Barracks’ office. A uniformed state policeman named Wicks was assigned to accompany her to the gypsy settlement. As they approached the secluded place, the callers were greeted by barking dogs.

  The warning sent gypsies scurrying toward their trailers. Women who had been cooking meat over brilliant-red fires hastily gathered their playing children and retreated. When the policeman addressed a question to a young woman who hurried past, she replied, “Ci janav.” He explained to Nancy that this mean, “I don’t know.”

  The same reply was received from other fleeing figures. Evidently the gypsies had no intention of giving any information to the police!

  One man did come forward and make a pretense of welcoming the couple. Nancy had never seen him before, nor any of the gypsies who were looking curiously from the doorways and windows of their trailers. So far as she could judge, these were not the people she had visited before.

  Politely she asked if Zorus, Murko, Romano Pepito, Anton, Nitaka, Tony Wassel, or Henrietta Bostwick were there. The man shook his head at mention of each name.

  “The persons I’m looking for aren’t here,” she said to Wicks.

  “Just the same, we’ll make sure and not take anyone’s word for it,” he replied.

  The officer investigated on his own, but came back convinced that the purse snatcher was not hiding in the camp.

  “If he was here, he fled before we came,” Wicks decided.

  Nancy bought a string of beads from a young woman. Then she and Wicks left.

  Nancy reached River Heights just as the clock in the town-hall tower chimed the midday hour. She loved to listen to it and often laughingly told Hannah that it made her feel as though the old bell were announcing the end of one adventure and the beginning of another.

  “But today it means nothing more mysterious than a luncheon date with Bess and George, and a look at the mannequin doll’s wedding party,” she reflected with a chuckle.

  At one o’clock she met the cousins at the new restaurant Bess had recommended.

  “Let’s walk to Taylor’s from here,” Bess suggested after they finished a hearty meal. “I feel ten pounds heavier.”

  The department store was only two blocks away. George told her cousin she should climb up the five flights to the doll exhibit as well, if she expected to reduce. Bess grimaced and got in the elevator.

  The roped off area was already crowded when the girls entered, but they managed to make their way to the front and were thrilled at the exquisite scene on stage. Six dainty bridesmaids stood in attendance on a beautiful bride.

  “Did you ever see anything so lovely?” Bess whispered. “Especially the bride! She looks real enough to walk right down the aisle!”

  As Nancy gazed at the bride mannequin, her thoughts roved. She recalled the gypsy wedding at the carnival and how the child bride had received a symbolic doll as part of the ceremony. Then she recalled the photograph Mrs. Struthers had shown her of Rose’s mother in her white bridal gown.

  “Girls,” she whispered, excited, “we must go at once to Mrs. Struthers’. I believe I have the answer to the mystery! it’s in the old album after all!”

  CHAPTER XV

  A Detective Fails

  BESS and George were startled by Nancy’s sudden declaration.

  “In which old album?” George asked. “You’ve uncovered so many I can hardly keep track of them all.”

  Nancy grinned at her friend. “It’s not that confusing, George,” she said. “I’m sure we can find the clue in that old album of Mrs. Struthers’.”

  “The one the precious stones were stolen from?” Bess questioned.

  “Right!” Nancy answered. “Let’s hurry over to her house and I’ll show you what I mean.”

  The three girls soon reached the Struthers home and hurried inside. While the others watched in bewilderment, Nancy quickly flipped through the pages of the brass-filigree album until she came to the photograph of Enid Struthers in her bridal gown.

  “Do you notice anything odd about this picture?” she asked.

  In turn George, Be
ss, and Mrs. Struthers examined the photograph and shook their heads.

  “Don’t you see anything unnatural about it?” Nancy persisted.

  Rose, who had joined the group, volunteered her opinion. “It looks more like a doll than my mommy!”

  “Exactly!” cried Nancy, pleased to have her hunch confirmed. “Rose, I’m sure this isn’t a photograph of your mother. It’s a picture of a doll made to look like her!”

  “Why, Nancy, that’s fantastic!” Mrs. Struthers exclaimed. “This is my daughter!”

  “If you’ll look closely at the face, you can see an artificiality about it,” Nancy declared.

  The others scrutinized the picture carefully, and realized that Nancy was right.

  “Such a lifelike doll makes those mannequins at Taylor’s look like so many sticks,” George remarked.

  “But seeing them gave me the idea about this picture.” Nancy smiled.

  “How do you account for the doll being made?” Mrs. Struthers asked.

  “My guess is that Romano, being a gypsy, wanted to follow their custom of presenting a doll to his bride. Since she was not a child and not a gypsy, he had one made to look like her in her bridal dress. He probably thought it so attractive that he had it photographed.”

  “But why go to all that trouble?” George questioned. “Why didn’t he just take a picture of Mrs. Pepito?”

  “If I had the answer to that,” Nancy replied, “I’d have the key to the whole mystery.” To herself she said, “Maybe Enid didn’t have a bridal dress of her own.”

  “What do you suppose became of the doll?” Mrs. Struthers asked. “If Enid had it, why didn’t she show it to me or to Rose?”

  “Perhaps your daughter was forced to sell the doll,” Nancy speculated. “Or possibly her husband took it with him.”

  “Without doubt this doll in the picture is the one I’m to find for Rose,” Mrs. Struthers said. “But what importance could it have for her? During the last few days of Enid’s life, she did say she had expected Rose to be well off financially, someday, but that the hope had been lost. Could that have had some connection with the doll itself?”

  Instead of answering, Nancy looked at the elderly woman and asked, “Mrs. Struthers, at the time of your daughter’s illness, did you have the same servants you have now?”

  “No, a Mrs. Hunt was with us then. She was our housekeeper and was very attentive to Enid.”

  “Where is Mrs. Hunt now?”

  “She has retired to a little cottage near the edge of River Heights. It was through her that I came here. Do you think she might know something helpful, which she did not tell me?”

  “Possibly,” Nancy replied.

  “Then do call on her,” Mrs. Struthers said.

  As the girls left the house, George and Bess suddenly remembered that they had promised to meet their mothers downtown to go shopping. Nancy dropped them off and drove to the former housekeeper’s home alone.

  Mrs. Hunt was rather reserved at first, but Nancy’s straightforward and sincere manner impressed her. When the woman seemed satisfied that Nancy wanted to help Rose and her grandmother, she willingly told her everything she knew about Enid Struthers.

  “I felt so sorry for the poor girl,” she murmured. “Her marriage to Romano Pepito brought her happiness for only a short time. She didn’t confide in her mother about her fears, but she did tell me a few things.”

  “Did she ever mention a doll made to look like her?” Nancy asked.

  “No, she didn’t. If she had one, she probably kept it in a small trunk in her room.”

  Nancy looked surprised, for Mrs. Struthers had never mentioned the trunk to her.

  “Enid always wore the key to it on a ribbon around her neck,” Mrs. Hunt added. “She never opened the trunk when anyone was near.”

  “What became of it?”

  “I don’t know. Mrs. Struthers may still have it. But the contents are gone. They were removed by Enid before she died.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “About a week before poor Enid passed away, she and I were alone in the house. A woman came to see her. They talked a long while together. Then they went to Enid’s bedroom.”

  “Did Mrs. Pepito seem upset?”

  “No, she seemed very pleased about the whole affair. The visitor finally left, carrying a rather large package. After that, Enid never bothered to lock the trunk, and one day when it was open, I noticed it was empty.”

  “You’ve no idea what it was she gave away!”

  “Not the slightest. For a day or two she was very happy, telling me her broken life was about to be set right. Then, seemingly for no reason, she became discouraged and began to cry a good deal. Her illness, which was incurable, become worse, and she passed away suddenly.”

  “She said nothing about her visitor?”

  “Not directly, but when I mentioned her, Enid said please not to tell her mother anyone had been there.”

  “Mrs. Struthers told me that Enid on her deathbed begged her mother to find a certain doll. She seemed to want it for Rose.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Hunt nodded sadly, “but we couldn’t figure out what she meant.”

  “Do you recall what the woman who came after the package looked like?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes, indeed. She was of medium height and well dressed. Her eyes were dark and piercing—the kind that usually go with coal-black hair. But this woman’s hair I guess was bleached. Anyway, it was a strange shade, a kind of carrot color.”

  “Oh!” Nancy cried. “I know who she is!”

  “You do?” asked Mrs. Hunt, astounded.

  Nancy did not say that she thought the caller had been Nitaka, but she was sure of it. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place rapidly now!”

  “I’m glad you called,” Mrs. Hunt declared as the girl announced she must leave. “You’re a true friend of Mrs. Struthers’ and I can see you want to help her.”

  “I hope I can.”

  “Well, I don’t mean to discourage you, my dear, but that detective she hired never was able to learn anything about the doll. Nor was he able to trace the woman who called on Enid when I told him about her.”

  “Mrs. Struthers hired a detective?”

  “Immediately after the daughter passed away. He charged her an enormous price, in return for doing absolutely nothing!”

  “I hope I won’t fail,” Nancy said with determination. “By the way, part of my work is to find Rose’s father. Mrs. Struthers believes the family should be reunited.”

  Mrs. Hunt was amazed to hear this, but delighted as well.

  Nancy explained. “At first I was looking for Romano Pepito to find out about the doll. Then I came across a picture of him and showed it to Rose and her grandmother.” Nancy smiled. “He’s handsome and kind looking. Now they want him to join the family.”

  Mrs. Hunt smiled too. “I’m so glad. Enid was deeply in love with her husband, and I’m sure he must be a fine man. By the way, how is Rose? She was unmanageable during her mother’s illness.”

  Nancy reported the improvement in Rose’s behavior and mentioned her talent in music. “I believe she’ll be on the concert stage and in movies and television someday,” she prophesied.

  “I’m so pleased,” Mrs. Hunt said, as she opened the door for her caller. “Good-by and come again.”

  On the way home Nancy remembered that she had promised Hannah to make a trip out to the farm where the housekeeper bought chickens each week.

  “I’ll do it now,” she decided, and turned onto a country road.

  Her purchase made, she started down the steep, high-banked lane from the farmhouse. At the intersecting highway she came to a dead stop to look for passing cars. An automobile whizzed by at high speed, but not too fast for Nancy to catch a glimpse of the driver’s face.

  “The purse snatcher!” she thought, hardly daring to believe her eyes. “In a black sedan!”

  There were no other cars on the road, so she quickly
turned into the highway and pursued the man. As she pulled nearer, he must have realized that Nancy was trying to overtake him, for he put on a burst of speed. Nancy did the same.

  The chase was on!

  CHAPTER. XVI

  The Television Clue

  NANCY became aware of a roaring noise behind her. A second later a motorcycle policeman drew up alongside and motioned her to pull over.

  “You know how fast you’re going?” he asked. “We got laws, you know!”

  Nancy slowed down but did not stop. Pointing to the sedan ahead, which was disappearing from view, she cried out, “That driver—he’s a thief! Please go after him! I’ll follow and explain.”

  The officer, not sure that this might not be a way of getting rid of him, said, “Who are you?”

  “Nancy Drew. Carson Drew’s daugh....”

  The policeman waited for no more. Like a released rocket he shot down the road. Nancy, following at top speed, presently saw him overtake the sedan. It pulled to the side of the road and the driver handed the policeman something through the open window.

  “Probably his license,” the girl surmised.

  As Nancy reached them and looked the driver square in the face, she knew without a doubt he was the purse snatcher.

  “Mr. Rosser here says he’s innocent of your charge,” the policeman said to Nancy.

  “Rosser? His name is Tony Wassell,” Nancy explained.

  “Officer, you see from my license what my name is,” the man declared indignantly. “I’ve never seen this girl before, and I don’t know what she’s talking about. Now, if you’re through with me, I’ll go along.”

  “Not so fast,” the officer said. “Tony Wassell, eh? That name’s in the police records.”

  “Yes,” Nancy spoke up. “He’s the man who stole a purse with money and other valuables from Mrs. John Struthers.”

  “Oh, so you’re the guy,” said the officer, remembering the case. “And if you’re Tony Wassell, you’re the gypsy we’ve got other charges against.”

  “I’m not a gypsy!” the man retorted angrily.