Chapter 2 The Clue of the Broken Locket by Carolyn Keene
The Broken Locket
“If this message had arrived fifteen minutes earlier I might have delayed the adoption,” Mr. Drew said regretfully. “I usually take no stock in anonymous communications, but this one is somehow different.”
Nancy thoughtfully fingered the missive.
“The mother of the twins must have sent this, for she speaks of them as ‘my babies,’ ” she said.
“Yes, and moreover she signs herself ‘Broken Heart,’ ” returned her father. “No doubt she will be distressed to learn that it is too late to prevent the adoption.”
“It seems to me that this telegram proves a number of things,” mused Nancy. “First, that the mother is alive. She is really interested in the welfare of her babies, and in some manner has kept in touch with the Home.”
Mr. Drew nodded.
“Otherwise, she couldn’t have known that the Blairs were about to adopt the twins,” he replied. “Oh, it’s a shame! And my hands are tied.”
“Mine aren’t,” Nancy said quickly. “I realize that your position makes it impossible for you to take an active part in the matter, but I mean to interest myself in the case.”
“Just what can you do, Nancy?”
“For one thing, I believe I can prevent Mrs. Blair from destroying all evidence concerning the babies’ parentage.”
“That may not be easy. You can’t force her to give up the bundle.”
“Perhaps not, but there are other ways. I can’t tell you about it now, but I have a plan I think will work!”
Delaying only long enough to obtain the address of the Blair estate, which was located about fifteen miles from River Heights, Nancy hurried to the garage. Her own shiny new automobile stood waiting for her, ready for just such an adventure as she now expected to undertake.
The energetic girl was adept at handling the car, and guided it skillfully down the drive in reverse gear. Often Hannah Gruen would shudder as she watched her mistress, predicting that Nancy would some day come into collision with the big oak tree near the curb. However, it was Carson Drew who, while driving, had pulled a large-sized strip of bark from the trunk. The fenders of Nancy’s cars had never so much as been scratched.
Intent upon her visit to Jolly Folly, the Blairs’ pretentious estate, the girl drove at a careful speed down the street. She paused at a red traffic light, and was looking impatiently at it when she heard her name called.
“Hello, Nancy Drew!”
“Hello, Bess Marvin!” Nancy cried, swinging open the door. “Jump in, and I’ll give you a lift.”
“But I’m going the other way.”
“Then I’ll give you a long ride as well as an adventure!”
Bess could not resist such a tempting suggestion, particularly since she had no plans for the afternoon. When Nancy promised excitement, she always kept her word.
Quickly Bess slipped into the seat, and they drove off.
“What’s this about an adventure?” she demanded. “Don’t tell me you’ve dug up another mystery, Nancy.”
“I don’t know yet whether it’s a mystery or not, but there’s plenty of chance for good detective work,” Nancy chuckled.
Bess listened attentively to the story of the adoption of little Jay and Janet, and promptly agreed that she would drive to Jolly Folly with her chum.
“Nancy, you’re the most amazing girl in the world. How you can ferret out so much excitement is beyond me!”
Nancy always had been a source of wonder to her friends. She had a natural genius for solving mysteries, as her father had discovered. He enjoyed discussing his interesting law cases with her, and found her opinions to be astonishingly sound for one so young.
Left motherless at an early age, Nancy had developed a fine sense of responsibility and more than earned her right to complete freedom. She had a keen mind, a quick sympathy for those in trouble, and an ability to look out for herself.
A fine old timepiece on the mantel in her home served to remind Nancy of her first exciting mystery. Her encounter with the Tophams is revealed in “The Secret of the Old Clock,” the first volume of the series.
Other adventures followed in quick succession, once her reputation as a detective was established. A queer bungalow, an old ranch, and even a farm provided scenes for her triumphs.
Nancy’s eyes became sharpened to clues which others failed to notice, as was the case in “The Password to Larkspur Lane.” There a carrier pigeon led her to a mysterious retreat, where the girl brought about the release of a sweet old lady being held against her wishes.
Well acquainted with her chum’s prowess, Bess Marvin was convinced that Nancy could evolve excitement from anything. She saw the making of a splendid adventure in their dash to Jolly Folly to prevent Mrs. Blair from destroying the bundle of clothing and the broken locket.
Nancy was not thinking of the trip in such terms. Her sole purpose was to aid the helpless little twins and possibly the distressed mother, who had signed herself “Broken Heart.”
Nancy was puzzling over the queer message, when she rounded a curve and observed a large touring car stalled at the edge of the pavement. As she slowed down, a man stepped out and motioned for her to halt.
“I’ve run out of gas,” he said in a loud voice. “My wife and I were on our way to the Blair estate. Could you give us a lift?”
The man was well dressed, but his manner, though not offensive, was noticeably crude. The girls caught a glimpse of a woman and a pretty child seated in the stalled automobile.
It was in Nancy’s nature to want to be of assistance; in this instance, the man’s request fitted in perfectly with her plans.
“By all means ride with us,” she invited. “My route carries me directly toward the Blair estate.”
“My name is Dunbar,” the man introduced himself. “Phil Dunbar.”
“I believe I’ve heard Mr. and Mrs. Blair speak of you,” Nancy commented.
“Then you know them?”
“Only slightly. In fact, I have met them but once.”
“Phil,” came the woman’s voice from the car, “what is all the delay for? If they won’t take us free of charge, offer them money.”
Directing an apologetic glance toward Nancy and Bess, Phil Dunbar hurried to his wife’s side to acquaint her with the situation. She came back with him, leading an unwilling little girl by the hand.
“I don’t want to go!” the child screamed. “I don’t want to go!”
“Such a silly, spoiled child!” Nancy thought to herself.
“Mitzi has a will of her own,” Mrs. Dunbar smiled. “She has my temperament.”
Mr. Dunbar introduced his wife as “Boots.” She would have gone into a lengthy account of their exploits on the stage had Nancy not cut her short by saying that she was in a great hurry.
“But where are we to ride?” Mrs. Dunbar asked, gazing askance at the rumble-seat.
“I’ll ride back there,” Bess offered generously. “I don’t mind it in the least.”
Mrs. Dunbar did not protest at such a sacrifice. She deposited herself beside Nancy, the child between them. Bess and Phil Dunbar shared the rumble seat.
During the ride Mrs. Dunbar grew talkative. She explained to Nancy that she and her husband were going to the Blair estate to help celebrate the adoption of a baby.
“She’ll be surprised when she learns there are twins,” thought the girl.
Nancy offered scant information of her own. Instead, she adroitly drew from Mrs. Dunbar many interesting facts concerning the Blairs. The woman intimated that they lived beyond their means, that they were not as famous as they would have people believe, and that their one ambition was to create a great name for themselves.
Nancy gathered from all this palaver that the two actresses were jealous rivals beneath the guise of friendship.
“Imagine Kitty with a child of her own!” Mrs. Dunbar rattled on. “What a joke! She hasn’t the least bit of maternal instinct, you know. Now, I’m supremely devoted to my Mitzi!”
“Perhaps,” Nancy commented inwardly.
She realized that the Dunbars and the Blairs were far from typical stage people. No doubt they were as much disliked by the members of their profession as they were by strangers. Mitzi, Nancy thought, was a tragic example of what the wrong sort of education will do to a child.
“If the Blairs rear Jay and Janet, they’ll grow to be like Mitzi,” she reflected.
As they had now reached Jolly Folly, Nancy turned into the winding gravel drive. The house was a large rambling affair, built by its previous owner. Originally, the estate had been an aristocratic and conservative place. However, in making changes the Blairs had succeeded in flaunting themselves. They had added too many flower beds, gaudy umbrellas and awnings to be in good taste.
Nancy’s heart quickened a beat as she observed the Blairs’ automobile parked at the front entrance. She did not understand how they could have managed to reach the Selkirk Home, get the babies, and arrive at Jolly Folly ahead of her.
Nancy brought her car to a halt alongside theirs, and as she stepped to the running-board she was relieved to notice that Mrs. Blair and a nursemaid were just alighting.
“They haven’t had time to destroy the clothes yet,” she told herself.
The Dunbars greeted their friends effusively; in the confusion, Nancy and Bess had an opportunity to look at the twins. The nurse, a pretty young woman, held the children gingerly in her arms, as if she were not yet accustomed to her new duties.
“Oh, aren’t they cunning!” Bess cried. “Jay has the sweetest little dimple. Or is it Janet?”
“It’s Janet, Miss,” the girl responded indifferently. “The only way I can tell ’em apart is by the ribbons. Pink for Janet and blue for Jay.”
Nancy had never before seen such adorable twins. They appeared to be about fourteen months old. At the moment Nancy’s eyes were roaming elsewhere, however. For as the maid stepped from the car, a small bundle dropped from her lap and onto the running-board. The girl stood with her back to it, seemingly unaware that it had fallen.
Nancy eyed the package speculatively. The paper wrapping had been torn in one place. She caught a glimpse of something white and lacy.
“Baby clothes,” she decided. “The locket must be inside, too. It’s the package I want, and I’ll get it!”
The Blairs and the Dunbars were absorbed in their conversation, and the nursemaid was talking with Bess. Nancy decided to take a chance. Quickly she reached down, and with a deft movement caught up the bundle and thrust it under her coat.