Chapter 9 The Whispering Statue by Carolyn Keene
AT THE CARNIVAL
Nancy hastily replaced the wig and make-up kit in the bag and closed down the lid. To the comment of the woman that the owner of the suitcase must be an actress, she was tempted to add:
“Either that, or else a person traveling in disguise.”
“We made a trip all for nothing,” Bess murmured as her chum climbed in and took her place at the steering wheel. “What was it that fell from the bag, Nancy? You snatched it up so quickly that we couldn’t see what it was.”
“A wig and a make-up kit. As soon as we’re out of the park I hope to get a better look at them because I can’t understand why Miss Morse would carry such articles.”
Once she was out on the main road, Nancy drew up under a tree. She reopened the suitcase and showed Mr. Trixler and her chums the strange contents. Although the girls felt confident that the bag belonged to the mysterious woman of the black cape, they could find no papers or evidence to identify it as hers save the tag on the outside of the case. All markings had been removed from the clothing.
“What do you make of it, Nancy?” George inquired in a baffled tone.
“The only way I can figure it out is that Miss Morse sometimes travels in disguise, but just why should she do such a thing? I confess it’s too deep a mystery for me.”
“I never heard you say such a thing before,” Bess teased. “I’ll warrant you’ll have the answer to the riddle before we leave Sea Cliff.”
“How can I when Dad is due to return any minute now? Probably we’ll start for home soon after he comes. If I could only locate Miss Morse I’d have a definite place to begin—but as it is, I’m baffled.”
“Probably Mitza has the five thousand dollars by this time anyway,” George remarked.
“I doubt it, George,” said Nancy, shaking her head. “Miss Morse isn’t as stupid as Mitza assumed. Now that I’ve seen the contents of this suitcase I’m wondering if perhaps she won’t prove a match for him.”
“Well, if we can’t find the woman, we just can’t,” Mr. Trixler next said philosophically. “At least we have the satisfaction of knowing we tried to expose a trickster.”
As far as Nancy was concerned, to have tried and failed was no satisfaction at all. She resolved that she would never give up the search for Miss Morse until the hour she stepped on the train to return home.
Enroute back to the hotel the girls left Jocko at the house of his master. They received the gratitude of the contractor’s entire family, which was considerable in number. They were glad to be relieved of the pet for his mischievous inclinations were not unlike those of Togo.
At the hotel the girls found a note left by Jack Kingdon, requesting them to attend a carnival that evening. They lost no time telephoning to say that they would be delighted to accept the invitation.
Soon after dinner the young people arrived at the scene of the street fair, mingling with the gay crowd which wandered from one concession to another. Jack bought popcorn and candy for the girls and encouraged them to try their luck at various games of chance. His supply of nickels and dimes seemed inexhaustible.
“You’ve been spending all your money on us,” Nancy protested finally. “Why not try some of the games yourself?”
“Perhaps I will,” Jack smiled. “We’re coming to the shooting gallery, and it’s always hard for me to pass by one of those.”
They paused to watch the moving row of targets and Jack stepped forward to pick up one of the rifles. Not until then did the girls notice a man who was firing at some clay ducks, his back toward them. Nancy was the first to recognize him.
“Joe Mitza!” she whispered.
“It is!” Bess agreed excitedly. “Will you try to have him arrested, Nancy?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t enough evidence to hold him, Bess. But I intend to ask him where I can find Miss Morse.”
She waited until the man laid the rifle down on the counter. Then, as he was turning away from the gallery, she stepped forward. As she spoke, Mitza stared at her sharply. For an instant his expression was blank; then a hard, cunning look in his eyes told Nancy that he recognized her.
“How do you do?” she began with a pretense of politeness. “I am very eager to find a certain Miss Morse——”
“I never heard of her,” the man interrupted harshly.
“The old lady in the black cape. You were so friendly with her on the train that I thought you might know her address here in Sea Cliff.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Her suitcase was delivered to me by mistake,” Nancy continued, “and that’s why I wish to reach her.”
At mention of the bag a flicker of interest came into Mitza’s crafty eyes, but in an instant it was gone.
“Sorry, but I can’t help you,” he answered shortly, turning away.
As Mitza mingled with the crowd again, Nancy gripped Jack Kingdon by the arm.
“Do you mind leaving the carnival?” she requested. “I must find out where that fellow is staying here in Sea Cliff.”
“Then we’ll follow him,” Jack declared promptly.
It was not difficult to keep Mitza in sight for he walked slowly, pausing at various concessions. Hovering always in the background, Nancy and her chums noted that the man lost money heavily. Presently he left the carnival grounds.
The young people trailed him to a cheap boarding house on a squalid street by the railroad tracks. By interviewing the landlady they learned that for several days past Mitza had been rooming with a friend. Nancy carefully noted the address.
Then, since it was too late to go back to the carnival, the four returned to the hotel. Nancy was delighted to find that during their absence her father had arrived.
“You look very tired, Dad,” she observed after he had kissed her fondly. “Have a good trip?”
“Just fair. I’m glad to be back. Oh, yes, I brought you a little present.”
“You needn’t have done that, Dad.”
“This is really from my client,” her father smiled. “Perhaps you won’t care for it.”
He unwrapped a small package, holding up several yards of rich brocade in a curious and unusual flowered pattern.
“Why, it’s gorgeous, Dad!” Nancy cried in admiration.
“I don’t know what you’ll ever be able to do with it.”
“Leave that to me,” the girl laughed. “I can think of several uses for such beautiful material.”
Then and there she determined to make her father a necktie as a surprise, but she gave no hint as to what was in her mind. Instead she asked:
“Where did you get the cloth, Dad?”
“Why, from my client, Mr. Owen. It came from the firm’s warehouse.”
“I didn’t know you had gone out of town to see Mr. Owen,” Nancy remarked with interest.
“It’s a badly muddled case,” Mr. Drew remarked half to himself. Then, as was frequently his custom, he began to discuss the details aloud. “You see, some years ago Charles Owen entered into a partnership with a man by the name of Frank Wormrath. The two men never got along very well together and Owen began to distrust his partner. One night the firm’s warehouse was broken into and valuable stock consisting of silk and woolen goods was stolen. The thefts never were traced.
“Soon after that Wormrath broke up the partnership. What puzzled Owen was that although the profits of the firm had never been large, Wormrath suddenly seemed well supplied with money and a fine stock of goods with which to start another company in competition.”
“Did Mr. Owen connect it with the warehouse theft?” Nancy speculated shrewdly.
“Yes, he became convinced that his partner had instigated the thefts in order to gain a valuable share of the stock of goods—more than he would have been entitled to when a split-up might come.”
“And how do you figure in the case, Dad?” Nancy questioned. “Were you engaged to uncover damaging evidence against Wormrath?”
“Yes, I’ve gone through hundreds of documents with just fair success. I’ve gleaned a little information, but the fellow was shrewd. He evidently confined his dishonest activities to this one big theft.”
“Will you go back to see Mr. Owen?”
“I may return to Windham in a few days,” Mr. Drew answered, “although I can’t see just what good I can do. There’s nothing more I can glean from the records of the firm. But don’t look so worried, Nancy. This is my case, not yours, so you’re not to lose any sleep over it.”
“I never lose sleep over any case,” Nancy laughed. “But I am worried about you. Dad, you look positively worn out.”
“I look the way I feel. But I’ll be all right soon. I’ve just been grinding a bit too hard.”
“What you need, Dad, is a good brisk swim.”
“Not at this time of night.”
“It will do you good and make you sleep better,” Nancy urged. “The moon is full, too, and the beach will be beautiful. I’ll go with you.”
“Oh, all right,” Carson Drew agreed unwillingly.
However, after a ten-minute dip in the bracing sea he was glad he had listened to his daughter’s plea, for he felt alive in every part of his lean body. He raced Nancy back to the dressing room.
“And now to bed and to sleep,” he declared a few minutes later, kissing her good night.
Bess and George already were in bed. Nancy tiptoed across the room, and without disturbing them she began to take off her shoes. She was startled to hear a soft knock on the door.
“Who is it?” she asked, slipping her shoes back on again.
She felt reassured when she heard her father’s voice. He asked her to step out into the hall for a minute and she obeyed immediately.
“What is it, Dad? You look upset.”
“Come into my room so we’ll not be heard,” he urged in a whisper.
She followed her father, who closed the door behind them.
“Nancy, you didn’t pick up my brief-case just before we went for our swim, did you?”
“Why no. I think I saw you drop it on the dresser.”
Nancy’s eyes wandered to the bureau which now bore only a few toilet articles.
“I was afraid of it,” Mr. Drew murmured in agitation. “While we were away someone stole the case, and it contained valuable private papers.”