Chapter 17 The Clue of the Tapping Heels by Carolyn Keene
Travelers
“I don’t know who you think I am,” the man on the telephone replied to Nancy. “My name ain’t Penello.”
“Then who are you?” asked the girl.
“I’m not tellin’ my name. But get this straight! Don’t be runnin’ to the newspapers or the police with your rattle-brained ideas, or you’ll find yourself in real trouble!”
“I’m not the least bit afraid of your threats,” Nancy replied coldly. “And I’m quite certain your name is Penello. For that matter, I have seen you during the past twenty-four hours at the Temple of the Stars. You are friendly with the man who tried to kidnap me.”
“That’s a lie,” muttered the voice on the wire.
Then the receiver clicked and Nancy knew that the man had hung up.
“It was Penello all right,” she thought. “I succeeded in frightening him, too. I don’t believe he’ll dare make any trouble for me.”
Carson Drew did not share his daughter’s confidence. Returning home that evening he was alarmed to hear of the threat.
“Nancy, I wish you would go away for a week or two until this matter dies down,” he said anxiously. “I feel that you’re not very safe here in River Heights.”
“Oh, Dad, I’ll be careful,” his daughter protested. “Besides, I’m not afraid of a man like Penello.”
“You don’t know what he will do if he thinks you are trying to put him in jail. He may be closely connected with Omar.”
The Drew girl considered her father’s advice several moments before replying.
“Please don’t ask me to go away just now,” Nancy pleaded. “I promise to be very watchful and careful.”
Carson Drew said no more for the time being. He considered hiring a bodyguard but gave up the idea, realizing that it would be very unpleasant for Nancy, who loved freedom.
The next day the girl went to Berryville to visit Miss Carter who had sent a sympathetic little note upon reading of the boat disaster. Arriving at the home, Nancy learned that the woman was asleep, so she lingered in the kitchen for a time to chat with Mrs. Bealing.
“How have things been going here?” she asked the housekeeper.
“Oh, fairly well,” Mrs. Bealing responded after a slight hesitation.
“You don’t sound entirely satisfied.”
“It’s not that, Nancy. I adore Miss Carter but she’s so impractical. I’m sure she’ll be destitute before the end of a year.”
“Is she careless with her money?”
“She doesn’t spend a nickel on herself. It’s that girl in New York—Beverly Barrett. Every few days she writes for more money and Miss Carter always sends it to her. Beverly has to have music and French lessons, besides instruction in voice culture.”
“Why is Miss Carter so devoted to her?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, except that she believes the girl will make a wonderful actress. Someone should tell Beverly Barrett the truth!”
“It does seem a pity that the young woman squanders so much money when Miss Carter is almost in poverty,” Nancy said thoughtfully.
“Some folks are selfish and grasping. I have no patience with them myself. I’m almost tempted to go to New York and tell that girl a thing or two!”
“She probably doesn’t understand the situation, Mrs. Bealing. Miss Carter may have led her to believe she has plenty of money.”
“Yes, I suppose it’s unfair to blame the girl entirely. I know for a fact that Miss Carter has never given her a hint of her true financial state.”
“Has anything else gone wrong?” Nancy asked after a moment. She had observed that Mrs. Bealing appeared more nervous than usual.
“We’ve been annoyed by that tapping sound again,” the housekeeper revealed. “It bothers me more than it does Miss Carter.”
“I thought surely the cause would be discovered before this time,” Nancy said, frowning. “It must be the wind rattling something loose.”
“That might be true if the tapping sound would always come from the same place in the house but it doesn’t. Last night I heard it very plainly in the basement.”
“Let’s look down there now,” Nancy suggested.
“It’s of absolutely no use. I’ve been down in the cellar a dozen times. This morning I heard the noise again and it seemed to come from the attic. It’s enough to drive a body wild.”
“I don’t wonder you’re nervous, Mrs. Bealing.”
“I’ve never really believed in ghosts or the like, but now I’m beginning to wonder if maybe this old house isn’t haunted after all.”
“You’ll discover the explanation one of these days,” Nancy laughed. “Of course the place isn’t haunted.”
She lowered her voice as a step was heard on the stairway. Miss Carter, awake by this time, was coming slowly down to the living room. She greeted Nancy warmly, chiding the housekeeper for not having called her.
“I’ve been here only a minute,” Nancy told the actress. “We’ll still have time for a long chat.”
First the woman asked to be told everything about the steamship disaster and the attempted kidnaping. When those subjects had been exhausted she led Nancy to the shed to show her a new litter of Persian kittens.
“They were born two days ago,” Miss Carter said proudly.
She reached down and picked up one of the pets.
“I’d like to have you accept this little fellow, Nancy, as soon as he’s old enough to be taken away,” she urged. “You’ve done so much for me.”
“I’d love to keep the kitten!” Nancy cried in delight. “He’s such a fluffy little darling.”
It was growing late, so in a few minutes she said good-bye to Miss Carter. Before leaving the house she quietly asked Mrs. Bealing for the New York address of the actress Beverly Barrett.
“You don’t intend to visit her, surely?” the housekeeper inquired in surprise.
“I might take a trip to New York,” Nancy admitted. “Dad wants me to leave River Heights for a few days.”
That very evening at the dinner table her father again broached the subject saying he would prefer having his daughter go away. He declared he thought it an excellent plan for her to spend several days in the city.
“Why not take George and Bess with you?” he suggested. “You girls could do a little shopping, see a few good plays, and have a nice time.”
“We could manage to keep busy all right.”
“By the time you get back here the case may be settled.”
“I hope it won’t be entirely cleared up,” Nancy said ruefully. “I’d like to help with it a little bit.”
“Until that fellow Omar is captured I consider it dangerous for both you and George to remain in River Heights.”
“I don’t mind going to New York for a few days, but I can’t agree to stay away longer than a week.”
“Even a week will be of help,” Mr. Drew smiled. “If George and Bess are able to go with you I’ll make reservations for you on the morning train.”
Both the Marvins and the Faynes agreed that their daughters might make the journey. The girls packed their luggage and were waiting at the station the next morning when the heavy train pulled in.
Nancy and her chums bade good-bye to their parents and took their seats in the car. They glanced about curiously, for it was the first time they had traveled on one of the newer and faster electric trains.
“There is Mr. St. Will!” Nancy exclaimed suddenly as she noticed a passenger farther down the aisle.
The handsome gentleman, seeing the girls at the same moment, came to speak to them.
“Well, well, it is a pleasure to meet you again,” he said cordially. “Are you traveling far?”
“We’re on our way to New York,” Nancy answered.
“That is my destination also,” the actor smiled. “A certain producer has called me there for consultation.”
“Are you planning to return to the stage?” Nancy asked with interest.
“I think not. What I hope to do is interest a producer in a revival of ‘The Tapping Heels.’ ”
“That is Miss Carter’s play!” Nancy exclaimed with pleasure.
“Quite so. It is an excellent piece of character writing. I know just the actress to take the leading part.”
“If the play should be revived Miss Carter would draw a royalty again, wouldn’t she?” Nancy asked reflectively.
“Yes, she undoubtedly would profit well.”
Nancy studied Mr. St. Will curiously. She felt certain that the actor’s chief reason in recommending the drama was to aid his old friend. Of course it would be useless to ask him if this were true, for he would deny his generous motives. Perhaps the man read the girl’s thoughts, for he said quickly:
“ ‘The Tapping Heels’ never received the recognition that it deserved. It is a fine piece of writing. Otherwise I should never have suggested that it be revived on the stage.”
“I wish Miss Carter could take the leading rôle herself,” the romantic Bess remarked.
Mr. St. Will shook his head.
“It must be played by a young person.”
“You mentioned that you had someone in mind,” Nancy remarked by way of suggestion.
“Yes, I am acquainted with a talented young actress in New York who could handle the part very well. She is not as experienced as some, it is true, but she has great talent. Beverly Barrett’s only fault is that she is too temperamental.”
“Beverly Barrett!” gasped Bess, startled by the familiar name.
Nancy sent her chum a quick, warning glance. She did not wish Mr. St. Will to know that they were aware of Miss Carter’s connection with the rising young actress.