The Hidden Window Mystery (6 page)

One arrangement, in particular, attracted the girls. This was a bed set in a space between two rooms so that Mr. Jefferson could get out on either side, depending on whether he wanted to be in his dressing room or in his study. During the day the bed could be drawn into the ceiling to allow free circulation of air between the two rooms.

“That’s for me!” Bess exclaimed. “You’d never get out on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Let’s go on now to James Monroe’s home,” Susan suggested. “You’ll find it more simple, but the gardens have the most beautiful boxwood you’ve ever seen.”

Back in the car again, they drove up the winding mountain road until they came to Ash Lawn. James Monroe, the fifth president of the United States, had built it here to be near his friend Thomas Jefferson.

Susan told them that Ash Lawn was smaller and more informal. A path lined with beautiful boxwood hedges led up to the door. Inside, a mirror hanging on the opposite wall reflected the path, making it appear extremely long.

After leaving Ash Lawn, Susan took the girls to three other estates. At each one Nancy inquired whether the owner had heard of any medieval stained-glass windows in the area that had a peacock in the design. In each case the answer was no.

“I guess we’ll have to give up for today,” said Susan, glancing at the car clock. “It’s getting late.”

The girls agreed and they started home. Susan had driven only two miles when she exclaimed, “Why didn’t I think of this before!”

“Think of what?” Nancy asked.

“The Dowds. They live around the next bend. They have a perfectly fascinating home, and Mrs. Dowd knows about everything in the neighborhood. If that window is in any home around the Charlottesville area, she’ll know it!”

“Then let’s talk to her!” Nancy urged.

Susan turned into the winding driveway of the Dowd place and pulled up in front of an austere, white-painted brick mansion. Fortunately Mrs. Dowd was at home. She greeted Susan effusively.

“And bless you, dear, you’ve brought some very attractive friends,” she said. Susan introduced them.

Mrs. Dowd, fiftyish, was a great talker and the girls did not have a chance to say anything. She expressed her delight at meeting the visitors from River Heights and instantly mentioned two people she knew there. Mrs. Dowd bubbled along in the one-sided conversation until Susan finally interrupted diplomatically.

“Nancy would like to ask you some questions,” she requested.

“Yes, dear, go ahead,” said Mrs. Dowd. “What is it you want to know?”

Nancy quickly told her, and to the girl’s elation Mrs. Dowd said, “Well, I declare! Now maybe I can lead you all right to that reward.”

Her eyes glistened. “You know, up in our attic, piled in one corner, are parts of a stained-glass window. It was hanging up once. I admit to being a right lazy individual when it comes to working out puzzles, so I’ve never tried putting the old thing together.”

She rose and invited her guests to follow her to the attic. All the way up to the third floor she kept apologizing about the dust and cobwebs that they would probably find, because it was so difficult to get help these days.

“As for myself,” said Mrs. Dowd, “I never go near the place!”

Fortunately, there were bright lights in the attic and a large cleared space in the center. The girls brought the glass sections to this spot and got down on their hands and knees to try figuring out how the pieces would fit to make a picture. Mrs. Dowd became so excited that she helped them.

“This is a jigsaw puzzle on a large scale,” George remarked.

“And just about as hard,” Bess added.

By the end of an hour a large section of the window had been put together. Though the picture was not complete, it was evident that the stained-glass window did not portray a knight riding a white horse and carrying a shield with a peacock design.

Finally Nancy stood up. “Mrs. Dowd,” she said, “you’ve been a wonderful sport, letting us raid your attic and work on this. Unfortunately, this is not the window we’re looking for. Would you like us to put the pieces back where they were?”

“Oh no indeed,” said Mrs. Dowd. “I declare I’m going to finish this if it takes me a year! I’ve always been curious to know what this little old window was. I’ll get my husband to help me finish putting the pieces together.”

The girls then followed Mrs. Dowd down the stairs. As they said good-by to her, she wished them luck in finding the right window.

The road to Susan’s home led directly past the Bradshaw farm. Nancy, who had put the paper model of the footprint in her purse, said, “Susan, if it’s not too near dinner time, let’s call on Mr. Bradshaw. I’d like to ask him a couple of questions.”

“All right.” Susan turned in at Waverly, saying, “You know I’ve been in the Bradshaw home several times, but I’ve never visited the studio. It will be interesting to see it.”

As before, the door stood open and Mr. Bradshaw came to greet his visitors. “Susan!” he cried out in delight. “I’m so glad to see you and your friends.”

The callers stepped out of the car and walked into the studio. A man of about forty was standing by the bench under which Nancy had found the copy of
Continental.
He was short, dark, and had very bright small eyes.

Mr. Bradshaw waved toward the stranger and said to his callers, “I’d like to present my new assistant. He has been with me a week. This is Mr. Alonzo Rugby.”

 

 

 

BESS was so startled to hear the name of the man the girls were searching for that she gasped and stepped back. Alonzo Rugby’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he came forward to acknowledge the introduction. Mr. Bradshaw looked at Susan and the girls, waiting for an explanation before giving their names to his assistant.

“I—I’m dreadfully sorry,” said Bess, recovering. She giggled. “I’ve heard Mr. Rugby is a famous artist. I was impressed to think I was actually meeting him.”

Mr. Bradshaw raised his eyebrows but did not comment. He introduced the girls to Rugby.

“I’m happy to meet you,” the assistant said. “I don’t know where you heard about my being a great artist. The person must have me mixed up with Mr. Bradshaw.
He’s
a great artist. I’m merely a pupil.

Nancy was pleased that at last she had found Mrs. Dondo’s brother. She thought, “The first thing I must do is try to find out if his shoes fit my paper pattern.”

Nancy noticed that Rugby had taken off his street shoes and put on soft slippers. If she could only find some way to compare the size and shape of his shoes, as well as those of Mr. Bradshaw’s, with her paper patterns!

The young sleuth decided that the best way to accomplish this and to watch both men would be to visit the studio as often as possible. As an idea came to her, she said aloud, “Mr. Bradshaw, I’m terribly intrigued by stained-glass window-making. I was wondering if you would mind giving me a few lessons while I’m visiting my cousin?”

The artist looked surprised and did not reply at once. Alonzo Rugby, however, said bluntly, “Mr. Bradshaw is not only a great artist but a very busy man, Miss Drew.”

Nancy was fearful that Mr. Bradshaw, backed by his assistant, might refuse her request.

But Susan Carr came to her rescue. Smiling at Mr. Bradshaw, she coaxed, “Oh, Nancy is not a beginner. She has attended art school.”

If Mr. Bradshaw had been wavering in his decision, he was persuaded by this remark. “All right,” he said. “I’ll be happy to give you a few lessons. Suppose you come tomorrow morning.”

Nancy was thrilled. Not only could she learn something from this very fine artist, but perhaps she could unravel the mystery about Mrs. Dondo’s brother.

“If he’s as bad as Mr. Dondo says, I’m surprised that Mr. Bradshaw would associate with him,” Nancy said to herself. Then a troubling thought struck her. Were the two men in league?

“It doesn’t seem possible,” she decided. “Mr. Bradshaw is such a gentleman.” Aloud she said, “I’ll be here by ten o’clock. Thank you so much, Mr. Bradshaw.”

The girl detective had come close to the artist. Now she surreptitiously put her own foot near his and glanced down to make some quick mental measurements. It looked as if Mr. Bradshaw could definitely be eliminated as the suspect who had injured her.

Nancy maneuvered to get near Alonzo Rugby’s street shoes, which he had placed under the bench. She accomplished this when he walked away. As Nancy slid one foot alongside the pair, her heart leaped. The man would bear further investigation!

While Mr. Bradshaw was showing the group a cartoon on which he was working, Alonzo Rugby took Bess by the arm and led her aside. Out of hearing of the others, he whispered, “I want to give you a warning, miss. Don’t let your friend come here to take lessons. Mr. Bradshaw’s wife is the jealous type. A couple of times when he’s had woman students she made life miserable for them. So you had better keep your friend away from here!”

“How do I know this is true?” Bess asked airily.

Alonzo Rugby said she would have to take his word for it. Before he could add anything, Mr. Bradshaw turned around.

“Better get back to the cutting table, Alonzo,” he said pleasantly. “We need that glass for tomorrow morning.”

Alonzo immediately returned to his work, and Bess joined the others. A few minutes later Susan and her friends left the studio. As they rode toward Seven Oaks, Nancy asked Bess what she and Alonzo had been talking about.

“Making a date?” George asked flippantly.

Bess blushed and said indignantly, “Of course not! But, Nancy, you mustn’t go there and take lessons from Mr. Bradshaw!”

“Why not?” Nancy asked in amazement. Bess repeated Rugby’s warning.

At once Susan said, “Why, that’s utterly ridiculous. Alicia Bradshaw is one of the loveliest women I know. She most certainly is not jealous and never interferes with his work.”

Bess looked uncomfortable and her cousin chided her. “I’m surprised at your falling for such a story,” George said.

“Well, I’m glad it happened,” said Nancy. “Bess has been a bigger help than you give her credit for, George. This convinces me that Alonzo Rugby doesn’t want me around that studio.”

“But why?” Susan asked.

Nancy told them of her latest conclusions about the man who had peered in the window. “If he
was
Rugby, I’m going to find out!” she said with determination.

“He’s dangerous!” Bess exclaimed. “Oh, Nancy, don’t go to the studio.”

Susan spoke up. “I think Bess is right. If he’s the kind of person you think he is, you’d better cancel your appointment.”

Nancy said she did not want to miss this opportunity to ferret out the facts. “I’ll be perfectly safe with Mr. Bradshaw there. I promise you that if he leaves the studio for long, I’ll come home.”

Since it had been a busy day, the girls were glad to retire early. The next morning Nancy took her cousin’s car and set off for Waverly, the paper footprint in her purse. Bess and George were going to play golf with Susan.

When Nancy reached the studio, both Mr. Bradshaw and his assistant were there. Rugby barely nodded to her and went on with his work. He was cutting glass at a bench.

“Good morning, Nancy,” Mr. Bradshaw said cheerfully. “I’ve been thinking that the best way for you to start learning the window-making process would be to make a few sketches—any kind you wish. Then I’ll tell you whether they would divide up well for leading.”

He led Nancy to a drawing board, gave her a smock, paper, and some crayons, then went back to his own work.

Nancy sat, lost in thought for several minutes, then drew a sketch of her dog Togo. She used a background of flowering azaleas and forsythia. Not satisfied with the sketch, she next tried a religious subject. In all she made five before calling Mr. Bradshaw.

“I’m ready,” she said.

All this time Nancy had been aware that Alonzo Rugby had been watching her covertly. He continually found excuses to leave his workbench and glance at Nancy’s sketches. Several times it seemed as though he wanted to say something but had thought better of it and had gone back to his work.

Mr. Bradshaw now looked at the various pictures she had made. “You do have talent,” he said, smiling. “I especially like the picture of the little dog. Is he yours?”

Nancy nodded. Mr. Bradshaw finally remarked that while it would not be impossible to make stained-glass windows from any of the sketches, none of them was exactly right for the best leading process.

“When using human figures,” he said, “it is advisable to show them in an upright position. Or, if they’re leaning over, they must be seen in profile. The same applies to animals. Your picture of the dog is very appealing, but with the light coming through a window, his figure would look foreshortened.”

Nancy thanked the artist for his constructive comments. “I’ll make a few more sketches,” she said.

A banjo clock on the studio wall had just chimed eleven-thirty when Nancy finished her next one. She had drawn a peacock, its fan spread wide open. She felt that if Mr. Bradshaw and Rugby saw it, possibly one or the other would show any unusual interest he might have in the Greystone window. On impulse, Nancy had made the peacock the size she thought the bird on the shield might be.

“It’s pretty good, even if I say so myself,” the young sleuth thought.

As she gazed at it, wondering whether she should call Mr. Bradshaw over, the artist suddenly stood up. He announced that he was going outside to look for a flower of a certain shade of blue to use in a window. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

Nancy fervently hoped Alonzo would follow. Then she could compare his shoe with the paper pattern.

But she was disappointed. The assistant did get up, but instead of going out the door, he turned and came directly to Nancy’s drawing board.