Chapter 19 The Whispering Statue by Carolyn Keene
STRANGE VISITORS
Quietly Nancy went around the ancient dwelling to the side door which stood slightly ajar. She huddled there for a moment in the deep shadow, listening.
All was silent within, but from far down the beach the girl heard a sound which caused her to turn her head alertly. Someone was approaching the house from that direction.
Instantly Nancy thought that Joe Mitza, after escaping from the police, had circled the Conger grounds and was sneaking back by the beach route to keep his appointment with Miss Morse. She slipped out of sight around the corner of the house and waited.
Nancy could hear shuffling steps, and at last glimpsed a bent figure which bore no resemblance to the tall, thin form of Mitza. In the darkness she could not see clearly the face of the man who was approaching.
The newcomer advanced toward the house very slowly, almost timidly. He paused some distance from Nancy and stood looking nervously about the grounds.
“It is a dishonorable thing to do,” she heard him mutter to himself. “How ashamed I’d be if anyone were to catch me.”
“Why, it’s Mr. Albin!” the girl thought in relief, and without considering the startling effect her appearance might have upon the old man, she stepped from her hiding place to confront him.
“Oh, my!” the old man ejaculated, his arms flying upward as if to ward off the blow of an attacker.
“Don’t be frightened,” Nancy said in a low tone as she stooped to pick up the old gentleman’s cane which had fallen from his hand. “Don’t you remember me?”
“Are you a friend?” Mr. Albin asked in a terrified quaver. “It’s so dark I can’t see your face.”
“I am Nancy Drew, the girl with whom you talked in the tourist park. You were telling me about Mr. Conger and the beautiful ship models he created.”
“Oh, yes, yes, I remember,” Mr. Albin answered, greatly relieved. “You won’t tell anyone you saw me here, will you?”
“No, of course not,” Nancy assured the elderly man, steering him away from the house, for she was afraid their voices might reach the ears of Miss Morse. “But what brought you here, Mr. Albin? You seem all worn out.”
“I am pretty badly tuckered,” the old gentleman admitted, sitting down wearily on the sagging veranda steps. “I’ve been tramping about all day long, trying to get up enough courage to come here and do a wicked deed.”
“Do you intend to take the ship model which Mr. Conger promised you?” Nancy inquired, smiling.
“Yes, but I hate a thief. I never stole anything in all my life. You believe me, don’t you?”
“Why, of course, and I don’t consider it stealing to take something which was given to you. The ship model really belongs to you.”
“That’s the way I figured it out,” Mr. Albin replied, obviously relieved that Nancy saw the matter as he did. “The piece is really my property and I can’t bear to see it lost forever, especially when Mr. Conger spent so many months working on it. This old homestead won’t last a great deal longer.”
The man pushed the head of his stout cane through the decaying wood of the veranda post to show that the outside covering of the building was only a hollow shell.
“Termites,” he informed Nancy. “All the main supports are in the same condition. One good storm, and the entire house will crash into the sea and float away.”
“I should think the company that holds the estate in trust for Mr. Conger’s daughter would take the valuable furnishings from the house.”
“That outfit will do nothing,” Mr. Albin replied scornfully. “Their sole interest in the place is to collect fat fees. I went to see the administrator yesterday to ask him if I might have the ship model. The man refused me permission to remove anything from the house.”
“So you decided to come here anyway and take your rightful property?”
“Yes. I’d never have risked it, only the sky looks threatening. I’m afraid there is a bad storm brewing. If a hard blow should come, only a miracle would spare this mansion.”
“I don’t blame you a bit,” Nancy said. “I think I’d do the same thing myself.”
Old Mr. Albin painfully arose from the steps. He glanced uneasily toward the homestead, shivering as he contemplated entering it.
“I’d hate to have anyone see me do this,” he muttered.
Nancy thought that it was time she warned him about Miss Morse.
“If I were you I’d wait a little while before trying to get the ship model, Mr. Albin. A strange woman is inside the house now.”
“A woman? What is she doing here?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. I wish I did.”
“She must have come to steal some of the furnishings,” the old man cried, growing excited. “Mr. Conger collected valuable antiques, and it would be very easy for anyone to carry them away.”
Thoroughly incensed at the thought of anyone stealing from the mansion of his old friend, Mr. Albin hobbled toward the front door. Before Nancy could prevent him, he had pounded on the heavy panels.
“I’ll not let anyone—” he began angrily, then broke off suddenly to clutch wildly at the door knob for support.
He toppled sideways against the wall, gasping for breath. Quickly Nancy caught the aged man about the waist to keep him from falling.
“Are you ill, Mr. Albin?” she asked in fright.
“My heart—I’ve had one of my attacks.”
“You’ve exerted yourself too much,” Nancy told him. “All this excitement and worry has been exhausting to you.”
“I can’t let that woman steal——”
“We’ll go to town and inform the administrator of the estate about it,” Nancy urged gently. “Come, I’ll help you to the car.”
Mr. Albin let himself be led away from the house. He leaned heavily upon Nancy, who was very nearly worn out when she came within view of the auto. Then she called George and Bess, who ran to assist her.
As Nancy had feared, Mr. Albin was in no condition to go anywhere except to a doctor. Before they reached Sea Cliff, the old man suffered another heart attack, making it difficult for him to breathe. He offered no objection when Nancy said that she was taking him to a physician.
“Doctor Whimple will look after me,” the sick man murmured. “He’s been looking after me for years.”
Nancy found the Whimple residence, and there left Mr. Albin under the care of the medical man. He assured the girls that he would keep the patient at his own home until he should have recovered fully from the illness.
On her way to Sea Cliff Nancy noticed that the car engine seemed to have developed a loud knock. As they drove away from the doctor’s home it pounded so hard that Bess and George became aware of the sound, too.
“Goodness! What is wrong?” Bess asked with misgivings. “I hope we’ve not burned out a bearing.”
“It’s nothing like that,” Nancy replied, “but I think we ought to see a garage mechanic. This is Mr. Trixler’s car and we can’t afford to take any chances.”
She pulled in at the first garage but the attendant was nowhere in sight. She tooted her horn impatiently.
“I’m in a hurry to get back to Old Estate,” she fretted. “If I waste very much time here I’ll not be able to see Miss Morse.”
Nancy promptly backed her auto from the garage, intending to go elsewhere. As she reached the pavement, she suddenly applied her brakes, and looked intently at a truck which stood near a gasoline pump at the curb. Evidently its driver was waiting for service, also.
“Girls,” she exclaimed, “that man in the driver’s seat is the contractor who owns the monkey!”
He appeared to be arguing with a passenger in the seat beside him. The two were talking as rapidly as possible, apparently dickering over the price of some commodity. The foreigner constantly lapsed into his native tongue, but Nancy gathered enough of the talk to suspect that the fellow was trying to sell the other man a marble statue.
“Surely he wouldn’t have the nerve to attempt to steal the ‘Whispering Girl,’ ” she thought. “It must be another piece that he means.”
The argument was waxing warmer, with each man accusing the other of dishonesty. At length the contractor, losing all patience, muttered something about not waiting any longer for gas. Without glancing backward he suddenly threw his car into reverse. The rear end plunged into the bumper of Nancy’s automobile, striking it with such force that it gave the girls a rude jolt.
The man thrust his head from the car window. Nancy was certain that he recognized her. Instead of apologizing, however, he ducked hastily back behind the wheel and drove away rapidly.