Authors: Carolyn Keene

Tags: #Art Thieves, #Jewel Thieves, #Women Detectives, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Girls & Women, #Mystery & Detective, #Dance Schools, #Juvenile Fiction, #Adventure and Adventurers, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Fiction, #Adventures and Adventurers, #Mystery Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #Adventure Stories, #Mystery & Detective Stories, #Drew; Nancy (Fictitious Character), #General, #Smuggling, #Mystery and Detective Stories

The Scarlet Slipper Mystery (14 page)

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“All right,” Donovan said, handing it to her. “I’d like to watch a girl detective work. But would you mind telling me why you need it?”

Nancy said that if the missing Fontaines had been at the house, Helene probably would have practiced her dancing. She was searching for signs of this.

“Ballet dancers,” Nancy explained, “never let a day go by without working. They have to keep their muscles in perfect condition.”

Nancy got down on her hands and knees and began examining the floor. Suddenly she stopped.

“Look here!” she cried excitedly. “This floor has been waxed recently. And see these long slide marks and rounded dents in the waxed surface? These were made by toe shoes.”

“Hmmm,” said Donovan. “Guess you’re right. But say, can these folks dance without music?”

“Why certainly,” Nancy said.

Just then Ned walked into the room. “I have a clue for you, Nancy!” he said.

The young man had called the telephone company and obtained the name of the party under which the farmhouse phone was listed.

“Does the name Raymond Bull mean anything to you?” he asked.

“Indeed it does!” Nancy replied. “He’s the Frenchman who was on the plane from New York to River Heights with Mr. Koff and me.”

“Could it be an alias of Renee’s?” Ned asked.

“That’s possible.”

Further search of the house disclosed no clues that would indicate the destination of the fugitives or give any inkling of their plans. The young people said good night to Donovan and drove the other officer back to headquarters.

At the police station, Nancy stopped to find out whether Mrs. Judson had confessed or whether she had had any suspicious callers.

Captain Crane shook his head. “We’ve tried to get Mrs. Judson to talk, but she refuses.”

“Did you search her handbag and other personal belongings?” Nancy asked.

“Oh, yes,” Captain Crane replied. “One of our matrons handled that, but she found nothing of any use in the case.” The captain went on to say that there had been no report on the black sedan and its occupants.

It was nearly midnight when Nancy and Ned reached River Heights. Nancy was weary and slept late the following morning. As she awakened, the young sleuth found herself looking up into the faces of Hannah Gruen, Bess, and George.

“Well, sleepyhead,” George said, seating herself on the edge of Nancy’s four-poster. “Tell us everything!”

The girls listened attentively. After Nancy had eaten her breakfast, she told her friends she was heading back to the farmhouse in Brandon. “This time I’m going to search the barn from top to bottom,” she declared. “Want to join me?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” George declared.

Bess was hesitant until Nancy assured her that the place was being guarded by the police.

When the girls reached Renee’s hideout, Officer Donovan welcomed Nancy with a wide smile.

Nancy introduced her friends and explained that they were going to search the barn for clues. The three entered the rickety building and found that the main floor contained nothing but a few pieces of obsolete machinery.

“Hayloft next,” said George.

Working in various locations of the loft, they began pulling the loose hay apart. Suddenly Nancy exclaimed, “Girls, here’s a briefcase hidden in the hay.”

The cousins rushed over. “Is it Mr. Koff’s?” Bess asked excitedly.

CHAPTER XIX

Desperate Measures

WITH Bess and George waiting eagerly, Nancy looked inside the briefcase and exclaimed, “This is Mr. Koff’s, all right! Here’s his full name and address pasted on the inside.”

Bess, peering over Nancy’s shoulder, suddenly cried out, “Oh, Nancy, put it down!”

“Why?” George demanded.

“Because,” Bess told her fearfully, “there’s a note that says, ” ‘Do not read the contents or you will die!’”

“That’s ridiculous,” George said in disgust. “Nancy, you aren’t going to let that stop you, are you?”

“Not that threat,” Nancy replied, “because I doubt that Mr. Koff wrote it. I would return the briefcase to him without looking at the letters except for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Nancy picked up an envelope on which had been scrawled
from Red Buzby.

“Remember the red-haired man?” she asked. “I think this is a real clue. I vote we take the briefcase into the house and read every single letter—if we can. They may be in Centrovian.”

The girls climbed down the hayloft ladder and went to the house. Nancy looked around for Officer Donovan to tell him what she was going to do, but the guard was not in sight.

“Phew! What a strong odor of kerosene!” Bess said. “What would that policeman be doing with kerosene?”

Nancy shrugged. She was too interested in getting at the letters to care.

The first floor of the house had only one small table in the kitchen, so the three girls went upstairs to the front room and spread out the contents of the briefcase on the bed. They had been written in French and Nancy translated one after another. She could readily see why Mr. Koff had not wanted them to fall into enemy hands. The letters hinted at drastic movements of the underground against the Centrovian occupation.

Suddenly George interrupted Nancy. “Here’s a typed carbon of one in English signed
Buzby.”
She read it aloud:

Dear Pal, I have a plan worked out for selling these letters to those guys in Europe. It should bring us plenty in good American dollars.

“How wicked!” Bess exclaimed.

Nancy nodded. “I’m glad we located these letters before they were sold.”

She and her friends found several other notations signed by Buzby. One of these, apparently an answer to some inquiry that had been made, read:

Don’t worry. Nobody will ever find out who Judson is. 10561-B-24.

“The mysterious number again!” Bess exclaimed. “Whatever does it mean?”

“I have an idea,” said Nancy, “and if I’m right the number will go a long way toward tying this mystery together.”

She picked up the telephone and called her father, who was working in his study at home. After reporting her discovery to him, she said, “Will you please call the French embassy and ask whether 10561-B-24 could have been a passport number, and if so, to whom it was issued?”

“I’ll do it right away,” the lawyer assured her.

As Nancy hung up and turned around, the girls heard a loud clattering in the hall below and went to the stairway to investigate.

Henri and Helene Fontaine were rushing up the steps!

“Nancy!” the dancers cried and Helene hugged her friend fervently. “Bess! George! We’re so glad to see you!”

The girls were speechless, but finally Bess blurted out, “You—you’re not smugglers? You didn’t run away?”

“We were spirited away,” Helene replied. “We were told how that dreadful man Renee had accused us of stealing the painting with the scarlet slippers.”

“And also of stealing a fortune in jewels,” Henri added.

“Tell us everything,” Nancy begged, leading the way into the room. “It’s so good to see you.”

As Henri began to talk, Bess went to close the door. The odor of kerosene was very strong now. Again she wondered what Officer Donovan was doing with it.

“Helene and I,” said Henri, “have been held prisoners ever since leaving Ned’s cabin. We were brought here first by two men named Red Buzby and Duparc.”

“Buzby!” Nancy exclaimed. “He’s the one who probably stole the briefcase and planned to sell the letters! But go on.”

Henri continued, “It seems Renee had rented this place, but Buzby was using it while Renee was off on a false lead Red had given him. The day after we arrived here, Buzby got word that Renee was returning in a rage, so we were taken to another deserted farmhouse located not far from here.”

“Then it wasn’t you two who were in the car that Ned saw leaving here yesterday,” Nancy said.

“No. We were already at the other farmhouse. We managed to escape a little while ago, when we found our guard had gone off duty.”

Helene took up the story. “We phoned your house at once. When Hannah Gruen told us that you were here, we were fearful for your safety and came right over.”

Nancy was touched deeply by their loyalty. “If your kidnappers come here, they’ll be met by a policeman,” she said. “Now please go on with the story. But first, I want to tell you that these papers are Mr. Koff’s. I found this briefcase.”

“How wonderful!” Helene exclaimed. Then she said, “Henri and I were so happy at the Nickerson lodge. Then late one afternoon two strange men came to the door—Buzby and Duparc. They threatened us with guns and there was nothing we could do but follow them to a car. There was no time to leave a note.”

Helene said that she had phoned Nancy from the farmhouse, but Buzby had caught her. He had already sent a woman friend to the telegraph office with a fake message for Nancy.

Henri smiled slightly. “But we told Buzby that Nancy knew about the smuggling racket and was closing in on the gang.”

“Then what happened?” George prompted.

“They sneered and said nobody could prove them guilty. But since we were never going to be free, they would tell us the whole story.”

The Fontaines said that Renee and Amien were partners in the theft of the Centrovian jewels from the underground and in the smuggling racket. They had worked on it for months and everything had gone smoothly. First the bisque figurines were sent to the United States, then eleven of the paintings.

“But before the last picture was ready to be shipped,” said Henri, “Amien double-crossed Renee. He secretly sent the portrait with the scarlet slippers. Under the paint was a good part of the loot. He was in league with a New York art dealer named Duparc. Amien came to this country to share the money from the sale of the jewels with Duparc.”

“And left Renee out?” Bess asked.

“Yes. Duparc is Amien’s brother-in-law. He also uses the name Warte.”

Nancy said excitedly, “I see how you Fontaines figured in it. Amien sent you the warning note in France to make you flee and thus look guilty, so Renee wouldn’t suspect his partner of double-crossing him.”

“Exactly.” Henri nodded. “But after a while, when no money came to Renee from the sale of jewels; he became suspicious and sailed for the United States. When he learned Duparc had disappeared, he was convinced he had been cheated and set out to find Amien and Duparc and us.”

George said, “I don’t see where Buzby figures in the deal.”

Henri explained that Buzby was serving both sides and getting money from everyone. Actually, he was a small-time racketeer who was related to Mrs. Amien, alias Mrs. Judson.

“Buzby,” said Henri, “acted as a spy for Amien. When Amien learned that Renee was in the United States, he sent Red Buzby to meet him. He found Renee eager to catch up with his crooked partner and Buzby assured him he knew just where to find Raoul Amien. But he led Renee on a merry chase to keep him from finding Amien.”

“But I suppose,” said Nancy, “that Renee caught on.”

“Yes. He accused Buzby of tricking him.”

“What did Buzby do then?” Bess asked.

Henri said that Buzby’s glib tongue and quick brain had saved him. He told Renee he knew all about the man’s crooked operations in France, that the authorities there were looking for him, and that he could make plenty of trouble for Renee.

“Buzby is a bad one,” Helene said. “Renee tried to get away from him. He began to look for Amien himself and trailed him to River Heights. At this point Amien became desperate and sent a second note to Henri and me to flee.”

“But that was where his plan went wrong,” George remarked. “Nancy stepped into the picture and really whisked you folks out of sight, which frightened Amien.”

As George finished speaking and Henri said, “That is true,” Nancy suddenly sniffed. Then she glanced toward the sill of the closed door.

Smoke was
seeping
into the room!

Nancy jumped to the door. Flinging it open, she found the hall filled with smoke.

“The house is on fire!” she cried in dismay.

Nancy could now hear flames crackling below. She slammed the door shut and rushed to the window, looking for a means of escape. To her horror, she discovered that the grass, bushes, and side of the house were ablaze.

“Oh, what will we do?” Bess wailed.

The others ran from room to room and glanced outside. A wide band of fire completely encircled the house!

“We must try the stairs,” Henri ordered.

Covering their faces with handkerchiefs, the group tried to descend the steps, but flames and smoke drove them back. The first floor of the old wooden structure was completely ablaze. Escape down the stairs was impossible.

“The kerosene!” Nancy thought ruefully. “Someone soaked the premises inside and out and made an inferno of this place.”