Chapter 9 The Mystery of the Ivory Charm by Carolyn Keene
Tales of India
Midway down the long tunnel, the girls paused to listen. They could hear no sound of footsteps from behind.
“I believe we gave batty Mr. Batt the slip this time,” Nancy chuckled.
“Don’t laugh until we’re safely out of here,” Bess shuddered. “What if the door in the rock won’t open?”
This suggestion erased the smile from Nancy’s face, and no further word was spoken by her until the passageway exit had been reached. She groped about in the dark until her hand touched the knob of the door. It opened readily, swinging slowly back on mighty iron hinges which had been drilled into the rock. When closed, the door fit so tightly that only a close inspection revealed its faint outline against the cliff.
“Strange the rock door opens from the inside only,” Nancy remarked musingly as they all emerged. “Some time I intend to learn the explanation for it.”
“I fear you’ll come back here alone, then,” Bess commented grimly. “I’ve seen all I care to of this house.”
The storm had abated while the girls were inside the tunnel. Now, as they assisted Coya to the parked automobile, only a light rain was falling.
“How are you feeling?” Nancy asked the Indian lad as she helped him into the car.
“Much better, Missee. But Coya try no more tricks on ropes!”
“I should hope not! Only a miracle saved you from death. If we had found you even five minutes later——”
“No miracle,” Coya insisted firmly. “Ivory charm save life.”
“If I were you I shouldn’t trust that piece of ivory too far,” Nancy smiled. “As soon as we reach home you’re going straight to bed, and have a doctor.”
Coya offered no complaint, yet a slight grimace told the girls that the Indian lad took slight stock in the ability of medical men.
By the time Nancy and Coya reached home, the lad had made such a noticeable improvement that it seemed unnecessary to call in a physician. Hannah put the little boy to bed and he immediately fell into an untroubled sleep.
“I declare, Coya has wound himself around my heart,” the housekeeper confided to Nancy. “I didn’t realize how much he meant to me until this accident.”
“We must begin to plan his future.”
That night after dinner she brought up the subject of engaging a tutor for Coya, and as she had expected, Carson Drew instantly agreed that the suggestion was an excellent one.
“Select someone suitable and it will be perfectly satisfactory,” he said. “I’ll leave the matter entirely to you.”
“It won’t be easy to find the right sort of teacher.”
“That’s why I’m leaving it all to you,” Mr. Drew reiterated.
“By the way, Dad,” Nancy said after a moment, “did Miss Allison ever call at your office?”
“No, she never did.”
“It seems odd that she didn’t come back.”
“She probably switched to another lawyer. Not that I care.”
“I heard her name mentioned today in connection with Rai,” Nancy told her father.
He glanced up with interest, and she launched into the strange tale which Jasper Batt had related regarding the stolen papers. Carson Drew already knew of his daughter’s adventure at the abandoned home but in the housekeeper’s presence Nancy had withheld a few vital details.
“You’re certain you heard the names correctly?”
“Yes, I’m sure I did. I suppose Batt must know Miss Allison well for probably she employs him to guard her property. But it’s beyond my comprehension how Rai can be mixed up in it.”
“The man is supposed to be with a circus miles from here.”
“It’s possible Jasper Batt was completely out of his head,” Nancy admitted. “He certainly talked and acted wild enough.”
“Even so, he must have heard Rai’s name mentioned or he couldn’t have repeated it.”
Nancy nodded. “And another thing: when Batt first spoke of Miss Allison and his valuable papers he seemed fairly rational. It was later that he talked so strangely.”
“Perhaps the old watchman’s mind will clear up and he can explain what he meant,” the lawyer suggested.
“I thought I might run out tomorrow and talk with him again,” Nancy admitted.
“If you do, be sure to take someone with you,” her father cautioned. “Batt may be harmless enough in his normal state but if he hasn’t recovered from the blow on his head, he may give you some trouble.”
“I’ll be careful, Dad.”
As it turned out, Nancy did not make the trip to the abandoned house the following day, for another matter occupied her attention. Later that evening Ned Nickerson dropped in for a few minutes at the Drew residence and after hearing of Nancy’s exciting adventure, learned also of her plan to provide Coya with a tutor.
“Why, I know just the teacher for you!” he exclaimed. “Professor Lowell Stackpole.”
“It seems to me I’ve heard the name.”
“Well, I should think so! He has taught for years at Emerson U and is known also as a traveler and connoisseur. He has made at least ten trips to India and collects all sorts of native artware. Professor Stackpole speaks several languages, too.”
“Wouldn’t he want more than I could afford to pay, Ned?”
“I couldn’t say as to that. But I imagine if Coya interested him he’d not expect a very high fee. Would you like to have me talk with him?”
“Indeed I would, Ned.”
“I’ll see Mr. Stackpole tonight, and if the position appeals to him I can bring him around here to talk with you tomorrow afternoon. How will that be?”
“Fine,” Nancy agreed, immediately abandoning her plans to visit Jasper Batt.
Early the next morning Ned telephoned to say that he had arranged an appointment with the noted professor.
“We’ll come to the house at three o’clock,” he promised. “Professor Stackpole wishes to talk with Coya before he decides about taking the position.”
“But his fee——”
“Don’t worry about that,” Ned chuckled. “If Professor Stackpole takes a liking to Coya, I’m certain he’ll arrange something which will be satisfactory.”
Nancy was excited over the approaching interview and hastened to tell Coya of her plans for his future. The Indian lad expressed appreciation for her interest, promising that he would study faithfully.
“As long as you keep Ivory Charm I do whatever you wish,” he smiled.
“And if I should lose the charm?”
“Then bad luck follow us both.”
Nancy was not certain that she liked Coya’s attitude; yet, while he was greatly influenced by the ivory trinket, she believed that he would try to please her even if she did not have it in her possession.
When Hannah Gruen looked over Coya’s scanty wardrobe she decided that he had no clothes suitable for his meeting with Professor Stackpole. Accordingly, Carson Drew took the boy to a downtown store and bought him a completely new outfit. Immaculately scrubbed and brushed and garbed in the new suit, Coya amazed the family.
“Why, you look actually regal!” Nancy laughed. “I’m sure Professor Stackpole will be impressed now.”
Promptly at the appointed hour, Ned and the instructor called at the Drew residence. Doctor Stackpole was a kind-faced, white-haired gentleman of seventy years; yet he carried himself very well and his gait was that of a much younger man. His bright blue eyes glinted with interest as he shook Nancy’s hand. She noticed that his gaze rested for a long moment on the ivory charm which she wore about her neck, but he did not speak of the trinket immediately.
At first the talk was general, pertaining for the most part to Professor Stackpole’s adventures in India.
“It is the most fascinating country in the world,” he told Nancy. “You would love the temples and the great bazaars where native wares are bartered.”
“I wish I might go there some day,” Nancy said wistfully.
“I fear you would find many customs and practices which would horrify you,” Doctor Stackpole continued. “The caste system has led to many abuses. Then, too, in certain parts of the country the natives have no idea of sanitation. In the name of religion they bathe together in sacred pools, many of them suffering from loathsome diseases. This same water is used later for drinking purposes.”
“I’m glad I live in the United States,” Ned interposed.
“Some groups believe in reincarnation—that they are to be twice-born,” went on Doctor Stackpole. “In some places children marry at an early age. A girl unmarried at fourteen would be considered a disgrace to her family.”
“I suppose certain natives place great faith in charms and omens,” Nancy commented.
“Indeed they do. You might say that many of them are very superstitious. They believe in all sorts of miracles and sacrifices. Some religious groups hold the cow to be sacred, others the white elephant. Many wear amulets and charms to ward off disease, preferring such protection to the services of a doctor.
“The compounding of love charms is a standing source of profit. And there are natives who claim to have ability in Black Magic. They make clay images of those whom they wish to injure, thrusting spikes into them to cause illness.”
“I’m particularly interested in the strange beliefs held in connection with elephants,” Nancy interposed.
Again Professor Stackpole’s eyes wandered to the charm worn about the girl’s neck.
“Of course you know that the Indians divide elephants into castes as they do people,” he explained. “The cult of the white elephant practiced by the kings of Siam probably had its origin in India and was based on the Hindu worship of Airavat, the sacred elephant of India. Even today one finds many charms made in the form of the elephant. Some are carved from pure ivory.”
“Then ivory charms are somewhat common,” Nancy observed in disappointment.
“It depends entirely upon the workmanship. Some are very rare indeed. If I am not mistaken, that charm which you wear about your neck came from India.”
“It was given to me,” Nancy said eagerly. “I’ve been very curious regarding its history.”
“May I look at it?”
“I’ll appreciate your opinion, Doctor Stackpole.”
Nancy removed it from her neck and gave it to him for his inspection. He gazed at it so long without speaking that she began to fear it was merely a cheap trinket, nothing more.
“This is an unusual charm,” he said at last in a tone which was almost reverent. “I have never seen one of better workmanship or quality. The ivory is pure, and I should judge very old. The carving has been done by an expert. Miss Drew, you have a treasure in this piece and should treat it as such.”
“I had no idea it was so valuable.”
“Unfortunately, I am not an ivory expert,” the teacher said with a slight frown, “yet it is obvious even to one of my slight experience that this charm at one time must have been the possession of a person of high caste—perhaps a great Rajah.”
“Rai claimed that it formerly belonged to a ruler of a mystic Indian province. I rather doubted the story at the time the charm was given to me.”
“Very likely the tale is true,” Professor Stackpole declared. “At any rate, your charm is valuable and should be safe-guarded.”
“I’ll certainly take good care of it,” Nancy promised.
“If you will call at my office some time I’ll be glad to furnish you with several books dealing with the subject of charms,” Professor Stackpole offered. “The ancient ones are especially interesting. Some of them are said to have contained precious jewels; others held a poison to be used against enemies, and a very few, a unique life-giving balm.”
“How would one ever tell the difference in the fluid?” Nancy asked curiously.
“The poison was dark in color, the life-giving balm of light hue. But of course, such things are of the past. The modern charms have no hollow cavities.”
Nancy had been fascinated by Professor Stackpole’s tales of India, but she did not forget the actual purpose of his visit. Coya was summoned to meet the distinguished gentleman. The boy’s bearing was beyond reproach. Upon entering the room he raised his right hand to his forehead and bowed respectfully to the professor. Then, seating himself cross-legged upon a cushion, he conversed with the teacher in his own language as well as in English. Professor Stackpole nodded approvingly from time to time, and after the boy had been dismissed said warmly to Nancy:
“It will be a pleasure to instruct such a lad. He is unusually bright for his years, and I feel confident that he comes from a family of high caste. His English may be faulty but in his native tongue he speaks with poetic beauty.”
While Hannah served tea and cakes Nancy timidly brought up the subject of payment for Professor Stackpole’s services. The gentleman named a sum so low that she felt inclined to protest.
“I tutor only because I enjoy the work,” the teacher explained. “If Coya had not interested me, I should have declined the task.”
Before Doctor Stackpole left the house arrangements were made for Coya to begin his studies the following day. Nancy accompanied the Indian boy to the professor’s office where he secured a list of the books which would be required.
“Coya, you must study hard,” she told him earnestly. “Kind Professor Stackpole will not bother with you otherwise.”
“Coya burn much midnight oil,” the boy smiled.
“If you learn other things as quickly as you do slang, I’m sure the professor will be highly pleased,” Nancy laughed.
In the days immediately following Coya delighted everyone by devoting himself to his studies with great zeal. When he was not working about the garden, he would retire to his room over the garage, where he could often be heard reciting his lessons aloud.
One afternoon, as she entered the garage for a garden tool which had been left there, Nancy was amused to hear the boy’s familiar chanting voice. Coya was reciting a history lesson.
Then gradually the tone of his voice changed, and in a dreamy, sing-song chant, the lad began a strange, senseless jargon, apparently envisioning himself as the ruler of a great province in India. Nancy looked troubled when she left the garage and mentioned the matter to Hannah.
“I do hope Coya doesn’t start to day-dream,” the housekeeper commented anxiously. “I am afraid the boy is a bit off in regard to his imaginary ancestors. When I’m here alone in the kitchen he often comes in and tells me the most outlandish tales about his parents—how important they were in India.”
“Professor Stackpole believes that Coya comes from a fine family,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “I doubt that Rai is of high caste. I wish we could locate the man and question him.”
Since the Indian had vanished with the circus and had not chosen to communicate with Mr. Drew, the task of tracing him would prove difficult. Nancy decided not to ask her father’s aid in the matter until after he had finished with an important law case which was causing him considerable anxiety.
She reflected that it might be well in the meantime to visit the abandoned house again and question the old watchman regarding his knowledge of Miss Allison and the man Rai.
Recalling her promise not to go alone to the house, Nancy telephoned to Bess and George. She was pleased that they had recovered from their recent unpleasant experience and were willing to re-visit the scene of their fright.
Early in the afternoon the girls drove to the Allison property, parking as near the empty house as possible. They circled through the woods toward the building and emerged from among the trees. Nancy, who was in the lead, halted abruptly.
Directly in front of the house, engaged in earnest conversation, stood a man and a woman.
“It’s Anita Allison,” Nancy whispered. “But the man is a stranger. Who can he be?”