Mystery of the Winged Lion

by Carolyn Keene

  “Suppose we get arrested for trespassing?” Dave asked Ned.

  “Suppose we do?” Burt said. “It’s better than being accused of theft.”

  Ned chuckled. “I hope you both realize you’re beginning to make me feel guilty over absolutely nothing,” he went on, and pushed beyond the dimness of a few lamp posts.

  The threesome now walked evenly toward the bridge, looking for any evidence of the person who had thrown the explosive.

  “I’m sure it was homemade,” Ned murmured.

  “Lucky for us it wasn’t designed to go off in water,” said Burt, when he spotted a dark felt cap on the ground.

  He dived for it, noticing footprints as well. They were fairly small and close together, which implied they belonged to someone shorter than either of the boys.

  “Let me see the cap,” Ned requested, peering at a well-worn label inside. “Didn’t we pass a store with this name?”

  He held it in front of Dave and Burt.

  “Yes, on the way to the Gritti, I think,” Dave replied, “but there are probably hundreds of people who own hats like this one.”

  “And I’m sure the proprietor won’t remember who bought it,” Burt concurred.

  “Even so, I’m going to hang onto it,” Ned remarked. “One thing Nancy taught me is never take any clue for granted.”

  “I’m not convinced that bomb was strictly intended for us,” Burt said.

  “Well, if it wasn’t, then who was it meant for?” Dave asked.

  “Maybe our boat driver,” Burt suggested.

  “I doubt it,” Ned said.

  “But why would anybody want to hurt us?” Burt asked.

  “I don’t know,” Dave replied. “Perhaps it’s all tied in with the trouble over that glass statue.”

  “True,” Ned said, “and I’d sure like to find out who masterminded that little frame-up.” “Wouldn’t we all,” Burt declared, as the putting sound of a boat approached from the hotel. “Uh-oh, I think we just missed our ride back.” He and Dave had observed the boat schedule on the canal entrance to the Excelsior, and cast frowns at each other.

  “There’ll be another one,” Ned said confidently.

  “No, there won’t,” Dave answered. “Not until tomorrow morning.”

  “Are you positive?”

  “Positive.”

  “Oh, well, considering all that’s happened tonight—” Ned sighed. “I guess we ought to be glad it isn’t raining, too.”

  With that, a flash of lightning cracked through the sky and small bullets of water trickled down the boys’ faces.

  “See what I mean?” the Emerson boy said, tossing his shoulders in disgust. “That takes care of our detective work!”

  9. Thwarted Search

  As rain heaved itself in waves across the canal, Ned and the other boys ran back toward the hotel from where the last boat of the evening had just left. They tried to attract the driver’s attention but it was no use. The rain was beating harder now and blurred their vision.

  “Hurry,” Ned said in a panting voice. “Maybe the guy at the dock can radio the boat back.” But when they reached the man in uniform, he was huddled behind the door talking to someone else.

  “Scusi,” Burt said, attempting unsuccessfully to cut into the conversation. Dave cast an impatient glance at Ned who was equally dismayed.

  At last, however, the man turned to them, and, hearing their predicament, said he would call a water-taxi as soon as the storm lifted.

  "That could take hours,” Dave said pessimistically.

  "Boy, I hope not,” Ned replied. “I’m exhausted—”

  The rest of his comment faded quickly, though, as a young, titian-haired woman in a green silk dress trailed down the stairway carrying a large umbrella. She paused briefly at a display of clothing in a window, then turned, aware of Ned staring at her.

  “Look,” he whispered to his friends, “that’s the girl we saw upstairs.”

  "And it isn’t Nancy,” Dave remarked sheepishly. “Now what?”

  “Well, before we do anything else, let’s call the Gritti and see if the girls are back.”

  "Good idea," Burt agreed, following the other two to the main lobby.

  After a brief explanation to the concierge, Ned was offered the use of a nearby phone. The call went through immediately despite an interruption of static, but to his disappointment, the answer was the same as before. His American friends had not returned.

  “Oh, but—yes—wait a moment,” the night, clerk said. “There is a message here for you. Shall I read it?”

  “Yes, please” Ned answered, waiting anxiously while paper rustled out of an envelope at the other end.

  “It says— Are you listening?” the clerk inquired.

  “Yes, yes, I’m here,” Ned said. “Go on.”

  “It says, ‘Sorry we weren’t able to see you today. Something unexpected came up and we had to leave Venice. We’ll try to be back by tomorrow, but if we can’t, we’ll see you at home.’ It is signed, ‘Your friend, Nancy Drew.’ ”

  “That’s all?” Ned asked.

  “Si.”

  “PIease put it in our box then,” he said. “We’ll pick it up when we return.”

  “As you wish.”

  With that, Ned hung up the receiver. He was troubled as well as mystified by the contents of the letter, which he related to Burt and Dave.

  “It’s not only the formality of the signature,” he stated.

  “You can say that again,” Dave interposed. “At least, Bess would’ve signed ‘Love, Bess.’ I mean, does Nancy always add her last name?”

  “No, never. But what bothers me more is the fact she didn’t say where they all went.” “Obviously, they’re on a secret mission,” Burt concluded.

  “Hmph. Since when is a secret mission a secret from us?” Dave answered, eliciting a nod from Burt.

  “And what’s all this business about seeing us at home if they don’t get back to Venice?” Ned added in a tone of disbelief.

  “That is a bit much,” Burt agreed, “but I guess we’ll have to take a look at the handwriting to make sure it’s from Nancy—”

  Another crash of thunder ended the discussion, however, and the threesome returned downstairs, determined to press the man on duty for a taxi. But he remained adamant.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “I cannot do anything for you. No one will come.”

  “But what if it was an emergency?” Dave asked.

  “What can I say? Look at the rain now. It’s worse than ever.”

  As he spoke, gusts of wind spilled angrily across the canal, churning the water into high waves.

  “Too dangerous, too dangerous,” the man repeated. “You sit, or go upstairs and dance. Enjoy yourselves—inside!”

  If only the boys could, but they felt trapped and helpless, wondering where Nancy, Bess, and George had disappeared to.

  The time passed slowly as the threesome wandered through the hotel again, looking in display windows that lined the corridors while hoping for a letup in the weather.

  “Hey, check this out,” Dave said, drawing his friends’ attention.

  “What is it?” Ned replied absently, then focused on a shelf of crystal. These things look very similar to the piece the customs man found in my suitcase!”

  “Don’t they, though?”

  The boys noted the signature under the manufacturer’s sign. It was an unusual design of the famed winged lion followed by the name Filippo.

  “He sure makes some beautiful stuff,” Burt commented, “and judging from the fact there aren’t any prices on it, I bet it’s pretty expensive, too.”

  Although they anticipated finding more samples of the artist’s work, they didn’t and finally gave up their search.

  “I was just thinking,” Dave said. “Suppose Nancy’s note isn’t legitimate? The night clerk told us they mentioned going to the Lido. What if they’re still here?”

  “Well, I’m sure they wouldn’t have misse
d the last boat back to the Gritti,” Burt said.

  “Unless they did by accident or were forced to,” Ned replied. “Weather permitting, we can still make a search of the beach and every hotel.”

  But there had only been a temporary break in the storm, which now grew stronger than ever.

  “It looks as if we’ll have to book ourselves in here for the night,” Ned continued, “and postpone our investigation until tomorrow.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Burt said, glancing at Dave who nodded also.

  Despite the fact that it was peak season at the beach hotel, the boys were able to obtain a room. It was considerably more expensive than they had counted on, but they took it anyway.

  “What’s a few lira more or less when our friends may be in danger?” Dave said as they registered their names.

  “Exactly,” Ned agreed. “But remember, I don’t have a wallet.”

  The other boy smiled limply. “In that case—” he sighed—“I guess we’ll have to settle for cold rolls in the morning.”

  “Could be worse,” Burt said, as they followed the porter to the elevator and their room, which proved to be a small suite.

  “Maybe we ought to stay up to really appreciate all this,” Dave quipped, gazing at the velvet furnishings and tasseled drapes.

  “You go right ahead,” Burt said, “but I’m going to bed—immediately.”

  A deep yawn emphasized his intention.

  “Me, too,” Ned added, collapsing against his pillow. Dave followed suit, but only after one more sweeping glance.

  With the steady downpour of rain thudding against the windows, he barely Imagined next morning’s sunlight.

  But the next day, it burst across the boys in a blaze of warmth, jolting them awake.

  “Close the drapes,” Dave mumbled as he pulled the sheet over his head.

  Ned had already dived into the shower, leaving Burt to pry Dave out of bed.

  “Get up,” he said. “It’s after nine.”

  “Okay, okay,” Dave answered but made no attempt to move.

  “Don’t you want to find Bess?” Burt went on, stretching to his full frame.

  “Sure, sure. Just give me five more minutes.”

  However, by the time they all reached the dining room, it was well past ten o’clock. Ned had made one final call to the Gritti to see if there was any further message from Nancy; but as he suspected, there was none.

  During the course of the night, the girl detectives had been carried to another room within the basilica. It had happened while they were sleeping. Their gags had been doused with something sweet, to assure their abductors there would be no struggle. When the prisoners awoke, they felt light-headed, aware of the sickening odor that still clung to their nostrils.

  They must’ve drugged us, Nancy surmised. But why?

  She stretched her legs out groping for the familiar wall but it wasn’t there, and the young sleuth realized they had been moved. No doubt they had been secreted away in a room where there was no chance of anyone finding them!

  Her only consolation, though, was that Ned and the other Emerson boys were probably out of jail by now.

  When they don’t find us at the hotel, they’ll know something happened, Nancy thought, and they’ll start searching right away!

  10. Troublesome Discovery

  Nancy’s other hope was that her father would be arriving in Italy, too; and he would join in the search, unless, of course, he became immersed in his own case and did not try to call Nancy until later in the week!

  As these troublesome thoughts continued to plague her mind, she dragged herself backward, bumping into George and Bess who also realized they were in a new location. They, like their companion, had begun to explore it. But Nancy was the first to discover an old radiator with a thin metal pipe that jutted out from the base.

  She slipped her wire cuff over it and rubbed back and forth until her bonds snapped in half, freeing her hands at long last! Then she reached for the gag around her mouth, removing it just as quickly.

  “The wire’s off,” she told her friends happily, “and I’ll get rid of the ankle rope any minute. Just be patient.”

  But her words fell short as footsteps in the distance echoed along the marble floor.

  “Someone’s coming. Uh-oh,” she said, putting back her gag.

  The footsteps stopped momentarily, and the young detective wondered if the person was one of their captors. But before she could think about it further, she heard men’s voices, muttering Italian in low, growling tones. Still, Nancy understood a few of the words, among them the name Dandolo!

  Filippo’s kidnappers! she gasped. But what arc they saying about him?

  Instantly, she freed herself and her friends, signaling them to remain quiet as she peered through the door lock. But a lug was in it and she could not see the men.

  “What if they find us like this?” Bess whispered nervously.

  “Sh,” George warned her. “Nancy’s trying to listen.”

  But the girl detective was not having much success. She strained to hear the words passing between the two, catching only a few that made no sense to her at all.

  “What are they saying?” Bess asked.

  “Be-ess,” George chided her again.

  “I’m not sure. Something about ‘Roma’ and ‘Murano',” Nancy replied.

  “Rome and Murano—hmph,” George repeated. “I wonder—”

  The sound of footsteps interrupted again, and Nancy slid away from the door.

  “Quick! Put everything back on,” she warned. Fast as lightning, the girls obeyed, holding their breath as the shuffle of feet stopped on the other side of the wall. The men spoke again, but in low, indistinct voices that faded as their steps unexpectedly changed direction.

  “Whew!” Nancy sighed moments later when it was clear the men had left.

  She tried pushing the lug out of the lock but it wouldn’t give.

  “Now what will we do?” Bess asked, showing the same fearful expression that usually drew a word of comfort from her friends.

  This time, however, George said, “I’m not sure.”

  “Neither am I, but—” Nancy started to say.

  “But what?”

  “Well, it seems to me we have two choices. We can either wait here like three sitting ducks or try to get out.”

  “But we already tried,” Bess countered.

  “Oh, I know, but I have another idea.”

  While the young detective revealed her plan of escape, the Emerson boys were working on their own investigation. They had checked out of the Hotel Excelsior and walked up the beach, observing the long rows of cabanas that obscured their occupants from view.

  “Maybe we ought to ask if the girls signed up for one,” Ned suggested.

  “Just lead the way,” Burt said, leaping down the terrace steps to a small entranceway.

  There they found several guests from the Gritti Palace who had arrived only minutes before. They were eagerly awaiting the cabana assignments listed on a large sheet of paper bearing columns of names.

  “That’s what we want to see,” Dave whispered to his friends.

  Although they were impatient, they waited politely for the other people to finish and leave, then made their inquiry. Unfortunately, it led to a negative response.

  “Of course, they could be using a cabana at another hotel,” Burt offered.

  “Not if they’re guests of the Gritti,” Ned replied. “It has a reciprocal arrangement with the Excelsior regarding cabanas. Come on, let’s go.

  The boys continued their walk, pausing briefly to admire the deep azure water that lapped in gentle waves against the shoreline.

  “It’d be nice just to lie out there and bake.” Dave sighed, turning his face up to the sun.

  “Okay, beach boy, that’s all the tan you’re going to get today,” Burt teased, picking up his pace. “It’s hard to believe there was a storm last night, isn’t it?”

  Upon closer
observation, though, he realized it had done more than leaf damage to the trees. A telephone line had come down, along with a traffic light that lay splintered in the road.

  “How far do you want to go?” Dave asked Ned.

  “Just up to the Hotel Des Bains. I figure if the girls got stuck here overnight they’d probably want to get back to the Gritti to change, and they’d have to take the boat from the Excelsior.”

  “What if they were on the trail of something important?” Burt asked. “You still think they’d rush back to the Gritti?”

  “Let’s put it this way,” Ned said. “We haven’t passed them yet, so there’s a chance we may.”

  But the trip to the Des Bains proved as fruitless as everything else, and the boys decided to take the next boat back to the Gritti. As soon as they arrived, they requested to see Nancy’s message.

  To their amazement, it wasn’t in their mailbox.

  “But the night clerk said he was going to leave it for us,” Ned insisted.

  “You will have to ask him, then,” said the man behind the desk. “I know absolutely nothing about it.”

  “Well, perhaps you can send someone up to open the door to 124,” the boy went on, glancing at the key in front of him. “This didn’t work for me last evening.”

  A look of puzzlement greeted the statement. “Then how did you get in?” the man inquired.

  “We didn’t,” Dave said. “We got stuck in the storm at the Lido.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, just a moment. Let me call someone to help you.”

  The clerk disappeared into a back office and a porter soon picked up the troublesome key. The boys followed him upstairs, and stood watching as he inserted it into the lock, turning it gently until it clicked open.

  “Now how is that possible?” Ned said, utterly astonished, as the porter nodded and left. “Maybe I dreamed I—”

  “Old cheapo here thought he’d save a few lira by leaving his wallet behind.” Dave laughed teasingly.

  “That’s me, all right.” Ned grinned and opened a dresser drawer, pulling out the wallet and a few coins inside. “Here you are.”