The Eskimo's Secret

  “Ah, so here you are, Nancy,” he said with a joviality that didn’t reach his eyes. “I asked the guard if you’d left the building and he told me you hadn’t.”

  “Was there something you wanted?” Nancy asked, aware that he was looking past her at Tod Harper and his glare was furious.

  “Please come back to my office,” he invited, his gesture drawing her away from Tod and into

  the hall behind him. “Out of the building, Harper,” Mr. Steele growled. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “Leaving will be a pleasure,” Tod snapped, going the other way.

  Mr. Steele said nothing until they’d returned to his office. “I’m sorry to interrupt your con-versation, but I’ve been thinking I would very much like to have you stay in Victoria and try to find Alana.”

  “You want me to stay?” Nancy couldn’t hide her surprise.

  “I’m terribly worried, Nancy. Alana was trying to reach you, so I’m sure she wants your help. If you would be my guest at the house, perhaps she’ll try to reach you there. I just hope it’s soon.”

  “You think her disappearance is connected with the theft, don’t you?” Nancy asked.

  “I don’t think she stole it, if that’s what you mean.” His face was grim.

  “Neither do I,” Nancy assured him, “but she might have seen something or heard something that told her who did take it. If she knew too much ...” She didn’t want to finish the thought.

  “Then you have to find her quickly.”

  “I’ll need some help,” Nancy said, pleased at his change of attitude.

  “Anything.”

  “Tell me about the Tundra,” Nancy requested. “Who owns it? Who would want to steal it?”

  “The Tundra was the masterpiece of a private collection originally belonging to Franklin Cole. He died about six months ago and his wife offered me the collection. While alive, Mr. Cole never displayed the sculpture, but after his death his wife was harassed by a number of very insistent buyers and she couldn’t stand the pressure. She felt that hiding such a monumental work of art in a private collection was wrong and she intimated that she would allow me to handle the sale of it to someone or some institution that would display it permanently as the valuable part of the Eskimo heritage she feels it to be.” Mr. Steele spoke with calm authority on the subject, but his expression was sad. “It seems she trusted the wrong person,” he finished.

  “Do you think the theft was done by one of those buyers?” Nancy asked.

  He nodded.

  “But I thought the authorities said it was an inside job,” Nancy protested.

  “There was inside help,” he confirmed. “Will you stay on, Nancy? Try to find Alana?”

  “Of course.” Nancy made her decision.

  “I’ll call Mrs. Dentley and tell her to expect you.” Mr. Steele looked relieved.

  “Would it be all right if I talked to some of the people here at the gallery?” Nancy asked.

  “Of course. If anyone is reluctant to answer your questions, just let me know.”

  “I’ll contact you as soon as I learn anything,” Nancy assured him, hoping it wouldn’t be long.

  The next hour was discouraging. Questioning the employees of the gallery proved frustrating, for everyone seemed to agree that Alana was obsessed with the Tundra, but no one could tell her why. Nor did any of them offer suggestions about other people she might talk to. Nancy finally went to the receptionist’s desk, hoping the woman would be able to give her names and addresses of other people who’d worked at the gallery, people that might know Alana better than the ones she’d talked to.

  “Miss Nancy Drew?” A young boy called out as he came in the front door.

  “I’m Nancy Drew,” Nancy confirmed.

  He stepped forward and handed her an envelope. Nancy looked at it, seeking a return address, her thoughts on her father. There was none. She began tearing it open.

  The note was typed on a single sheet of paper.

  Nancy Drew, Give up your search and leave Victoria. Alana will not be found and you are in danger. ‘A Friend’

  5. A Friend in Hiding

  Nancy gasped, then looked around for the boy who’d brought the envelope; but he had vanished.

  “What is it?” the receptionist asked.

  Nancy handed her the note, then ran to the front door to peer out into the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy. He was nowhere to be seen. She returned to the receptionist’s desk with a frown.

  “Would you like me to call the authorities?” the woman asked as Nancy reclaimed the note.

  Nancy considered, then shook her head. “I’m sure it’s just a prank,” she said.

  The receptionist’s expression told her the woman didn’t believe it.

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone,” Nancy continued. “Mr. Steele has asked me to stay at his home to wait for Alana, so I’ll be perfectly safe. However, I would like Tod Harper’s home address and phone number, as well as the names of the two employees that left the gallery earlier this year.”

  The receptionist dug out the information while Nancy studied the note and the envelope more thoroughly. It was obvious the messenger had not been working for a regular delivery firm. Since Tod Harper was the only person besides Mr. Steele to know why she was in Victoria, it seemed likely he had sent the warning. What bothered her was why?

  Nancy took the information and left the gallery, seeking a public telephone for her calls. The first was to Seattle, for she was anxious to know how her father had fared with Miss Haggler and to tell him what had been happening here.

  “Mr. Drew has not returned to the hotel, Miss Drew,” the desk clerk reported. “There are several messages for him.”

  “Are there any for me?” Nancy asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” was the answer. “Did you wish to leave a message?”

  “Just a note telling my father that I can be reached at the Steele home,” Nancy said after a moment of thought. She wasn’t sure her father would approve of her staying on in Victoria to search for Alana; but she didn’t want to return to Seattle to discuss it. Time might be very important if Alana was in danger.

  She tried the other numbers she’d gotten from the receptionist, without much luck. No one answered any of them. Feeling frustrated, she drove to the Steele mansion again, this time to be welcomed warmly by Mrs. Dentley.

  Once she was settled in the guest room, Nancy asked the maid to show her to Alana’s room, which was just down the hall. Though she felt like an intruder, it was the only place she could think of to look for clues to her friend’s disappearance. She began searching the rather untidy area.

  Books and papers were everywhere, making clear just how deeply interested Alana was in Eskimo art and in ivory carving. Nancy checked them carefully, seeking references to the Tundra, hoping for information on the owner and the history of the piece; but she found nothing. Frustrated, she sat down at Alana’s desk.

  “Where have you gone, Alana?” she asked the pretty, feminine room. “Why didn’t you leave me one clue?”

  She tried to pick up the corner of the blotter that protected the fine wood of the desk and gasped as a small ivory polar bear tumbled off the desk and bounced under the four-poster bed. Nancy dropped to her knees and felt under the heavy rose satin of the bedspread. Her fingers found nothing.

  “Now where did you go?” she murmured, lifting the thick fabric so a little light could spill under the bed. For a moment, she saw nothing, then a vague shadow caught her eye and she lay down on the thick carpet to peer under the bed at a better angle.

  It wasn’t hard to spot the bear, but when she reached for it, she felt the tickling of something hanging down from the bedsprings. Investigating, she found a trailing piece of tape leading up to what looked like a small cardboard box lid.

  “What in the world?” she asked, prying the lid loose from the rest of the tape that secured it to the bedsprings. A small notebook dropped fr
om the box lid into her hand.

  Reaching for the bear, Nancy brought both articles to the desk. She put the bear back where she’d found it, then turned her attention to the notebook. It was a very ordinary small looseleaf notebook, but the single word inked on the

  cover told her why it had been hidden away. It was titled “Tundra” in Alana’s distinctive handwriting.

  Nancy was just ready to open the book when there was a light knock on the door. “Miss Drew?” The maid peered in.

  “What is it2” Nancy asked, covering the notebook with some of Alana’s papers.

  “You have a phone call, Miss Drew,” the girl answered.

  “My father?” Nancy wondered hopefully.

  “The gentleman didn’t give his name,” the maid replied. “If you’d like to come down to the library?”

  “I’ll be right with you,” Nancy said. “I just want to put things back the way they were.” She stood up, moving her body between the desk and the maid and carefully putting the notebook in her pocket. It made a slight bulge, but it was better than leaving it behind, she decided.

  “Did you find out where Miss Alana is?” the girl asked as Nancy followed her out into the upstairs hall.

  Nancy sighed. “I’m afraid not,” she admitted. “Do you happen to know of anyone I could call? A girlfriend she was close to?”

  The girl shook her head, then hurried down the stairs to open the door of the handsome library. “You can take the call here,” she said.

  Nancy smiled and thanked her, then waited until the girl had closed the door behind her before picking up the receiver. “Hello,” she said.

  “Nancy, are you really there?” Alana’s voice was breathless, high.

  “Alana? Where are you?” Nancy’s heart leaped with relief.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Alana answered. “What are you doing in Victoria?”

  “I came to help you,” Nancy replied, surprised by her friend’s tone. “You asked me to, remember.”

  “You shouldn’t have come.”

  “Your uncle is frantic with worry and so is Tod,” Nancy told her. “They both asked me to try to find you. You have to come home, Alana. The authorities think you stole the Tundra.”

  “I don’t have it.” The words were almost a sob.

  “I know that and so does your uncle, but until you talk to the officers in charge of the inves-tigation, you’ll be a suspect, Alana. Why did you run away? Where are you?”

  “I can’t tell you.” Alana’s voice was sad, but firm.

  “How can I help you if you won’t talk to me?” Nancy demanded, her frustration growing with her fear that Alana might hang up the phone. “Don’t you trust me, Alana?”

  “No one can help me now. It’s too late.”

  “It can’t be too late,” Nancy snapped. “You called me, Alana. Now give me a chance. Just tell me where you are.

  “No, no you can’t find me. It’s too late. You have to leave Victoria, Nancy. Go back to Seattle before you get hurt. I found the secret of the Tundra at the Firebird and now I . . . Please, Nancy, just go before you learn too much!”

  6. A Ransacked Room

  The phone clicked dead in her ear and Nancy nearly screamed in frustration. Why did people keep hanging up on her? All she wanted to do was help. She closed her eyes and tried to remember everything that Alana had said, hoping it would somehow start to make sense, but it didn’t.

  Not sure what to do next, Nancy dialed Tod Harper’s number again, not really expecting an answer. She was anxious to talk to someone, anyone, about Alana’s mysterious call. To her surprise, Tod answered on the first ring.

  “Well, what can I do for you?” he asked cheerfully when Nancy identified herself.

  “I’d like to talk to you about Alana,” Nancy said.

  “Have you heard from her again?” Tod inquired, his tone changing.

  “Yes, I—”

  “Not on the phone,” Tod said, cutting her off.

  “Do you want to come here?” Nancy asked, not sure what his caution meant.

  “No. I think we should meet somewhere else.” Tod sounded troubled.

  “Where?”

  “How about the Inner Harbour near the Empress Hotel? You know where that is, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “We could talk safely on one of those horse- drawn sightseeing rides,” Tod continued. He suggested they meet there in half an hour, then he hung up.

  Nancy replaced the receiver of the library telephone, then stood looking at nothing for a moment. What was Tod afraid of? Was he somehow involved in Alana’s disappearance? Or was it that he thought Mr. Steele was involved? She hadn’t a clue and it bothered her.

  Nancy slipped her hand into her pocket, her fingers lightly caressing the notebook. For a moment she wished she hadn’t called Tod, hadn’t agreed to meet him. She longed for time to look into the notebook to see what it was Alana had hidden so carefully. Then the memories of the panic in Alana’s voice swept over her and she knew she had to do more than read the notebook. Alana was in trouble or danger and she needed help!

  Mrs. Dentley was just coming out of the dining room when Nancy left the library. “Is everything satisfactory?” she asked with a smile.

  “Everything is fine, thank you,” Nancy assured her. “I’ll be going out for an hour or two now. If my father calls, tell him I’ll call him back as soon as I return.”

  “I’ll be happy to.” Mrs. Dentley’s smile faded. “I do hope you find Alana,” she said.

  “I’ll do my best,” Nancy assured her, feeling guilty about not telling her of the phone call she’d just received. She hurried up to the guest room to get her purse, taking time only to tuck the notebook into it before she left.

  The streets of Victoria were pretty but busy, and once she found the spot Tod had mentioned, she rather enjoyed the wait. Small flower baskets hung from old-fashioned lampposts, and clusters of geraniums and petunias added bright spots of color as she looked across the street to where the ivy-draped Empress Hotel stood. A tourist wagon passed and Nancy glanced at her watch. Tod was late. Frowning, she went to a telephone to call him.

  There was no answer at his apartment, so she returned to the meeting place. When a second horse-drawn wagon passed, Nancy felt an icy chill of premonition. Tod Harper tricked me, she thought angrily.

  She tried his apartment once more, then drove back to the Steele mansion. Her suspicions of trouble were confirmed when the front door was opened by a man in uniform.

  “Nancy, where in the world have you been?” Mr. Steele asked as he emerged from the library, his face dark with anger.

  “I went out to meet Tod Harper,” Nancy said, aware that she wasn’t going to make him any happier.

  “What did he want?” Mr. Steele demanded. “You should have known better than to trust him.”

  Nancy agreed, glumly. She looked around, noting more men moving purposefully through the halls of the mansion. “Did something happen here while I was away?”

  “I’m afraid so,” said the man who’d admitted her, before Mr. Steele could answer. “Are you Nancy Drew?”

  “Yes, I am,” Nancy said, her heart sinking.

  “Would you come upstairs, please, Miss Drew,” the man requested. “We’d like you to check your belongings and tell us if anything is missing.”

  "Missing?”

  “Someone broke in, Nancy,” Mr. Steele said.

  “You mean there was a burglary here?” Nancy asked, not sure she believed her own ears.

  “We’re not sure that anything was taken,” Mr. Steele said. “At least, nothing seems to be missing.”

  Nancy started to ask for more details, but her host had already turned away and disappeared back into the library, closing the door behind him. Frowning, Nancy followed the uniformed officer upstairs. Since her room was at the far end of the hall, they passed the door of Alana’s room on the way.

  “The maid said you were in here earlier,” the officer
said. “Do you think you could tell if any-thing was missing?”

  “From Alana’s room?” Nancy began, then gasped as the man opened the door. The room was a shambles. Every drawer had been dumped out, every book tossed from the shelf. Nothing was left as it had been just two hours ago.

  “Can you help us?” the officer asked.

  Nancy could only shake her head. “I was in the room briefly, but I didn’t notice . . . The only items I remember clearly are an ivory polar bear on the corner of the desk and the ornate clock on the dresser, and I see they’re still here.”

  The officer nodded. “So far we haven’t found anything obvious that’s missing.”

  “Do you have any idea what they were searching for?” Nancy asked.

  He shook his head. They left the mess behind and moved on to her room. Nancy felt sick when she looked inside. She’d brought little with her, but it was obvious that someone had been through everything.

  “What would they be looking for among your things?” the officer asked.

  Nancy’s fingers tightened on her purse, not really able to feel the notebook inside, but aware that it was there. “Whatever they couldn’t find in Alana’s room,” she replied as calmly as she could. Then she asked, “Where were the servants when this was happening?”

  “In the kitchen and dining room according to the housekeeper. They were preparing for the evening meal.” He smiled. “And there was no sign of forced entry, Miss Drew. Whoever did this either had keys or had help from someone inside the house. Is there anything missing from your things?” he asked after a moment of silence.

  Nancy checked quickly, then shook her head.

  “Shall we go back down and talk to Mr. Steele?”

  Nancy rubbed the edges of her purse again, suddenly sure that the notebook inside was what the thief had been after. But why? What could it hold that would goad someone into such a violent search? She had to give it to the authorities, she realized unhappily, yet she longed to read it first.