(#20) The Clue in the Jewel Box (3 page)

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 bit 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 address 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!”

“I have a hunch the pickpocket is hiding in there,” Nancy whispered.

The argument grew hotter, but suddenly the window was slammed down and the girls could hear no more.

At once Nancy turned to her friends. “George, you and Bess get a policeman! I’ll go into the apartment house and see what I can find out.”

“Please be careful,” Bess warned her friend.

The instant the girls had gone, Nancy entered the building. The outer lobby was deserted. Finding the inner door unlocked, she went into the hallway.

“I wonder which apartment the men are in,” she mused, tiptoeing down the hallway.

Suddenly a door a little distance away from her opened. A man rushed out, slamming it behind him.

He resembled the pickpocket!

Nancy wanted a closer look at him and gazed about for a place to observe him unnoticed. Near her was a telephone booth. She darted inside.

“If he is the pickpocket, I’ll follow him!” she decided.

Unfortunately the man spotted Nancy and recognized her. Angrily he ran toward her.

“This is the pickpocket,” she concluded. “He saw me and knows I heard what was said!”

Fearful that the man meant to harm her, Nancy slammed shut the glass-paneled door of the booth. To her consternation he took a piece of wood from his pocket and wedged it under the crack.

“There! How do you like that?” the pickpocket sneered. He dashed back to the room, opened the door, and shouted a warning to someone inside. Then he ran from the building.

Meanwhile, Nancy pushed with all her strength against the door, but it would not move. The wedge held fast. She was trapped!

Instinctively she searched her purse for a coin to deposit in the telephone and get help, but had none. Thoroughly alarmed, Nancy pounded on the door, but her cries went unheard.