“Huh?” the other boy replied in bewilderment. “I mean, what’s this for?” he said, as Ned dropped the coins in his palm.
“I think it’s important to keep one’s reputation intact,” the boy said briefly, allowing a long silence before he broke into laughter. “If you could only see the look on your face!”
“Mine?” Dave gulped, catching a glace in the mirror. “Hey, what’s that?”
He pointed to a thin crack along the bottom of the glass.
“I wonder how that happened,” Burt said. “It looks as if someone threw something at it.” “Like this, perhaps?” Ned said, holding up his penknife which he had picked up from the floor. “It was in the top drawer.”
He pulled open the drawer, the contents of which were in complete disarray.
“Somebody’s been in this room, all right!” Ned declared. “Check the other drawers and your luggage.”
The boys wasted no time examining their things.
“All my stuff is here,” Dave announced shortly.
“Mine too,” Burt added.
“Well, I’m not missing anything either,” Ned said, staring at the mirror crack. “It seems to me someone must’ve been awfully frustrated to do that—just because he didn’t get what he was looking for.”
“Maybe, or else he was in a big hurry. He started throwing things out of your drawer and the penknife hit the mirror.”
“But if that’s the case, then why isn’t everything else all messed up?” Ned asked. “It just doesn’t make any sense unless—he was here when I came back for my wallet, stopped his search, and shoved the stuff into the drawer.” “But why go to all that trouble?” Burt commented. “It seems to me that regardless of his habits, a stranger who was caught in this room by you or any of the hotel staff wouldn’t have much of a defense.”
“True—but suppose he was one of the hotel staff?” Ned proposed, letting the full weight of his deduction sink in.
“Okay, Nancy Drew,” Dave said with a smirk, “who’s your suspect?”
11. Undeserved Accusation
“The night clerk, of course!” Ned declared, proud of his deduction.
“The night clerk?” Burt repeated, admitting his bewilderment. “I don’t understand. Why him?”
“Because when I realized I couldn’t get into the room last night, I went back to the lobby and he wasn’t around,” Ned said.
“But that doesn’t mean he was in our room,” Dave pointed out.
“True, but then what about Nancy’s message—the one he read over the phone? Where is it? We already agreed that it didn’t sound like something she would write.”
“Are you suggesting that the clerk made it up?” Burt asked, causing Ned to set his jaw firmly.
“Yes, I think so.”
“And he sent us to the Lido even though he probably knew the girls weren’t there,” Dave put in. “Then he contacted a friend and asked him to blow up our boat!”
“Well, in that case, all we have to do is wait for him to come on duty,” Dave said. “We’ll take him by force, if necessary.”
“Oh, sure,” Burt replied, “right in the middle of the hotel lobby.”
Ned noted the hour, saying that it was still early and they had plenty of time left to plan their strategy. Meanwhile, they had no other clues to where their friends were.
“All I know is, if I’m right about the clerk,” Ned said, “he’s probably hoping we’ll book a flight home very soon. Actually, that might not be a bad idea.”
“To go home and leave the girls stranded?” Dave said, incredulous.
“No, no, no. We’ll just pretend we’re leaving,” Ned assured him.
“But how can you make believe you’re leaving and not really leave?”
“By checking out of here and going to another hotel.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Burt said, “because in order to make our departure look realistic, we’d have to take the hotel boat to the airport, then sneak back.”
“Are you sure you want to go through all that?” Dave asked. “I mean, wouldn’t it be just as easy to take our bags and walk out the door?” “Hardly,” his friends chorused.
“We can’t take the chance. One of the other staff members might mention it to the night clerk,” Ned pointed out, “and then we’d really be sunk.”
So it was jointly decided that they would switch hotels.
“I wonder if we can find out where the clerk lives,” Burt said.
“Probably not without drawing suspicion on ourselves,” Ned replied.
“I don’t even know his name,” Dave commented. “Do either of you?”
Both boys shook their heads. “I’m sure we can find out, though,” Ned said, opening his suitcase to repack it.
Burt, meanwhile, telephoned the desk to announce their departure for the airport, prompting Dave to hunt through his guidebook for the name of another hotel.
“How about the Danielli?” he suggested. “How about setting up a tent in the square?” Burt answered with one eyebrow raised.
“In other words, the Danielli’s out,” Dave said. He leafed through a few pages. “Now, here’s something. The Pensione Seguso. ‘Its furniture is elegantly old-fashioned and Venetian. The sitting room and dining rooms have antique, embroidered red-silk wall coverings.’” “Well, I wouldn’t consider any place that didn’t have red-silk wall coverings,” Burt crooned in a high-pitched voice.
“My point is, we could probably stay there without being discovered by the night clerk.” “You’re right,” Burt answered. “Is there a phone number for the pensione?”
Dave nodded as he dialed, and inquired about reservations. “We’ll need a large room for three,” he said into the receiver, then hung up. “You know, something just occurred to me.
What if the girls come back to the Gritti after we leave? We should tell them where they can find us.”
“And risk having somebody open the letter?” Ned asked. “Uh-uh. We’ll call them later.”
“Okay, whatever you say,” Dave replied, allowing the discussion to end as they got ready to leave the hotel. By the time they checked out and started for the airport as part of their ploy, it was well into the afternoon.
Nancy, Bess, and George had determined the steps they would take should their abductors return. Hoping it would be soon, they waited in the unbroken silence of their prison.
Then, several hours later, they heard the familiar clatter of shoes on the cold marble floor outside.
“Get ready,” Nancy whispered to her friends.
George immediately felt her muscles tighten while Bess, quivering slightly, tried to quell her nervousness. The footsteps halted just outside the door, and someone began to push the handle, at the same time muttering in Italian. Nancy laid her hand on Bess’s signaling her to remain quiet.
“Che cosa ce che non funziona con questa porta? What’s the matter with this door?” he said as the handle jiggled from side to side, convincing the young detective that it was not one of their captors. If it were, he would know there was a lug in the lock.
“It’s stuck!” she called out.
“Chi ce U? Who’s there?” the man replied, letting the knob go and causing Nancy to strain for the little Italian she knew.
“Siamo in tre. Bloccatio. Per favore aiute- teci,” she said haltingly. “Three of us. Locked up. Please help.”
“Where’d he go?” Bess asked as the man left in silence.
“I hope he went to get help,” George answered, but to the girls’ chagrin, it seemed to take forever before the stranger returned.
His voice, now low and indistinct, rose only once as someone else, probably a locksmith or a maintenance person, tried to remove the lug. After several attempts, all of them unsuccessful, he began to drill around it.
“I don’t believe it,” Bess said. “We’re really going to get out of here.”
But her optimism faded quickly as the work on the door came to an unexpected end and
the men departed.
“What’s the matter? Why did they stop?” George asked, no less agitated than her two companions.
"I don’t know, but I hope they come back before our captors do,” Nancy said.
“Oh, Nancy, you’re right,” Bess replied. “What'll we do—”
“Look, let’s not get ourselves upset before it happens,” George interrupted, trying to relax.
But it was not until the work on the lock started again that the trio felt another glimmer of hope, and it was not until the door stood open that they believed they were free.
“Grazie, grazie,” the girls said over and over to their rescuers, one of whom proved to be a priest.
He smiled through his owl-eyed glasses, nodding as he stepped past Nancy to look into the room. Upon sight of the rope and the gags, he gasped in horror, pointing them out to the other man in workclothes who stood behind him. Nancy showed them the deep, red impressions that circled her wrists, then indicated Bess’s and George’s, too.
Exclamations of horror sputtered from the priest as he took Nancy’s hand and led her forward. Bess and George followed, leaving the workman behind to pick up his tools and the evidence of the girls’ imprisonment. Soon they found themselves in an office at one end of the basilica, where the priest made a phone call to police headquarters.
“Here we go again,” Bess murmured hopelessly, while Nancy drew the priest’s attention to Antonio’s card, which she had removed from her pocket. She motioned to the telephone.
“Prego. Go right ahead,” he said, nodding.
It was nearly half an hour later when Antonio arrived on the heels of two policemen, one of whom was Captain Donatone. As quickly as she could, Nancy explained what had happened to her and her friends, and Bess described how the hotel clerk had lured her into the trap.
Antonio translated the story into Italian, drawing deep, confused frowns from his listeners.
“He says it’s impossible,” the young interpreter told the girls. “The priest says it is unthinkable that anyone would use the basilica as a prison.”
“It may be unthinkable,” George said, “but it happened. Just look at our arms and legs.”
“He does not say you are lying. Only that he cannot imagine such a thing.”
“Maybe our abductors were dressed like priests,” Bess offered.
There were nods of consideration followed by a loud, unconvinced sigh from Captain Donatone. He said something to the girls’ interpreter that Antonio hesitated to repeat. “What is it, Antonio?” Nancy asked.
“He says—you like this detective business too much. Maybe you like to play tricks on the police.”
“What?” George replied, indignantly. “That’s crazy!”
“Look, all we have to do is show him the door, the lock, and the lug,” Nancy said quietly. “Besides, the priest is a witness.”
But when Antonio conveyed all of this to the men, the priest suggested fetching the workman. He appeared shortly and after several minutes of conversation between himself and the police, most of which the girls did not understand, Antonio cleared his throat.
“Well?” Bess asked, hoping they had finally been vindicated.
“Well,” Antonio said, “according to this man the lug could have been put into the door from either side.”
“That’s preposterous!” George exclaimed. “Calm down,” Nancy told her, turning to Antonio again. “You believe us, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then why don’t the police?”
“It’s not a matter of what they believe or don’t believe, Miss Drew. They just think you are— how you say—meddlesome.”
Nancy lowered her eyes for a second, replying in her steadiest voice, “I’d like to make an official report at headquarters anyway.”
“That is your privilege,” Antonio said as the girl’s lips trembled, not so much from fear as determination to prove herself.
12. New Developments
The police offered to take Nancy and her friends to headquarters at once.
“I just hope they don’t try to keep us there,” Bess confided to her cousin as they walked toward the Rialto with Antonio.
“How could they?” George replied.
“I don’t know. But I’m sure they’d figure out a way if they wanted to.”
“Bess,” Nancy interrupted, “do you think that you would be willing to interview the night clerk for us?”
“The night clerk—me? And wind up in another closet? Uh-uh. No thanks.”
Even George looked askance at the idea.
“What makes you think he’ll show up for work—especially when he finds out we escaped?” she asked.
“Well, it’s only a hunch, mind you,” Nancy said, “but according to my watch, he ought to be going on duty soon, in which case there’d be very little time for anyone to have reported our escape.”
By now, the group had reached the familiar iron door of the police station, and the girls wasted no more conversation on the current topic. Instead, with Antonio’s help, they gave a report of what had happened to them, supplying as many details as they could, including a description of the night clerk.
“I hope you realize you are making a very serious charge against this man,” Antonio translated on behalf of the captain. “Perhaps you should think about it again. After all, it’s possible he was simply trying to get to know you, miss, and became an innocent victim of circumstances?”
Bess shook her head resolutely. “No, Captain,” she said, “I was the victim of circumstances.”
“If you say so—but you have yet to tell me why anyone would want to hold all of you prisoners.”
That was Nancy’s opportunity to reveal the conversation she had overheard in which the name Dandolo was mentioned, but she didn’t say anything, honoring her promise to the duchessa. No one knew about Filippo’s disappearance, and Nancy vowed she would not let the information slip out now.
“Molto bene. Very well then,” Captain Donatone said, filling in the silence. “We will look into the matter further, but I cannot promise what we can do about it. I suggest, however, that you return to the States.”
“We will consider it,” Nancy answered politely, then asked about her Emerson friends.
Hearing they had been released the previous day, the young detectives were both elated and eager to see them.
“Can you imagine how worried they must be about us?” Bess said as they hurried back to the Gritti Palace Hotel accompanied by Antonio. “Oh, we’ll have to go out for a big reunion dinner tonight! I’m absolutely famished!” George tossed her gaze to a sign that said DO FORNI. “Then that’s the restaurant for you,” she announced. “Two ovens for a double-sized stomach!”
“Very funny, George,” her cousin replied. Despite the grimace on her face, however, she felt a modicum of delight at being the butt of George’s teasing again, which she had sorely missed during the past twenty-four hours. “You don’t still want me to talk to the night clerk, do you, Nancy?” she inquired.
“It all depends. Let’s see if he’s around first,” the girl detective said. “Actually, I’m hoping we can get to our room before he turns up—if he turns up.” She gave a sidelong glance to George that did not pass unnoticed by Antonio.
“Perhaps it is not wise for you to stay at the Gritti,” Antonio suggested.
“But it’s so beautiful,” Bess commented. “Oh no, we wouldn’t want to stay anywhere else in Venice.”
The young man smiled, spiraling his gaze toward the sky that now flushed pink in the setting sun. “Well, then, you had better run if you want to catch the view on the canal,” he said. “It should be spectacular.”
“’Bye, Antonio,” the girls said in unison.
“We’ll be sure to call if we need you,” Nancy added cheerfully.
When they reached the Gritti, however, the girls’ spirits sank considerably. Their friends from Emerson College had not only checked out of the hotel. They had left
for home!
“I just don’t believe this is happening to me,” Bess groaned.
“To you?” George asked. “What about the rest of us?”
“Well, you know what I mean,” Bess said, collapsing on her bed to stare at the ceiling. “First, our beautiful vacation turns into a nightmare and then Dave takes off.”
“He wasn’t alone, either,” Nancy put in. “It just doesn’t make sense. It’s so unlike Ned.” “And Burt,” George added, sitting in the chair by the window. “By the way, did anybody notice the night clerk lurking around?”
“No,” Nancy said in a faraway voice, now feeling an uncontrollable desire to sleep.
Perhaps it was due to the stress of recent harrowing events and the fact that since the girls’ arrival in Venice, they had spent little time relaxing. Whatever the reason, Nancy sank deeply into her pillow; and it wasn’t until the phone rang some forty minutes later that she and the other girls awoke.
“Hello,” she said, stifling a yawn as she listened to the voice at the other end. “Ned! Where are you?”
“Are they all still in Italy?” Bess asked eagerly.
Nancy motioned her to be quiet, and when she finished speaking on the phone, she said, “The boys are here, but Ned wouldn’t tell me where they’re staying. We’ll meet them later under the belltower in the square.”
“Next to the basilica?” George asked warily. “You’re sure you were talking to Ned and not somebody who sounded like him?” Bess put in quickly. “I’d hate to walk into another trap.” “If you’re really worried about it,” Nancy said softly, “I can see the fellows alone.”
That was more than enough to spur Bess to her feet. “I wouldn’t think of it. George, please hand me my cosmetic bag,” she said and flew into the bathroom, poking her head out of the door for a second. “How would Dave feel if I didn’t show up?”
“Beats me,” George said, doing all she could to refrain from giggling at her cousin’s newfound energy.
When Bess finally reappeared again, her hair was swept back in a crown of waves, but instead of asking for the girls’ opinion as she usually did, she leaped to the closet.
Mystery of the Winged Lion Page 6