Chapter 3 The Whispering Statue by Carolyn Keene
THE WHISPERING GIRL
“Did I understand you to say Sea Cliff?” Nancy inquired in astonishment.
“Yes,” Mrs. Owen replied. “It is a summer resort place along the Atlantic Coast. Old Estate is located on the shore and was falling into ruin when last I saw it. By this time the house and the statue as well may have been washed into the sea.”
“Oh, I hope not,” Nancy said quickly, “because I’d like very much to see it. My chums and I are leaving in a few days to spend a vacation at Sea Cliff.”
“Then by all means you must visit Old Estate to view yourself in marble,” Mrs. Owen smiled. “Your resemblance to the statue is really amazing, Miss Drew.”
“I certainly shall see it,” Nancy declared, and then asked the clubwoman how to reach Old Estate after arriving at Sea Cliff.
The girl wrote down the directions on the back of an old envelope. Upon Mrs. Owen’s request she gave her own address in River Heights. The clubwoman was noting it in her little book when Bess suddenly gave an exclamation of dismay.
“Oh, look who’s here!”
“Togo!” George cried with a laugh. “He has trailed Nancy to the casino.”
The girls had congratulated themselves that they were free of the mischievous little dog, for after dropping Mrs. Owen’s pocketbook in the lake he had lost himself somewhere in the crowd. Now Togo stood in the entrance of the casino, looking alertly about him.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t see us,” Nancy murmured.
Even as she spoke, the terrier gave a joyful bark and bounded toward the young people. He darted directly in front of a dignified waiter with a heavily loaded tray, and struck the man full force just below the knees. The waiter staggered about wildly in an effort to maintain his balance, then fell backward against the wall. His tray of dishes crashed to the floor.
“Oh, what will Togo do next?” Bess wailed. “Let’s get away from here before we’re accused of being his owner.”
Escape, however, was out of the question, for the little dog, oblivious of the havoc he had wrought, came up to Nancy and leaped against her. Nearly everyone in the room turned to stare at the young people, much to their confusion. The manager of the place came toward the party angrily.
“Dogs are not allowed in this casino,” he said in freezing tones, addressing the embarrassed Nancy.
“He isn’t my dog, even if he does follow me around everywhere,” she replied humbly.
“Just get the animal out of here, that’s all I ask,” the manager answered grimly. He made a dive for Togo, who by this time had lost interest in Nancy and playfully was attacking another waiter.
“I’ll try,” Nancy murmured contritely. “Come here, Togo!” she ordered.
The little animal came obediently to her side. She picked him up in her arms, and the party hastily left the casino.
“So this was the little dog that took my handbag,” Mrs. Owen laughed, giving the terrier a friendly pat. “He does manage to keep busy, doesn’t he?”
Nancy dropped the dog to the ground, and Ned chased him away to another section of the park. When the young man returned alone, Mrs. Owen was saying good-bye to Nancy and her chums.
“I’m in favor of starting for home myself before Togo picks up my trail again,” laughed Nancy.
Ned had his car at the park and offered to drive the girls, but they declined, preferring to walk. At the Fayne residence Nancy took leave of George. A few minutes later she was saying good-bye to Bess, when the latter gave a little squeal of consternation.
“Oh, Nancy, here he comes again!”
The girl turned to see Togo trotting down the sidewalk toward them.
“The little pest!” she exclaimed. “What are we to do with him?”
“What are you to do, you mean?” Bess corrected with a wicked chuckle. “He’s your dog, not mine.”
She ran into the house and stood at the window, watching in amusement as Togo joyfully greeted his chosen mistress. With a sigh Nancy walked on down the street, the terrier following close at her heels. Reaching home, she slipped into the house, leaving the dog on the porch. Half an hour later when she peered out he was still there.
“Oh, I’ll just have to weaken,” she decided, opening the door and allowing the pet to come in. “He’s homeless and perhaps hungry.”
Mrs. Gruen, the housekeeper who had worked at the Drew residence so many years that she was regarded almost as a member of the family, came into the living room, halting abruptly when she saw the dog.
“Nancy Drew, where on earth did you find that dirty little animal? You know I can’t have him here muddying up the rugs.”
“I’ll give Togo a bath,” promised Nancy. “I think he’ll be fairly presentable then.”
“Surely you’re not thinking of keeping him?”
“I don’t seem to have any choice in the matter,” Nancy laughed. “He trailed me all afternoon at the park. Poor little fellow! I imagine he’s had nothing to eat for days.”
She had made a direct appeal to the housekeeper’s sympathies, and as she hoped Mrs. Gruen grudgingly went to the kitchen to find food for Togo. She softened somewhat as Nancy told her about the terrier’s antics.
“He seems to be a smart little dog,” Mrs. Gruen admitted, “but if he’s mischievous I can’t have him around.”
“Oh, I imagine it was only because he was so hungry,” Nancy answered hastily. “He’ll probably be very good from now on.”
“He’ll eat as much as a grown person does.”
“You can give him some of my portion,” Nancy smiled. “You see, since Togo followed me home I really feel it is my duty to keep him until his master is found.”
“Your duty!” Mrs. Gruen laughed. “That’s only an excuse you thought up. You really like the scamp, and hope his owner never does claim him again.”
The front door opened to admit Carson Drew. The lawyer dropped his brief-case carelessly on a chair. Before he could greet Nancy or the housekeeper Togo had leaped up on him and tried to lick his hand.
“Well, well, where did you come from?” Mr. Drew laughed.
The voice of the lawyer seemed to excite the terrier even more. He ran madly about the room. Before Nancy could capture him he had snatched the leather brief-case from the chair. The flap fell open and papers scattered over the room.
“Just a nice little dog,” Mrs. Gruen remarked with a tinge of sarcasm.
“Togo is a bit impulsive,” Nancy admitted, taking the brief-case away from him and picking up the scattered papers. “Why Dad, what’s this?”
She indicated an envelope which bore the title “Charles Owen.” The surname had drawn her attention.
“Oh, a letter from one of my clients,” the lawyer answered. “It’s not so important, but some of those other papers are. I don’t want any of them to be lost.”
Nancy carefully replaced all the documents in the brief-case. Then, after having tied Togo outdoors, she told her father of her adventure that afternoon at the park.
“Mrs. Owen was very pleasant, Dad,” she remarked, “but I couldn’t help thinking——”
“That she has a mysterious background?” Mr. Drew finished teasingly.
“I shouldn’t have used exactly that expression,” Nancy smiled. “But you must admit it seems odd that she’d carry a ‘personal’ item in her bag. When I noticed that your client’s name was Charles Owen it occurred to me that they might be related.”
“Oh, I doubt it, Nancy. Owen is a fairly common name, you know. Mr. Owen is connected with the firm Owen and Wormrath, located along the Atlantic Coast. They have a small branch office in this state too.”
“I suppose my idea is rather fantastic,” Nancy admitted. “Oh, well, even if Mrs. Owen were related to your client it probably would have no significance.”
The girl promptly dismissed the matter from her mind and forgot about the clubwoman entirely until a few days later, when a messenger delivered a large box of candy sent to her by Mrs. Owen as a token of her appreciation. Nancy wrote a note of thanks.
The week slipped away so swiftly that almost before the girls realized it they were boarding the train with Mr. Drew, bound for Sea Cliff and a happy vacation.
“I’ll miss Togo,” Nancy remarked to George and Bess as they all waited on the station platform. “Mrs. Gruen didn’t like the idea of watching out for him while Dad and I are away, but of course we couldn’t take him along to Sea Cliff.”
“He’d probably leave a trail of wreckage behind him,” George chuckled.
“Togo isn’t as bad as he was,” Nancy replied with pride. “I’ve been trying to train him.”
“Trying is right,” Mr. Drew cut in. “You’ll never conquer Togo, Nancy, so you may as well admit defeat at the start.”
The block signal had dropped, and a few minutes later the flier came roaring into the station. Mr. Drew’s party was hustled aboard by the conductor.
“This your dog?” the trainman demanded gruffly.
Nancy glanced back in surprise and collapsed weakly against her father’s arm. Togo, who evidently had broken his leash, followed the party to the station, and leaped aboard the train just as it pulled out from the station.
“You can’t have the dog in here,” the conductor said sternly. “He must go into the baggage car.”
Togo had very definite ideas of his own. Before either the conductor or Mr. Drew could capture him, he had scampered down the aisle. Deciding that he would like to sit beside an old lady in a flowing black cape who occupied a seat toward the front of the car, he leaped up alongside of her.
The woman dropped the book she was reading and gave a startled cry. She tried to push Togo away. The dog, thinking it was all in play, began to tear at her cloak, entangling himself in its generous folds.
“Togo!” Nancy Drew cried furiously. She caught the dog but his teeth held fast to the cape. As the garment billowed outward, the girl noticed an astonishing thing.
The inside of the cape contained several pockets heavily weighted down as if with money!
The elderly woman jerked her cloak together, frowning severely at Nancy.
“I’m so sorry,” the girl apologized. “I hope Togo didn’t bite you.”
“No,” answered the woman shortly, “but please take him away.”
Nancy was only too glad to retreat with Togo held firmly under her arm. As she walked down the aisle she was the target of all eyes. However, she was scarcely aware of it, for her own attention had been drawn to a dark-haired young man who occupied the seat directly opposite the woman in the cape. He was a sharp, shrewd looking individual, and Nancy was a little afraid that he too had seen the money which the old lady carried upon her person.
She had no time just then to worry about it, for the conductor showed signs of making a great deal of trouble about Togo. Mr. Drew finally arranged for the dog to be taken to the baggage car.
When the party was comfortably settled, Nancy told her chums about the hidden money which she had observed under the old lady’s cloak, adding that she was afraid the man directly across the aisle had seen it too.
“He looks like a sharper,” George observed, turning to stare at the person under discussion. “His smile is innocent enough but he has wicked eyes.”
“Why, he’s trying to attract that old lady’s attention already,” Bess added in alarm.
“Just what I feared he would do,” Nancy declared, nodding. “He’ll manage to get into conversation with her, and the first thing we know her money will be gone.”
As the young people watched, the man moved over into the seat across the aisle and bowed politely to its occupant. Soon he was chatting pleasantly with the old lady, but as he talked his eyes roved frequently to the cape.
“He is interested in her money,” Nancy murmured anxiously. “Oh, dear, if he steals it I’ll feel responsible.”
When the conductor came through the car a few minutes later she asked him if he knew either of the passengers.
“The old lady is Miss Morse from Sea Cliff,” the trainman responded. “I have never seen the man before.”
Nancy felt that it was her duty to warn Miss Morse to be on her guard, yet obviously she could not talk with her until the young man should go back to his own seat. Then it might be too late. Mr. Drew had gone to the observation car so she could not seek his advice.
“I’m going to take that section directly behind the couple and hear what they are saying,” she indicated to her chums. “We may have misjudged the man.”
She walked up the aisle and slid into the empty seat without attracting the attention of the pair just ahead. Miss Morse was staring fixedly at the strange young man as if fascinated by his face.
“Yes, I thought from the moment I first set eyes upon you that we might be related, Mr. Mitza,” Nancy heard her say. “How fortunate that we chanced to meet.”
“Fortunate indeed!” thought Nancy. “Mr. Mitza has trumped up that story to throw her off guard.”
From the snatches of conversation overheard, it was easy to tell that the unscrupulous young man deliberately was pumping information from Miss Morse regarding her personal affairs. Satisfied that she could do nothing about it just then, Nancy went back to her chums.
An hour later Alton Junction was reached, which was the point at which passengers bound for Sea Cliff must transfer to another train. As Mr. Drew and the girls left the car, Nancy observed that both Miss Morse and Mr. Mitza were gathering up their luggage.
“Oh, let me help you with your heavy bag,” the Drew girl said quickly to the old lady, before the young man could make a similar offer.
Joe Mitza scowled at Nancy, but she paid no attention to him, hurrying the elderly woman from the car.
“I’ve only a minute to talk,” Nancy began in an undertone, “but I want to give you a friendly warning. I’m very much afraid Mr. Mitza is interested in your money. I’d not have anything to do with him if I were you.”
Miss Morse stared angrily at the girl, her lips tightening into unpleasant lines.
“I’ll thank you to mind your own affairs,” she said sharply. “For years I’ve battled the world, and I’m still capable of looking after myself!”