Chapter 3 The Clue of the Velvet Mask by Carolyn Keene
Conflicting Stories
Nancy knew that the detectives could not arrest Linda without evidence. How unjust to frighten her!
“Miss Seeley did not commit the robbery,” she said. “Early in the evening she told me that she was worried because so many uninvited guests must have come. There were many more people here than were invited.”
“Is this true, Mrs. Hendrick?” Detective Ambrose asked.
“I’m afraid it is,” the hostess replied. “We were very foolish not to have taken Miss Seeley’s advice and ask our guests to show their invitations.”
By now, Ambrose had recognized Nancy as the daughter of Carson Drew.
“If you say this girl is all right, Miss Drew, I’ll take your word for it,” he said.
“Linda is a friend of mine.”
“That’s good enough for me,” the officer replied.
“Come along, Linda,” Nancy invited, taking her by the arm. “Ned and I will drive you home.”
After they picked up their wraps, Gloria Hendrick walked with them to the front door. She smiled kindly at the distressed girl.
“We know it wasn’t your fault, Linda,” she said, “but we have suffered a dreadful loss and the party’s ruined. Oh, Nancy, I wish you’d work on the case and help us get back our valuable miniatures. Will you?”
“I’ll do what I can,” Nancy answered. “But maybe the police will find the thieves.”
On the way home Nancy had a sudden brain storm and asked Linda if anyone had rented a black cloak from her company.
“I don’t think so, although several people at the party did rent costumes from us.”
“And masks?”
“Yes, but not like the one you’re carrying.”
When Nancy reached home she found that her father had waited up for her. He was in his study, poring over some notes he planned to use the next day in court.
Sitting in the big leather chair beside his desk, Nancy related everything that had occurred at the party. Mr. Drew listened attentively, showing little surprise at the disclosure that a robbery had taken place.
“Here’s the black velvet hood the police let me keep,” Nancy concluded, handing the mask to her father. “I have a hunch it may be an important clue in the case.”
“How well do you know Linda Seeley, Nancy?”
“Not too well,” she admitted, troubled by the question. “We attended the same school.”
“Your friend may find herself in serious trouble,” the lawyer hinted. “For that matter, the Lightner Entertainment Company already is having difficulties. Keep this to yourself, Nancy, but Mr. Lightner, the owner, has appealed to me to defend his firm against several threatened lawsuits.”
“Who is bringing them?”
“Former customers whose homes were robbed during or after parties arranged by the company. They are demanding that he settle for the losses not covered by insurance, but he insists he’s not liable. They’ve given him a couple of weeks to decide.”
“You’ll defend the firm, Dad?”
“I probably will. Before I definitely commit myself, though, I’d like to do a bit of investigating on my own in connection with the company. The trouble is, I’ll be tied up on an involved real-estate litigation. The case will take me out of town, too.”
“How about appointing me your deputy?” Nancy proposed eagerly. “I’d love to delve into the mystery!”
“I suspected as much,” her father chuckled. “All right, Nancy. While I’m away tomorrow, suppose, as your first assignment, you check up on both Mr. Lightner and Linda and find out what you can.”
“I’ll do that—first thing,” Nancy promised.
The Lightner office was situated on a narrow downtown street of River Heights. Early the next morning Nancy located it, and on the pretext of returning the Spanish costumes asked to see Mr. Lightner personally.
He was a short, slightly built man of exceedingly nervous manner and speech.
“What can I do for you?” he inquired. “I trust you found your costumes satisfactory?”
“In every respect, Mr. Lightner. One of your employees, Linda Seeley, selected them.”
“Linda is a very capable girl,” Mr. Lightner remarked. “She hasn’t been here many months, but she learns fast. And she has clever ideas.”
Having delivered himself of this speech, the company president became silent.
Nancy glanced around the room. The office walls were decorated with an unusual collection of weird-looking masks.
One cylinder-shaped head covering particularly fascinated Nancy, for long horns had been affixed to it. To another a red feather plume had been attached.
“You’re interested in masks?” Mr. Lightner asked.
“Yes. You have a fine collection here.”
“One I’ve accumulated over the years,” he told Nancy proudly. “See that Fire God mask on the east wall? I got it from a Zuñi Indian chief in New Mexico.”
Mr. Lightner went on to explain that these were ceremonial masks used among the Indians.
“Sometimes they are constructed to imitate animals.”
“You have a great many velvet masks, I suppose?” Nancy asked thoughtfully.
“Yes. Most of them are kept in the wardrobe room. Would you like to see them?”
“Very much.”
Mr. Lightner pressed a buzzer, summoning an employee named John Dale to show Nancy through the wardrobe rooms.
“I wish I had time to take you around myself,” the president said regretfully. “I could talk myself hoarse on the subject of masks.”
To draw him out a little further, Nancy asked if any particular history were connected with the wearing of black velvet masks.
“Oh, yes,” he replied. “Men first wore them during the reign of Louis XIV. In that period of terror and political intrigue it wasn’t safe to appear on the street except in disguise. Black velvet hoods were worn especially with wide-sleeved dominoes or robes.”
“Do you have some of these robes for rent?”
“Yes. John will show them to you. He’ll explain more about their history too.”
Warmed by Nancy’s enthusiastic interest, John Dale escorted her through the wardrobe rooms.
“In early days,” he said, “French and English ladies used a great deal of powder and rouge. Masks served as a protection against sun, wind, and dust. Often they were lined with fine silk. As a further protection, glass sometimes was fitted into the eye openings.”
Nancy switched the subject to black dominoes, saying she had been at the Hendricks’ masquerade and danced with a stranger who wore one.
“I’ve been wondering who he is,” she said. “Did you happen to rent such a costume?”
“No, I didn’t,” John replied. “Everyone who came to me wanted something spectacular. Would you like to see our black cloaks? We have several kinds.”
“Why, yes, I would,” Nancy replied, trying to stifle her excitement. It was possible that someone else had rented the costume to the thief!
The young man showed her a rack of black cloaks, some with attached hoods, some without. He was closing the glass door of the case when Nancy’s gaze fastened upon a particular robe.
“Wait!” she exclaimed. “May I see that garment a moment?”
The long black cloak, which hung in graceful folds, had a slight tear near the hem. Examining it closely, Nancy noted that a tiny piece of material was missing.
“Was this cloak returned here today?”
“I don’t know,” John replied. “You’ll have to ask the intake clerk. Or Mr. Lightner.”
What a stroke of luck! She had come upon the very garment she sought. Surely this cloak with the missing bit of cloth must have been worn by the masked man she and Ned had seen at the garden trellis.
If her luck continued, she would soon learn the name of the person who had rented the costume!
“I’ll see Mr. Lightner,” she told John Dale. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.”