Chapter 13 The Whispering Statue by Carolyn Keene
AN ACT OF THE ENEMY
“I thought I’d surprise you and come by plane,” Mr. Owen returned, smiling. “At the last minute I changed my mind and decided to swim in.”
“I took you for an Indian Chief in that blanket,” Mr. Drew replied in the other’s light vein. Then his face instantly sobered. “I don’t know what happened out there on the water, but I can see you’re shivering with cold, Mr. Owen. There’ll be time enough to talk when we’re at the hotel.”
He went on ahead, making a pathway through the crowd. The party was rushed to the Seaside Hotel where both the old gentleman and Jack Kingdon were given dry clothing.
Although Mr. Owen insisted he felt little the worse for his ducking in the sea, his face was pale, and the young people knew that only his remarkable will power was sustaining him. The lawyer wisely insisted upon sending the man to bed and calling in a nurse to look after him for a few days.
“I don’t need a nurse,” the old gentleman complained.
“You’re my responsibility here at Sea Cliff,” Carson Drew said severely. “I don’t want you to die of pneumonia.”
“I reckon you couldn’t collect your fee then,” Mr. Owen chuckled, but obediently went to bed.
Nancy remained with the old gentleman until the nurse should arrive, but she could not keep him quiet.
“If the other young lady is half as nice as you, this won’t be so bad,” he chuckled.
Nancy flushed at the compliment. “You mustn’t tire yourself by talking too much,” she warned, smiling.
“Maybe I’ll tire other folks with my jabbering but not myself. I want to tell you that I appreciate being pulled out of the water, too. I couldn’t have held out much longer.”
“It was George who tossed you the life preserver,” Nancy replied. “But I keep worrying all the time about that poor pilot.”
“Yes, it’s a mystery to me what was wrong with him,” Mr. Owen muttered. “He was taken ill so suddenly.”
Mr. Drew had entered the bedroom again. He pulled up a chair, and at the first opportunity endeavored to speak seriously to his client.
“You had a fortunate escape from death today, Mr. Owen,” he began. “Next time you may not be so lucky.”
“Next time?” Mr. Owen demanded, sitting up very straight against the pillows. “I don’t figure there will be a next time. Just what are you driving at, Mr. Drew?”
“Has it occurred to you that what happened this afternoon may not have been an accident at all?”
“You think Wormrath was back of it?” the client asked quickly.
“Yes.”
“What reason have you for thinking the man would go to such lengths?” Mr. Owen questioned.
“Wormrath fears exposure,” the lawyer said quietly. “He does not know how much evidence we have against him, and I imagine he believes we are in possession of more than we actually have gathered. Only a day ago my room was entered and valuable papers in this case stolen.”
Mr. Drew then told how Nancy had recovered the documents from Dencer.
“Wormrath and his hirelings will do anything to prevent the damage suit from coming into court,” the lawyer added. “Perhaps I exaggerate, but it is my honest opinion your life is in danger, Mr. Owen.”
The elderly man did not speak for several minutes. He seemed to be mulling matters over in his mind.
“Perhaps you’re right about it, Mr. Drew,” he admitted slowly. “I’ve learned that you usually have the correct slant on things. I’ll take your advice and be on my guard.”
“It means you must remain in your hotel for a few days,” advised the lawyer.
Mr. Owen made a slight grimace, but promised that he would abide by his friend’s judgment. When the nurse came to take charge of the case, Nancy and her father went to the latter’s room to talk over matters privately.
“There was every indication, I think,” the girl declared, “that the pilot was doped. I imagine that Wormrath plotted to wreck the plane, thinking that no one ever would be able to prove anything against him.”
“I shall investigate that angle thoroughly,” Mr. Drew nodded. “I’m on my way now to see the doctor who is attending the aviator.”
After the lawyer left the hotel, Nancy and her chums found time hanging heavily upon their hands.
“We really should give Togo a little exercise,” Nancy remarked. “We’ve neglected him shamefully the past few days.”
“Let’s go for a hike now,” George proposed impulsively. “We can get back in time for dinner, and there’s nothing to do here.”
“Haven’t you had enough excitement for one day?” Bess asked. She was tired and preferred to remain in her room with a good book.
“Oh, a hike will be healthful for us all,” George laughed. “Come along, lazy.”
Selecting a road which took them to the outskirts of Sea Cliff, the girls soon were walking along briskly with Togo scampering ahead of them. He kept tugging impatiently at his leash, so Nancy unfastened it and let the little dog have more freedom.
“He’ll probably get into mischief,” Bess ventured to say, but Nancy did not feel that it was right to keep the pet confined all the time.
“Oh, Togo is a good dog now,” she laughed. “You forget that I’ve been training him.”
“Maybe he will forget it, too,” George said dryly.
Presently the girls approached a tourist camp, and Nancy remarked that it was the one where they had searched for Miss Morse. The place held no interest for them now, and they were just passing by when Nancy suddenly clutched George’s hand.
“Isn’t that Joe Mitza?” she asked in a whisper, indicating a man who had at that moment entered the park.
Before either George or Bess could catch a glimpse of his face, the fellow moved on through the entrance gate.
“I’m almost certain it was Mitza,” Nancy insisted, growing excited. “Come on, girls, let’s find out what he is doing here.”
The three chums hastened to the entrance of the park in time to see Joe Mitza greet a man who evidently was staying in one of the cabins. The pair sat down on a bench and began to talk.
“Let’s steal up behind the cabin and hear what they are saying,” Nancy proposed.
The camp was nearly deserted, and no one paid any attention to the girls as they retraced their steps, circled the park, and crept up behind the tourist shack. Mitza was boasting to his friend of various disreputable exploits. As he mentioned Miss Morse’s name, a note of complaint came into his harsh voice.
“I figured the old lady was an easy mark, but she fooled me. I thought I had everything lined up to make some money, but yesterday when I went to collect it she said she’d have to do a little more thinking. What I’m trying to decide is whether she’s just cautious, or if someone has squealed on me.”
“You’ll end up in jail one of these days,” the other replied shortly.
“Not Joe Mitza!” the fellow boasted. “And I’ll get the five thousand from old Miss Morse yet! Maybe I did underestimate her shrewdness, but I’ll think up a better scheme next time. You wait and see. I’ll have the money jingling around in my pockets before another day passes.”
The other man seemed rather unimpressed by Mitza’s talk, and Nancy wondered if it might not be because he had listened to the trickster’s cheap boasting before.
“The fellow may be only a braggart,” she decided. “Since Miss Morse seems well able to take care of herself, there’s probably little use in notifying the authorities again.”
When the conversation changed to a new topic, the girls moved quietly away. They returned to the entrance gate of the park and sauntered in boldly. They intended to accost Mitza and see how he would act.
The two men were so engrossed in their conversation that they did not observe the girls until they were directly opposite the bench on which they were sitting. Nancy pretended to be surprised at seeing Mitza once more although she was highly amused to note the fellow’s dismay.
“Why, how fortunate that we should meet again,” she said, smiling disarmingly.
“If you’re still after Miss Morse’s address,” the man cut in curtly, “I can’t give it to you. I haven’t seen the old lady since I reached Sea Cliff.”
Nancy knew this to be a deliberate falsehood, but before she could decide just what tack to take next, Togo solved the problem for her. He made a sudden playful dart at Mitza. Thinking that the dog intended to bite him, the fellow sprang backward, and in his fright allowed a letter to drop from his hand.
Mitza kicked savagely at Togo and stooped to pick up the communication, but Nancy was too quick for him. She retrieved the missive first and did not hesitate to glance at it. In the upper left-hand corner a name and address stood out in bold writing. It read:
“Miss Fanny Morse, Box 14, Sea Cliff.”