(#20) The Clue in the Jewel Box (5 page)

Nancy threw a rock at the gun

“No, I’m not,” the man said quickly. “That gun isn’t loaded, and I meant no harm.”

Nancy was unconvinced, even when her father opened the weapon to show it contained no bullets.

“I guess my life wasn’t in danger,” Mr. Drew said, trying to relieve the situation, “but I do appreciate your trying to save me, dear.”

“It’s all a mistake,” the caller insisted. “I came here to meet you, Miss Drew.”

Nancy was bewildered. “But I did see you pointing the revolver directly at my father!”

“I was merely trying to sell the gun to him. It’s a rare one.”

“That’s true,” said Mr. Drew. “He noticed my collection of antique firearms on the wall, and thought I might like to add this one to it.”

“He’s wanted by the police,” Nancy insisted. “Or is it possible,” she said, turning to the caller, “that you’re the man who looks so much like the pickpocket?”

The stranger crossed the room and she noted that he walked with a long stride and not short, quick steps.

“Yes, I am. My name is Dorrance—David Dorrance. You saved me from arrest. I asked the policeman for your name and address and came here to thank you.”

“Nancy, I think you owe Mr. Dorrance an apology,” Mr. Drew said. “I’m afraid this time you’ve made a mistake in your sleuthing.”

“I truly am sorry,” she replied.

“Oh, I can’t blame you for acting as you did,” the caller said, accepting the revolver which Mr. Drew handed him. “I’ve been mistaken for that other fellow several times.”

“He resembles you closely,” Nancy remarked. She tried to memorize Dorrance’s features to avoid any future misunderstanding.

“It’s hard on me having the police and young lady detectives always after me,” Dorrance resumed. “Why, your friends chased me a block, no doubt mistaking me for the pickpocket.”

“Was that when you left an apartment house on Oster Street yesterday?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t been near there since the day my wallet was stolen. The chase was about an hour ago.”

“Why did you run?” Nancy asked.

“I didn’t. It was only after I’d boarded a bus that I realized they were after me.”

Nancy decided that she had been unduly suspicious of him, especially after he explained that he bought and sold antique weapons as a hobby. The revolver she had knocked from his hand had been purchased only a short time before, he said. Nancy recalled having seen a similar one at Mr. Faber’s shop.

“I don’t see how I made such a mistake,” she said in apology. “Is there a way to avoid that happening again?”

“Why not arrange a set of signals?” Dorrance suggested, grinning.

“If I ever mistake you again for the thief, wave a handkerchief,” Nancy said. “Then I’ll know who you are.” The young man agreed.

A moment later he left. Nancy went at once to retrieve the ice cream and placed it in the freezer, then returned to her father.

“What do you think of David Dorrance?” she asked.

“I wasn’t impressed,” the lawyer replied. “However, I must say he took your accusation in a rather sporting way.”

Nancy perched herself on an arm of her father’s chair. “I dislike him,” she said. “I’ll always remember that man pointing a gun at you!”

“I’m as grateful as if you’d actually saved my life, Nancy,” Mr. Drew told her. “Well, here’s Hannah, so dinner is ready. Let’s forget this unpleasant episode,” he added, tucking Nancy’s arm under his own and walking to the dining room with her.

The following afternoon Nancy took Helen Archer and her house guest, Katherine, to call on Mrs. Alexandra. To Nancy’s delight, the girls made a favorable impression. More than that, Katherine soon realized who the woman was, and an animated conversation between the two began at once in a foreign tongue.

“Mrs. Alexandra and I—we are from the same country,” Katherine announced to the girls. “Please excuse—we have much to talk about.”

The other two did not mind being excluded. They were pleased because Katherine was so happy. Nancy pointed out the various art objects in the room to Helen, who was fascinated.

Before they left, Anna, who had served tea, took the gold-encrusted Easter egg from the curio cabinet and pressed the tiny spring. The nightingale sang its strange little song.

Katherine listened attentively, but offered no comment other than polite admiration. When the three girls were on the street, Nancy eagerly asked Katherine if the bird had sung any words in her language.

“He use words of my native tongue, but they are not clear,” the girl answered, frowning.

Katherine paused a moment, then she smiled. “It sound silly, maybe, but the little bird seem to say, ‘clue in jewel box!’ ”

CHAPTER VI

True Credentials?

“YES, the nightingale say, ‘clue in jewel box!’ ” Katherine Kovna repeated in her halting English. “But that mean nothing.”

“It may mean something very important!” Nancy corrected her excitedly.

“Of course the people of my native land—they have many secrets.” Katherine smiled.

The remark brought back to Nancy’s mind what Mr. Faber had told her about the royal lady’s escape from revolutionists with only the enameled Easter egg and a jewel box.

“There may be a connection between the two!” she said to herself. “The question is, does Mrs. Alexandra know that or not? Is the clue a political secret the woman can not reveal?”

The young detective silently considered the unexplained bits of the strange trail she was following. A pickpocket with a double had accidentally given her a clue to a lost prince. The missing man’s grandmother, in turn, knowingly or unknowingly held a carefully guarded secret, judging from the trouble someone had taken to make the nightingale sing.

Nancy wondered why she had not heard from Francis Baum. If she could talk with him, some of the pieces of the puzzle might fall into place. Had Baum’s landlady failed to deliver her message?

“Nancy,” said Helen, breaking in on her friend’s thoughts, “how would you like to model a new gown at an art and fashion show at the Woman’s Club?

“Katherine has agreed to help with the fashion part of the exhibit. A special prize is to be awarded to the designer of the most original and attractive dress.”

“Of course I’ll do it,” Nancy promised.

“It starts next Thursday. There will be three afternoon showings and one on Saturday night.”

“Can you design and make a dress so soon, Katherine?” Nancy asked.

“I can try,” the other replied.

“The fashion show will be a great way to have Katherine’s talents recognized,” went on Helen. “She ought to win first prize.”

“I’m thinking of a design now—a modem one, but it have the touch of the Renaissance period,” Katherine said dreamily. “An evening dress with a short train.” She paused a moment. “Every detail I want correct.”

The following afternoon Nancy went to the Archer home for the first fitting. The dress was barely started, but she could tell that it would be beautiful.

“The blue of the flowered silk exactly match your eyes,” Katherine said. “I take a tuck here, and I shorten the train. Then tomorrow it is finished.”

“And your reputation will be made!” Helen cried gaily. “With Nancy modeling the dress, you’re certain to get many clients.”

Nancy laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

She knew that Katherine’s success meant everything to her. In the meantime, Nancy intended to devote every moment possible to finding Francis Baum.

“Why so quiet, Nancy?” Mr. Drew inquired at breakfast the next day.

His daughter had no chance to reply. From outside came a shrill scream, unmistakably the voice of Hannah Gruen.

Thoroughly alarmed, the Drews ran to the front door. A ferocious-looking German shepherd dog was jumping around and would not let the housekeeper approach the door.

“Don’t come out!” the woman warned Nancy and her father. “The dog may attack you.”

At that moment the animal turned of his own accord and went off. At once Hannah Gruen gained the safety of the hall.

“I was looking for the newspaper when the dog came up behind me and growled,” she explained. “I’m sorry I screamed, but the animal frightened me.”

“I wonder where he came from,” said Nancy.

The question was answered by the arrival of a young man, who obviously was his master.

“Hope Rudy didn’t frighten you,” the dog’s owner apologized. “He broke away from me.”

The voice struck Nancy as oddly familiar. Then her heart began to beat a little faster. She recognized him as Francis Baum.

“Oh, good morning! Aren’t you Mr. Baum?”

“I am,” he admitted promptly. “And you are Miss Drew, who left a message for me?”

With difficulty Nancy controlled her excitement, and tried to speak in a calm, casual voice. “I have a picture which I think belongs to you.”

“Of a boy in a sailor suit?”

“Yes, apparently it fell from your wallet when it was stolen.”

“I’m certainly glad you found the picture. It’s important,” Baum replied.

“Important?” asked Nancy, trying not to show how eager she was to hear his answer.

“It may get me some relatives and a fortune someday,” the man boasted.

‘“We’d better go inside,” said Mr. Drew. “Have you had breakfast?” he inquired.

Nancy had told her father of her belief that Francis Baum was the long-missing prince.

The caller accepted quickly, his dog trailing him inside. Mrs. Gruen set an extra place at the table, all the while eying Rudy with suspicion.

Mr. Drew reopened the conversation by asking where their guest had been born. Nancy was not surprised to hear that it was in Mrs. Alexandra’s native land.

“When did you come to this country, Mr. Baum?” her father inquired.

“Don’t remember exactly. I was just a little kid when I was brought to America.”

Nancy tried not to notice that Mr. Baum was cramming toast into his mouth and clattering the silverware noisily as he ate. Surely the nurse of a prince would have taught him better table manners!

Without any prodding, Baum added, “I wouldn’t mind locating some of my real folks, but I don’t know how to do it.”

This was Nancy’s cue to say that she might be able to help him. But she was rather dismayed to hear herself say in a tone not very friendly:

“Mr. Baum, if you have proper credentials—if you actually can prove you are the person in the photograph—I can lead you to your grandmother.”

“Honestly? Where is she?” he demanded.

“I can’t tell you that until you produce proof of your identity.”

“I don’t get it,” Francis Baum said. “If you think I’m a fake—”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest that I doubt you,” Nancy corrected hurriedly.

“Bring your credentials to us soon, Mr. Baum,” said Carson Drew, his tone ending the interview. “And thank you for calling.”

As soon as the young man had gone, Hannah voiced her candid opinion of him.

“If he’s a lost prince, then I’m a queen! Did you see the way he gobbled his food?”

Mr. Drew frowned. “I guess he was very hungry.”

Mrs. Gruen continued, “He didn’t show any refinement at all!”

“He talked rather well at first,” Nancy remarked. “But toward the end he almost seemed like a different person.”

“You forgot to give him the lost photograph,” Mr. Drew reminded her.

“I didn’t forget, Dad. I decided to keep it until I’m sure of his claims.”

“Then you distrust Baum?”

“Not exactly. I’ll admit I don’t like him. He doesn’t bear the slightest resemblance to the boy in the photograph.”

“Mark my words,” Hannah announced flatly, “he’ll never show up with any credentials.”

The housekeeper’s prediction proved to be wrong. Francis Baum returned, bearing a package which contained a letter written by his former nurse, and a small toy lamb with a jeweled collar. Much as she disliked to do so, Nancy felt compelled to invite the young man to stay to lunch.

“When can I see my grandmother?” Francis Baum asked Nancy as he again ate ravenously.

“Soon, I hope,” she replied. “I will talk with her today, and show her the letter and the toy.”

“Why can’t I see her myself?” he asked sullenly.

“I have my reasons,” Nancy replied. “If you expect me to help, you’ll have to wait. Your credentials seem satisfactory, but only your grandmother can determine whether or not they’re genuine.”

“She’ll recognize these things all right,” he replied confidently.

Three o’clock found Nancy seated in Mrs. Alexandra’s home with the letter spread out on a table between them. A lump came into her throat as she watched the woman caress the toy lamb.

“My darling grandson played with this in his nursery,” the former queen said, smiling. “I gave it to him myself on his third birthday.”

‘And the letter? Can you identify that, too?”

Mrs. Alexandra scanned the worn sheet of paper.

“Yes, this is the handwriting of my grandson’s faithful nurse, Nada. The young man
is
my lost Michael! Have him pack his belongings at once and come here to live.”

CHAPTER VII

Mistaken Identity