Chapter 7 The Clue of the Broken Locket by Carolyn Keene
A Strange Caller
“Do you mind if my daughter hears what you have to say?” Carson Drew inquired, for out of the corner of his eye he had noted Nancy’s apparent interest.
“Not at all,” the minister returned. “In fact, she may be able to help me. I have heard of her admirable record in solving mysteries.”
“What is this message you were requested to deliver to me?” Mr. Drew queried.
The pastor looked a trifle embarrassed.
“No doubt it will sound odd. As I said before, a strange woman, highly strung and emotional, called at my home today. I was preparing my weekly sermon at the time. At first she talked about things in general, but I suspected all the while that she was in trouble.
“In due course of time she spoke out, asking me to deliver a message to you, Mr. Drew. I suggested that she call at your office, but for some reason she seemed unwilling to do so.”
“Peculiar, to say the least,” the attorney commented. “But you haven’t told me her secret.”
“I’m coming to it. She said, ‘You must plead with Mr. Drew not to permit the twin babies to be adopted by the Blairs.’ Before I could question her further, she had left. I’m sure it sounds a trifle nonsensical, but my conscience would not allow me to rest had I failed to inform you. For some reason or other, the tragic expression on the woman’s face remains in my memory, and I cannot forget it.”
Nancy and her father exchanged significant glances. The message was perfectly clear to both of them. Doubtless the mysterious visitor was the woman who had signed herself “Broken Heart” in the telegram to Mr. Drew. For some unknown reason, perhaps because she feared legal entanglements, she had hesitated to call upon the attorney personally.
“I’m sorry to have taken your time at such a late hour,” the pastor continued apologetically. “I rather suspect that the poor woman was suffering from some sort of an obsession.”
“I am inclined to believe that her message is perfectly rational,” Mr. Drew returned. “However, it is too late for me to do anything. The twins of whom she spoke have been adopted already.”
Briefly, then, he told the Reverend Doctor Stafford a few of the circumstances incident to the adoption case. The minister was plainly impressed.
“The poor woman may have been the mother of the babies,” he remarked sadly. “I regret now that I did not detain her.”
Nancy had been listening intently to the conversation. She could not refrain from asking a few questions.
“Can you describe the person who came to your house, Doctor Stafford?”
The minister looked perplexed.
“I must confess I am somewhat inattentive to details. She had a pleasing face, though very sad in expression. She was of average height, I should judge, but extremely thin. Her dark hair was flecked with gray.”
“Then she was middle-aged?”
“No. I shouldn’t say that. She may have been thirty or thirty-five, but trouble rather than years has no doubt aged her.”
“Did you notice anything outstanding about her?” remarked Nancy.
“I can’t say that I did, unless it was her voice, which was one of the most musical I have ever heard. At one time she might have been a singer.”
“Did you observe how she was dressed?” Nancy probed.
“Her clothes were neat, but plain. She wore a gray suit, I believe, and a black felt hat with a red quill on it. During the entire conversation I had the strangest feeling—it was as if I had seen her at some time.”
“And yet you never had?” Mr. Drew asked.
“I was confident that I had never set eyes upon her before. My wife could not place her, either.”
“I wish there was some way in which to trace her,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “Has she left River Heights yet?”
“It is my opinion that she came here from another city. In fact, she appeared at my home shortly after the arrival of the afternoon train. I recall, too, that she frequently consulted her watch. I infer that she boarded a later train.”
“We appreciate your coming here tonight,” said Mr. Drew gratefully. “Rest assured that if anything can be done to aid this unfortunate woman, my daughter and I shall make every effort to straighten out her troubles.”
“I am very glad I came to see you, Mr. Drew. As I said before, the woman’s face haunts me. Then, too, I have always had a deep interest in twins.”
“You have?” Nancy encouraged eagerly. “Why is that?”
The minister, thus invited to prolong his stay, settled back in his chair, adjusted his gold spectacles, and launched into a story to which Mr. Drew and his daughter listened with keen interest.
“Years ago, when I was a young man and had just graduated from the seminary and had been ordained, I was new to my parish and highly nervous. The thought of conducting the first baptismal service flustered me.” Doctor Stafford chuckled at the memory.
“How long ago was that?” Nancy interposed.
“Let me see—it must have been all of thirty years.”
The churchman paused.
“Do go on!” Nancy urged.
“As I was saying, the thought of my first baptismal service made me quite nervous. I hoped that everything would go off well. Imagine my confusion when a woman came up to the altar with twins in her arms!”
“What were the names of the twins?” Nancy asked as he paused.
“The names? Now, let me see. Ruth was the baby girl’s name. Oh, yes, I baptized them, Ruth and Rodney. Rather pretty names, too, I thought.”
“Rodney?” Nancy gasped. “Did you say Rodney?”
“Yes, I am sure that was it.” The minister stared curiously at her, wondering why she was so interested.
Mr. Drew likewise threw a quick glance at his daughter. He knew her well enough to realize that she had stumbled upon some clue which was not apparent to him.
Actually, Nancy had no clue. But when the minister mentioned the name Rodney it was only natural that her thoughts should revert to the Blairs’ chauffeur. She knew nothing of his family or his past, yet his almost uncanny interest in the bundle of baby garments which had belonged to the twins had stamped him indelibly upon her memory.
“What was the last name of the babies whom you baptized?” she questioned eagerly.
“Let me think. I should recall, but it seems to have slipped my mind. Slight wonder after all these years.”
“Did you keep a record of the names?” Nancy inquired hopefully.
“Why yes, I have it at home. If you really would like to know what they are, I think I can perhaps find them for you.”
“I’d appreciate it very much,” Nancy assured him. “I know my request seems strange. I don’t mind telling you that I think the twins whom you baptized might have some connection with the present case.”
The pastor regarded her incredulously. Even Mr. Drew looked a trifle doubtful. Doctor Stafford arose to leave.
“If I find the records, I will bring them to you at once,” he promised Nancy as she conducted him to the door. “And I hope something can be done about those unfortunate children adopted by the Blairs.”
The Drew girl and her father returned to the study after the pastor had left.
“Drawing rather hasty conclusions, aren’t you?” Mr. Drew remarked to his daughter as they faced each other. “For years I’ve prided myself upon being a lawyer of average intelligence, yet I’m frank to admit I can see not the slightest connection between the twins Ruth and Rodney and the Blairs’ adopted babies.”
Nancy laughed.
“Well, Father, maybe you’re right and I’m wrong, but I was very much interested in what the minister said.”
“Just what were you driving at?”
“I don’t exactly know myself—yet! The Blairs have a chauffeur named Rodney, a sad, lean sort of individual who was gassed in the World War.”
“There must be hundreds of Rodneys in the state, Nancy!”
“I know the name isn’t of much help. But the thing that struck me as strange was the way this chauffeur fainted when he saw the bundle of baby clothes burning.”
“Perhaps he fainted from other causes. You say he was gassed in the war.”
“He doesn’t look well,” Nancy admitted.
“Nevertheless, I’m convinced that he was unnerved by the sight of that package.”
“You surely don’t mean to imply that he is the father of the twins!”
“I’m not implying anything—I’m only wondering.”
Carson Drew could not restrain a smile.
“Your little ‘wonderer’ is taking you on a wild flight this time, I think, Nancy. Mind, I’m not saying you aren’t right.”
“But you’re thinking it,” she accused him. “Oh, well, I know the conjecture is far fetched. For that matter, I’m not certain I believe it myself.”
“It may not be a bad idea to trace down the names of those twins, Ruth and Rodney,” the attorney went on, observing that his words had discouraged Nancy. “Queer information occasionally comes out from unexpected sources. By the way, what is this chauffeur’s last name?”
Nancy was forced to admit that she did not know.
“I can find out easily enough, though. So many exciting things were going on while I was at the Blair place that I didn’t have time to ask his name.”
“You did have a stimulating evening. You always seem to be able to stir up excitement wherever you go.”
“I didn’t do any stirring tonight,” Nancy countered. “I was busy most of the time quieting down things. If ever a place was a bedlam, Jolly Folly was it!”
“I didn’t think you’d save that bundle of garments when you went out there,” Mr. Drew remarked teasingly. “Are you sure you didn’t bring back any silverware or furniture?”
“I wouldn’t have any of their gaudy things if they’d give them to me! Do you think it was wrong to exchange the baby clothes and the locket?”
“Of course not. It was all done in a worthy cause.”
“That’s what I thought. If I hadn’t preserved them, the last scrap of evidence linking Jay and Janet to the past would have been destroyed.”
Mr. Drew nodded.
“Speaking of evidence, I noticed you received a bit from Reverend Stafford. Stole the show right away from your old dad.”
“I didn’t mean to do that, only when you pause so long between questions, I can’t keep quiet. I was determined to know what that woman who called upon him looked like.”
“His description may be of value to you. Nancy, I want to say I was impressed with the story. I’m inclined to believe that the woman who sent us that telegram and the one who called upon Doctor Stafford are one and the same person.”
“I’m sure of it myself.”
Mr. Drew arose to turn out the study light, for it was way past his usual bedtime.
“I’ve had a hard day, Nancy. I think I’ll get some sleep.”
“Yes, Father, I can see you are very tired. I’ll be along in a few minutes. Goodnight.”
For fully an hour after Mr. Drew had retired, Nancy sat in the living room mulling over the information she had gleaned. She inferred from her parent’s attitude that he doubted her ability to straighten out the tangled past of little Jay and Janet.
“I guess I was born to involve myself in hopeless problems,” she thought as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. “But I’ve been puzzled before, and I may find a way out of this.”
So weary was Nancy from her day’s adventure that she fell asleep almost the instant her head touched the pillow. Her dreams were troubled. She visualized a court room scene in which a weeping mother stood pleading for her babies. She saw the leering, triumphant faces of the Blairs as the judge awarded them custody of the children.
“That dream was almost too realistic,” Nancy told her father the next morning at breakfast. “I hope it isn’t a premonition.”
Although she was determined to do all she could to find the parents of the twins, Nancy’s enthusiasm for the project did not run at the same fever heat as it had on the previous day. The obstacles to be surmounted looked larger than ever.
While she was finishing her breakfast, she was called to the telephone by Hannah.
“It’s from out in the country, I think,” the housekeeper said. “The words didn’t come in well over the line.”
Nancy took down the receiver. At first she did not recognize the voice.
“This is Colleen Walsh at the Jolly Folly estate!”
Nancy was instantly alert.
“Try to talk slower,” she requested. “I can’t understand you very well.”
“I’m here all by myself, save for the servants,” Colleen told her shrilly. “I’m having an awful time with the babies.”
“They aren’t ill?” Nancy demanded anxiously.
“No, the twins are all right, only they cry a lot, but I can’t hold them. It’s my arm. It hurts me all the time.”
There was a slight hesitation; then the nursemaid suggested timidly:
“I thought perhaps you or your friend would be willing to come out and help me.”
Nancy had anticipated this request. It was somewhat unfair of the girl to expect Bess or herself to do such work, but if Colleen really needed aid she would not refuse her. Then, too, a day spent at Jolly Folly might add to Nancy’s store of information concerning the Blairs and their chauffeur, Rodney.
“I’ll see if I can get in touch with Bess,” Nancy promised. “I feel confident she’ll come. We’ll drive out as quickly as we can.”