Chapter 6 The Password to Larkspur Lane by Carolyn Keene
An Unsuccessful Chase
Where could the purse snatcher have gone with the precious bracelet? Nancy looked about her in dismay. Not many customers were in this section, which was devoted to women’s clothing. Racks of dresses and frocks, rows and rows of full-length mirrors, all combined to provide scores of hiding places for the pickpocket.
“The dressing rooms!” decided Nancy.
Of course. The perfect hiding place! About twenty of the little wooden cubicles, with curtained doorways, stretched along one wall of the department. Nancy hastened toward them and pulled the curtain of the first one aside. It was empty. So was the second. In the third a stout woman was struggling to get a tight silk dress over her head, presenting a spectacle which made Nancy smile to herself despite her predicament. Before the woman could utter a word Nancy was continuing her search.
The fifth dressing room contained her quarry! The pickpocket was leaning against the wall, panting, her hair mussed and her hat awry. She had Nancy’s open purse in her hands!
“Drop that!”
Nancy snapped out the command as she leaped toward the thief, who now had the bracelet in her fingers. The woman paled, and glanced wildly about her for a means of escape.
As Nancy was about to seize the woman’s arm, the pickpocket hurled the purse into the girl’s face. Nancy ducked. Coins, compact, papers and keys scattered over the floor about her. Then Nancy grabbed the wrist of the hand that was holding the precious bracelet, and twined her fingers around the hoop of gold, crying at the top of her voice:
“Help! Thief!”
At that the woman in blue dropped the bracelet, wrenched herself free, and shoving the girl over, fled. In a moment the door was blocked by several saleswomen.
“What is the trouble?” they chorused.
“A woman in a blue dress—a dark-haired woman—snatched my purse,” Nancy gasped, as she pushed past the clerks and started running in the direction of the elevators, the bracelet in her hand.
She was too late! Before she was halfway to her goal, she saw the pickpocket enter a car. The door clanged shut, and the operator started for the lower floors.
The quick-witted girl was not yet giving up hope, however, for she felt sure the woman in blue was no ordinary pickpocket, but had deliberately tried to steal the crested bracelet. Grabbing up a desk telephone, she said:
“Emergency! Ring the phone nearest the store entrance!”
She waited a moment, two moments, a full minute, growing impatient because no one answered. Finally a voice said:
“Silverware Department.”
“Are you near the front door? Yes? Then listen carefully. A woman in a light blue dress and hat will probably come rushing toward the door. Stop her! She’s a thief. I’ll be right down!”
As Nancy was about to step into a waiting elevator, she was detained by one of the saleswomen who hurriedly handed her the broken purse.
“Your bag, Miss. Everything’s in it.”
“Thank you. Oh, thank you very much,” said Nancy, hustling into the car.
When she reached the silverware department, she did not see the woman in blue. Inquiry of the clerk who had answered the phone brought forth a disappointing answer.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” the girl said, “but the woman you were looking for stepped into a taxi just as you called me.”
Nancy was nettled at herself for letting the woman escape, as she felt certain the pickpocket was an important clue in the mystery. She was undoubtedly a member of the group which had intimidated Dr. Spires. Had the purse snatcher been captured, it might have proved easy for the police to round up her accomplices.
Nancy left the shop feeling a trifle ashamed of herself. Slowly she retraced her steps to her car. As she stepped upon the running board, someone grabbed her by the arm, while a girl’s voice exclaimed:
“Nancy Drew!”
Nancy turned to confront the speaker, and the look of worry on her pretty face gave place to an expression of delight.
“Helen Corning! I’m glad to see you! When did you get back?”
“Two days ago. Oh, I had a splendid time, but it is so good to be home again.”
Helen Corning was an old chum of Nancy Drew and had shared some of her adventures. She had gone to Europe in the spring. Being a notoriously poor letter writer she had not announced her return to Nancy.
“How is everybody?” Helen asked. “Are George and Bess around town?”
The reference was to Bess Marvin and George Fayne, who were cousins and, despite the name of the latter, were girls of about Helen’s and Nancy’s age.
“Yes, they’re at home.”
“What are your plans? Are you going away?” Helen inquired.
“I’m undecided as yet,” Nancy replied. “I really haven’t made any plans.”
“Then come with me to Sylvan Lake, Nancy,” Helen cried. “My family has a cottage there for the summer.”
“Thank you. It would be nice, but just now I’m very busy. Come to my house to luncheon,” Nancy suggested. “We can talk things over, and afterward I’d like you to take a ride with me. Will you?”
“I must finish some shopping first,” Helen said. “You can’t imagine the world of things I need. I bought some lovely frocks in Paris, but there isn’t a thing for me to wear in camp. I have my car. Let’s see. Suppose I come to your house at twelve-thirty. Then we can talk as much as we like.”
Nancy accordingly drove home, yet not without many a backward glance to make sure she was not being trailed again. She helped Effie to plan and prepare luncheon for her chum.
Helen arrived, overflowing with talk about Paris, Berlin, and London. Of Rouen, where she had stood on the spot where Joan of Arc had been burned at the stake, and of Heidelberg, where the German students wore funny round caps and sang in the streets.
“By the way, how is Ned Nickerson?” asked Helen with a twinkle in her eye.
If Nancy flushed a trifle at the direct question, she must be excused. Ned Nickerson, football hero of the big Thanksgiving game which Helen and Nancy had seen together, was a person about whom she was often teased.
“Ned is helping out as counselor at a boys’ camp on Sylvan Lake,” Nancy said. “A chum of his who is regularly in charge was taken ill, so Ned is substituting for him for a few weeks.”
“Sylvan Lake? And you never told me!” Helen cried. “We’ll see him if you visit me.”
After some reminiscences of their adventures together, Helen wished to know if her friend was on the trail of any more mysteries.
“Sort of,” Nancy smiled enigmatically. “That is why I want to go driving this afternoon. I think, from some things I have heard, that an old lady is being held somewhere in this vicinity against her will. I’m going to look around the countryside to see if I can locate her and help her. I have a hunch I’m going to find her!”