Chapter 14 The Clue of the Tapping Heels by Carolyn Keene
A Mysterious Disappearance
Confident that he had escaped detection, Omar chatted gaily with the two policemen. He talked glibly of the stars in an effort to keep the officers’ attention distracted, saying he would tell their fortunes free of charge if they would come again to the Temple.
So sure of himself did the Egyptian become, that when they passed a corner mailbox he paused and dropped the letter to Carson Drew inside. The two policemen watched the envelope fall through the slot, little suspecting the nature of the message.
However, as the group continued on down the street Omar talked a bit too freely. Presently Officer Flynn decided to watch the man closely. He made up his mind that the fellow might be trying to conceal something.
At the next corner Omar parted company with the policemen. It was then that Officer Flynn did a little serious thinking.
“Maybe that fellow was trying to pull the wool over our eyes,” he told his companion. “Come to think of it, I saw more than one figure in the Temple. I distinctly remember seeing two.”
It occurred to the officer that Omar had appeared anxious to get him out of the establishment.
“I’ll go back there and take another look,” he decided. “A fellow can’t be too careful in this district. Goodnight, O’Brien.”
While Officer Flynn was walking toward the Temple, Nancy and George lay unconscious in the locked room. For a time the incense pot burned steadily and then it went out.
After a time Nancy stirred and tried to sit up. Recalling dully what had happened, she groped about in the darkness for her chum. When her hand touched the girl, she gave George a gentle shake.
“What is it?” the other mumbled. “Let me sleep.”
“Wake up!” Nancy whispered, trying to give her friend a little push. “We—must—get—out—of here—somehow.”
“Where—where are we? I don’t—remember a thing.”
“That awful man—shut us up—in this place,” said Nancy with difficulty.
With an effort George roused herself. “The door—locked?” she asked.
“Yes.”
The building was as silent as a tomb.
“We’ll die,” wailed George.
“Keep up your courage,” said Nancy, who was making a supreme effort to do so herself by tapping on the floor. After a few moments she managed to say, “Let’s break down the door.”
“It’s our only chance,” agreed George in a strained voice.
“When I say ‘now,’ ” suggested Nancy, “throw yourself against it with all your strength.”
“I haven’t much,” George said listlessly. “I’m weak as a baby.”
The girls arose and prepared to push against the locked door. Suddenly they were startled by a tapping sound. At first they could not localize it. Then Nancy decided it was coming from a room to their right.
“It sounds—like the tapping of heels,” she whispered. “Some one must be near by.”
“Let’s call for help,” George suggested.
They tried to scream, but actually their voices scarcely arose above a faint cry. The cloak room was so stifling and they were so weak, that their efforts to attract attention soon left the girls exhausted.
Nancy and George gave up all hope of a rescue. As they collapsed on the floor, they thought they heard footsteps in the hall. Arousing themselves, they pounded on the door as best they could.
Several moments elapsed before a key was pushed into the lock. The girls were lying against the door, and as it slowly opened they tumbled out into the hallway.
“Begorry!” exclaimed Officer Flynn. “Where did you come from?”
Nancy and George stood up but could not answer at once for their throats were parched. The policeman turned on a light and studied the girls in amazement.
“If you hadn’t knocked on the door I’d have gone off without finding you,” he said. “I’d just about made up my mind no one was here when I heard that tapping sound.”
Nancy glanced at him quickly as she leaned against the wall. “Then we didn’t imagine it!” she commented. “We did hear you.”
“I guess you girls made noises with your feet too,” the officer said with satisfaction.
“I did,” Nancy replied. “I tried to tap in code.” She regretted having spoken, for Officer Flynn regarded her with suspicion.
“There’s something mighty queer going on in this Temple,” he said grimly. “I reckon you’d best explain.”
“We don’t—know anything—about this strange place,” George declared dreamily, trying to keep her eyes open. “We were shut—in that room by Omar.”
“He drugged us with incense,” Nancy added. “Don’t you notice the odor?”
“I noticed something. Say, aren’t you the same two that I saw prowling around in the restaurant a little while ago?”
“We were trying to get out,” Nancy explained.
“Say, what’s the matter with you girls anyway?” the policeman demanded.
“We were drugged,” Nancy said patiently. “I’m terribly sleepy now.”
Officer Flynn stared doubtfully at the girls, unable to make up his mind whether or not they were telling the truth.
“I guess I’ll have to take you to the police station,” he said finally.
“We’ve done nothing!” Nancy cried indignantly, shaking off the drowsiness for a moment. “Omar is the one who should be arrested.”
“We’ll bring him in for questioning too. There’s funny doings here in this place and I mean to get at the bottom of them all.”
“Please let us go,” George pleaded. “Nancy’s father will be very worried.”
“You should have thought of that before you tried to break into the Temple.”
“We didn’t break in!” Nancy remonstrated.
The officer paid no heed to her words. Taking each girl by an arm, he escorted them from the building and called the patrol wagon. Nancy and George had no recollection of the humiliating ride, for once they were in the vehicle they curled up and fell asleep again.
“Maybe they were telling the truth after all,” Flynn reflected uneasily. “They do act as if they’ve been drugged.”
He became convinced of this when the wagon reached the police station. The girls were so groggy that they could not even give their names, so they were allowed to go to sleep without questioning.
“We’ll find out everything in the morning,” said the desk sergeant. “In the meantime, Flynn, locate that fellow Omar and bring him here.”
For over two hours during the period when much was happening to Nancy, her father had continued his frantic search. With Hannah away and the Faynes not responding to his calls, he was unable to get any clues. The family of Bess Marvin could give no enlightenment on the disappearance, and Mr. Drew hesitated to disturb any of his daughter’s other friends at such a late hour of the night.
“Nancy has been kidnaped!” he decided at last. He suddenly felt ill and heartsick as a new thought occurred to him. “It must be the work of that man Fred Bunce! It’s all my fault, too, for I should have provided my daughter with a guard.”
Mr. Drew’s first impulse was to notify the police. Then he decided that perhaps Stephan Keely would accomplish results in less time. Driving at once to the detective’s home, he aroused the man from bed and told him what had happened.
“I’ll get busy,” Keely said crisply. “I agree it’s probably the work of Bunce. Nancy had learned too much about him.”
Mr. Drew returned home at about three o’clock, hoping against hope that he would find his daughter there. He paced the floor, got a snack from the ice-box, tried to read. Hour after hour went by with no news.
At seven o’clock Hannah Gruen returned. Upon hearing that Nancy had not reached home, the good woman burst into tears.
“I’ve always said that some day the poor dear would get into a scrape she couldn’t get out of,” the housekeeper wailed. “My poor Nancy, what with all this detective work, she’s bound to do herself harm.”
Realizing suddenly that she was making it hard for Mr. Drew, the woman tried to comfort him and coaxed him to eat some breakfast. Saying he was not hungry, he presently went outside and drove down the street.
“If Nancy has been kidnaped,” he thought, “a ransom letter may come in the morning mail.”
Since the delivery would not reach the residential district before ten o’clock, Mr. Drew decided to go early to the post office. After the lawyer had explained why he was so eager to receive his mail, a clerk obligingly went to considerable trouble to sort through the letters. He handed out several routine business communications, then came upon the ransom note from the Egyptian.
“Here’s a letter that might be the one you’re after,” he said, offering it to the attorney.
With a trembling hand Mr. Drew ripped open the envelope. A glance assured him that the note was a demand for money. Nancy had been kidnaped!
For a moment the lawyer felt old and beaten. Then he carefully folded the note, and with a brief word of thanks to the clerk he resolutely walked from the building.