The Scarlet Slipper Mystery (10 page)

Late in the morning the girls started out. They had the top down, took turns at the wheel, and enjoyed the bright-blue sky and delightful countryside along the way.

But Nancy did not completely forget the errand on which they had embarked. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the stolen ballet slippers that belonged to Helene’s mother,” she remarked. “They must have some special significance.”

“Maybe something was hidden in them, too,” Bess suggested.

“Possibly. But it’s strange that neither Helene nor Henri knew about it ”

The girls reached Harwich late in the afternoon and drove immediately to the attractive building that housed the Harwich School of the Dance. As Nancy and her friends walked into the reception room, they saw Helene’s portrait in a prominent position on the wall.

“How lovely!” Bess murmured.

The painting portrayed the girl in a graceful glissade. It was so realistic, Helene looked as though she were about to glide right off the canvas.

An attractive, blond woman in a ballet costume came forward and introduced herself as Miss Desmond, the director of the school. George identified herself as the one who had talked with her on the telephone that morning and introduced Nancy and Bess. Then she added, “Nancy is an amateur detective. She’s investigating a case we think involves the smuggling of precious stones. We believe that they were hidden in the pigment of certain pictures. Yours may be one of them.”

“Oh, dear!” Miss Desmond exclaimed. “I hope this won’t involve me. I know nothing about the smuggled gems.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that,” said George. She regretted having been so blunt.

“This must be a shock to you,” Nancy added understandingly. “But would you mind if we examine the picture closely?”

Her quick eye had detected a spot where the pigment had been tampered with.

“Go ahead,” Miss Desmond said.

Nancy took a small magnifying glass from her handbag and scrutinized the painting.

“Something has been removed from the picture, I’m sure,” she said after a moment. “And,” Nancy added, her voice excited, “if I’m not mistaken, there is still one stone hidden!”

“What!” Miss Desmond exclaimed in disbelief.

Nancy pointed to the spot and asked, “Will you let me prove it?”

“Why, certainly, but you don’t think I——” the worried director began.

Nancy smiled at the woman. “We believe you bought the picture without knowing all this.”

Miss Desmond looked relieved and watched as Nancy took the palette knife with the initial R on it from her bag and began to scrape the white pigment in one ruffle of the skirt. Finally a large lump came off in her hand. She scraped at it even faster. A moment later she uncovered a sparkling diamond!

“I just can’t believe it!” Miss Desmond cried, as Bess and George gasped. “I-I certainly got my money’s worth, didn’t I?” Then instantly an expression of alarm crossed her face. “But I may be holding stolen property! What shall I do with the stone?”

“I’d suggest,” said Nancy, “that you come with me to the Harwich Police Station and leave the diamond there until the case is cleared up.”

The dancing-school director said the sooner she got rid of the diamond, and the painting too, the better! Miss Desmond was glad to sell the painting to Nancy for ten dollars.

She accompanied Nancy to the police station, while the cousins remained at the school to admit the next class of pupils. The director sighed when the ordeal was over.

“Thank you, Nancy, for getting me out of an embarrassing situation,” she said. “And good luck in solving the mystery.”

Nancy, Bess, and George spent the night in a hotel in Harwich. They started on their return journey early the next morning, with the painting stored in the trunk. As they drove along—all three girls on the front seat—they discussed the various facets of the case.

Presently Nancy said, “I have a strange feeling that those little figurines that were sold to Mr. Howard, the jeweler, were also used to smuggle jewels into this country—maybe by the same group.”

“And Mr. Warte removed them and tried to patch up the cracks?” Bess suggested.

“Yes.”

Hours later, as Nancy took a road leading away from River Heights, George pointed out that Nancy had taken the wrong turn.

“I know,” said Nancy. “I thought we’d stop to see Helene and Henri and leave this picture.”

Presently they turned into the woods road leading to the Nickerson cabin. Nancy had to drive slowly because of the twists and turns on the winding trail.

Rounding a sharp curve, Nancy almost ran into a barrier across the road. A bridge over a stream was down and sawhorses had been set up to warn motorists.

As Nancy jammed on the brake, George said in disgust, “Well, of all things! Why didn’t they put up a sign where we entered this road?”

“What’ll we do, Nancy?” Bess asked. “Walk the rest of the way?”

“I suppose so,” Nancy said.

She had her hand on the door handle to turn it when a voice behind the girls called in a heavy French accent, “Do not turn around! You are my prisoners and will do exactly what I tell you!”

THE unseen speaker hopped into the rear seat of Nancy’s convertible.

Obeying his instructions, the three girls had not turned around, but in the rearview mirror Nancy had caught sight of the cruel-looking man. He was the person she had come to know as Judson!

“Clever of me, wasn’t it, to pick up your trail?” he boasted. “I’ve been following you for miles, hoping for a chance to stop you. I thought you might turn in here, because you’ve done so before. I knew the bridge was out and hurried ahead of you to take down the warning sign at the entrance to the road.” He laughed sardonically.

The next moment Bess screamed. Judson had shoved a sharp palette knife between her face and Nancy’s! He withdrew it, then said, “One false move and I’ll use this to advantage! You’d better believe me so don’t test your luck.”

Bess looked faint and George’s jaw was set grimly. Nancy, after the first shock was over, said evenly, “What do you want us to do?”

“You are going to be nice young ladies and lead me to the Fontaines!”

Nancy thought quickly. Her first idea was to get the man out of the convertible.

“What about your car?” she asked, wondering where it was. She could not see it in the mirror.

Judson laughed harshly. “I know how clever you are, Nancy Drew. I am not falling for your trick to get me out of this car so that you and your friends can escape. Now back up and don’t get any crazy ideas.”

Nancy nudged Bess and murmured, “Don’t worry!” She put the car into reverse and backed out of the winding road. Judson’s car was hidden just beyond the bend.

In spite of their predicament, the young sleuth felt a sense of satisfaction. Judson’s desperate action clearly indicated that he did not know where the Fontaines were hiding!

Nancy sensed, too, that one of the reasons he wanted to ride in the car was that he did not care to walk through the woods with the three girls. In a struggle to get free, his prisoners would be more than a match for him!

At the main road, Nancy decided to stay on the highway as long as Judson would allow it, hoping to meet a State Police patrol car. But she had driven only a short distance when Judson said, “I know the Fontaines aren’t hidden along the highway. Get off it and lead me to them! Be quick about it!”

George had surmised Nancy’s plan. Carefully concealing her action, she slipped a note pad and pencil out of her purse. Holding it on her lap where Judson could not see it, George wrote, “Do you want Bess and me to tackle him?”

Nancy glanced at the note. Slowly taking her right hand from the wheel, she wrote, “Not yet.”

As she continued to drive with one hand, Judson evidently noticed her right hand was out of sight. He placed the point of the palette knife between Nancy’s shoulders and barked, “Keep both hands on the wheel, where I can see them!”

Nancy complied immediately and turned into a side road. The knife was removed. The young detective knew the countryside around River Heights well. She recalled that Bert Fraser, a state trooper, lived on one of the back lanes in the vicinity.

“I’ll head for his house and hope he’ll be there,” she said to herself.

Nancy took the road leading to the Fraser home. As they went farther and farther from the highway, Judson apparently was pleased.

Nancy smiled when she saw one corner of the trooper’s house appear at the top of a hill.

When they neared it and Nancy began to slow down, Judson said, “Are the Fontaines here?”

Nancy did not answer. She braked the car to a stop near the front porch. At almost the same moment, the trooper opened the door and came out, dressed in full uniform. Nancy and George already had the car doors open on each side and jumped out.

Bess cried, “Officer, we’re being kidnapped!”

“Kidnapped?” the trooper exclaimed, running down the steps.

At the same instant Judson made a flying leap over the back of the car, and sprinted toward the woods on the opposite side of the road.

“We must catch him!” Nancy urged.

The officer and the three girls dashed among the trees in pursuit of Judson. They could hear him crashing through the underbrush. As they ran on, Nancy gasped out her story.

At a clearing near the brow of the hill they caught a glimpse of the man. Officer Fraser shouted at him to stop, but Judson ignored the command. He swerved to one side and again plunged into the cover of the woods.

They zigzagged through the woods for fifteen minutes. Suddenly Nancy realized that they were chasing the man directly toward the Nickerson cabin! She warned the others, saying, “It would be better to let him go than have him find the Fontaines! Let’s give up the chase. Then maybe he’ll head for the main road. His car is hidden back where he stopped us.”

“All right,” the policeman agreed. “I have my radio car at the house. I’ll go back and send out a general alarm. You can follow at your leisure.”

Nancy and George felt as fresh as ever, but poor Bess was panting and insisted upon resting a few minutes. By the time they reached Bert Fraser’s home, he had already contacted headquarters.

“I think we have him bottled up,” the officer told them. “The police will set a trap for him.”

“Thanks for helping us,” Nancy said. “I’m sorry I let Judson slip through my fingers.”

The trooper smiled. “Would you like to go along with me and help us capture him?”

Nancy beamed. “I sure would! At least I’d like to talk to Judson.” She turned to Bess and George. “Shall we follow in my car or would you two rather take the convertible and go home? I could ride with Mr. Fraser.”

“We’ll see this thing through,” George declared.

“Stay close behind me,” Fraser directed, “And, Miss Drew, suppose you ride in my car.”

Nancy climbed in with the trooper and they drove off. She was fascinated by the constant exchange of information over the radio between State Police headquarters and the individual patrol cars.

When they reached the main highway, she looked back to make certain that the cousins were following. The girls waved to indicate that everything was fine.

The trip to the Cedar Lake road was rapid. Another police car was already there. Bert Fraser jumped out and ran over to talk to his colleagues. In a few minutes he was back.

“Judson’s car was gone when they arrived,” he told Nancy. “He must have made a fast getaway!”

Nancy was not sure that it was Judson who had taken the car. He might have had an accomplice. She decided to find out whether or not Judson had found the Fontaines.

“I think the girls and I will call on friends of ours who are staying at a cabin on the lake,” she told the trooper. “Thank you for all your help.”

Nancy explained her plan to Bess and George, who had pulled up in back of the officer’s car. They got out, crossed the stream on its temporary footbridge, and walked to the Nickerson cabin.

As they approached the cabin, Nancy’s heart sank. No one was sitting on the porch. And although it was a warm day, every window in the cabin was closed. The boats were tied up at the wharf, and the lakefront was deserted. There was an eerie stillness about the area.

Nancy hastened to try the front door of the cabin. It was locked. A check showed that all the windows and the rear door were locked as well. Instantly worried looks appeared on the three girls’ faces.

“Judson got here first!” Bess wailed. “He’s kidnapped Helene and Henri!”

WHILE Nancy was trying to form her own opinion about the Fontaines’ absence from the cabin, George said hesitantly, “Perhaps we were wrong to trust Helene and Henri. They may be part of the smuggling gang. When Henri realized that you had discovered that impasto technique for hiding gems, he may have decided to disappear. You’ll have to admit he was skillful in hiding the stones from Bess’s pin.”