The Emerald-Eyed Cat Mystery

by Carolyn Keene

  Frustrated and hungry, she wandered out into the hall. In the daylight, she could appreciate the impressive Spanish architecture of the place, which, despite its beauty, had a forbidding atmosphere. Cobwebs linked every bar and curlique of the decor, and dust lay like gray fur on

  the dark metal of the grill that barred her way.

  “This hasn’t been opened for years,” Nancy observed to the cat, who was padding along behind her. “How did Elena and Ricardo get into this part of the house?”

  Maro stretched, yawned, then slipped through the bars of the grill, disappearing into the dark hall beyond.

  “Thanks a lot, cat,” Nancy murmured, staring after the sleek animal. Then she went downstairs. Again, all she found were locked rooms and a grill just beneath the one on the second floor. She retraced her steps and saw another flight of stairs leading to a third story. She had no better luck there. More locked rooms, another grill. When she walked back to the stairs, she noted that her footsteps were the only ones visible in the dust. No one has been up here in ages, Nancy deduced. She went downstairs again, examining the floor closely. On the second floor she could see many footprints, some large, some smaller. She suddenly realized that they led into the library she had briefly inspected the .previous night.

  She followed the tracks into the book-filled room and paused. She surveyed the floor carefully, then continued along the trail of footprints to a section of the bookcases near the ornate stone fireplace that dominated one wall.

  “Aha,” the girl said softly, noticing the smudged shelf. “You’re not going to keep me a prisoner in this wing for long, Elena. Not if I can figure out how this panel works . . .”

  7. A Secret Passage

  Deftly Nancy’s fingers examined the wood until she heard a click. She jumped back, startled. A section of the shelves swung soundlessly open! Beyond was a narrow stone ledge and steps leading down into the darkness.

  Nancy hurried back into her room to get the pencil flashlight she always carried in her pock- etbook. When she could not find it, she sighed.

  I must have lost it, she thought, and grabbed the candle and matchbook instead. Moments later she was descending the stairwell behind the bookcase. The air was damp and cold, and its shifting currents made her candle flicker er- ractically. The steps were narrow and worn,

  and the young detective was glad when she reached the bottom. She found herself in a passage that seemed to wind through the very walls of the old mansion.

  “I don’t blame Maro for taking the other route,” she murmured as she passed a dark opening. “This place is like a cave.”

  Her voice echoed spookily, making her even more conscious of being alone. She was glad to find another set of stone steps just past the opening of a second side passage. Cautiously, she climbed up, shielding her dancing candle flame.

  The steps ended in a ledge similar to the one she’d found beyond the bookcase in the library. A small handle was set in the old wood of the wall. Nancy waited, chewing nervously on her lower lip. She was eager to escape, but she was not anxious to fall into the hands of the men who’d kidnapped her in Phoenix.

  Placing her ear against the wood, she listened. There was no sound from beyond. She took a deep breath, grasped the handle, and turned it. The panel opened with a faint click, and she found herself in what appeared to be a closet. Light filtered in from a partly-open door on the far side of a neat row of coats and jackets that hung there.

  Relieved, Nancy blew out her candle, closed the panel, and stepped forward. Carefully, she peered out the door.

  “Wow!” The word slipped out as she stared at a new world. Beautiful Spanish tile gleamed beneath her feet, and ornately-carved benches and chairs stood in what appeared to be the foyer of the hacienda. Nancy made sure she was alone, then stepped out into the sunny room.

  There was a closed door on one side, a beautiful parlor on the other. The closet itself was under a grand staircase that ascended from the foyer to the second floor. In front of her, a wide corridor led to the rear of the mansion. Nancy hesitated. Then her sensitive nose caught the faint aroma of food, and her stomach rumbled in response.

  She followed the scent along the corridor, passing an open dining room that could comfortably seat thirty people, then peeked through a swinging door into a shiny, modem kitchen. It was empty.

  Several dishes stood on one of the counters— the source of the delicious aromas. They contained sausage, eggs, several kinds of sweet rolls, and toast.

  Hungrily, Nancy took a plate from the stack on a nearby shelf and helped herself to several sausages, eggs, and toast. Then she wrapped four

  sweet rolls in a napkin for future rations. Aware of her vulnerability, she retreated to the closet, hiding herself in its peaceful dimness while she devoured the feast.

  Eating restored her spirits and bolstered her determination to investigate the mansion. When she had finished, she left her plate on a shelf and let herself back into the foyer. It still appeared deserted as she went up the stairs to the second floor.

  A long hall flanked on both sides by doors led toward the rear of the building. Nancy followed it and cautiously opened each door, peering into several bedrooms. There was no sign of neglect, but none of the rooms was occupied.

  When Nancy opened the last door on the right-hand side, it banged slightly against a small footstool behind it. The next moment, Nancy stared into the startled eyes of an elderly woman resting in bed.

  “Mariposa, you have come back!” The woman’s voice was high and shrill, and the words were in Spanish.

  Nancy stood still, too shocked to move.

  “Come in, Mariposa, please. I missed you so much.” The speaker’s face was pale and lined, and her dark eyes were shadowed, as though she’d suffered greatly. Her black hair was liberally threaded with silver. It curled softly around

  her face, and Nancy could see that she’d once been a great beauty.

  “I’m sorry I walked in on you,” Nancy began, convinced the woman was Rosalinda del Luz. “I was looking for Elena.”

  “Elena is at school, you know that,” the woman answered. “But please, come closer. You do not look any older than you were the day you left to marry Paolo. Where have you been so long? Why did you let me think you were dead?” Her dark eyes were feverish, and the hands that reached out to her were thin and delicate.

  “My name is Nancy Drew,” the girl whispered as she closed the door behind her.

  “Mariposa, do not tease me,” the woman cried. “I have been ill, and they are trying to trick me. I need your help now, little sister. It is why you have come back—to help me?” The frail body moved nervously under the silken bedcovers. Nancy could sense the woman’s agitation, and it frightened her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Of course I’ll help you. What can I do? Who is trying to trick you?” Rosalinda del Luz settled back in the old- fashioned, draped canopy bed, and a warm smile lit up her delicate features. “It is so good to have you here. Elena has deserted me. I tried to be a mother to her, just as I knew you would

  want me to, but I never see her and they say she has changed.”

  “Who says so?” Nancy asked, hating to pretend to be someone she wasn’t, yet afraid to argue with the old woman.

  “Senor Cordova does. He says that he will take care of everything for me, but I am not sure I trust him, Mariposa. He seems kind and competent, but there is something . . . Will you take care of things for a while, little sister? I need to rest and not have the bad dreams. I need someone ...” A thin hand reached out and grasped Nancy’s warm fingers with surprising strength.

  “I’m here,” Nancy soothed. “I’ll help, if you’ll just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Have you seen the cat?” Rosalinda’s eyes were suddenly wary.

  “The cat?” The abrupt change of subject left Nancy confused.

  “The emerald-eyed cat, have you seen it? Is it safe? We cannot let them get it.”

  “I saw him
just a little while ago,” Nancy assured her. “He was fine.”

  Rosalinda’s anguish faded. “Take care of the cat,” she whispered. “It is all that is left.”

  “I don’t understand,” Nancy protested, but the tight grip was already loosening, and the woman slumped back against her pillows, her eyes closed.

  8. Danger in the Hall

  For a moment, Nancy thought the woman had fainted, then a soft snore rippled through the air. Rosalinda del Luz was asleep.

  Nancy watched her for several minutes, hoping she would awaken and explain her statements. However, the woman seemed exhausted, and Nancy rose with a sigh to explore the room for some clue to the source of Rosalinda’s problem.

  There was a collection of photographs on the mantelpiece, and when Nancy looked at them, she gasped in surprise. A large picture, faded now, showed two young women. One was Rosalinda, the other, a reddish-blond girl who bore a striking resemblance to Nancy.

  Mariposa! the young detective thought. No wonder Rosalinda was surprised to find me in

  her room. She stepped back from the fireplace and noticed an elegant drape hanging behind the collection of pictures. Curious, she tugged at the corded pull, then gasped when she saw the painting that the drapery had covered.

  It was a study of Rosalinda and Mariposa, again as young girls. But what drew Nancy’s attention was the large glass case that separated the two and formed the focal point of the portrait. It held art objects of great beauty—a silver unicorn with a ruby collar, a golden rabbit, a tiny golden crown set with jewels, and a cat with green eyes.

  “So that’s what Rosalinda was talking about,” Nancy murmured as she admired the largest of the treasures. The animal was life-sized with flashing emerald eyes and a magnificent collar of diamonds.

  Nancy glanced at the sleeping woman, wanting to wake her and ask her questions. But she was aware that Rosalinda’s mental state was too precarious for conclusive answers. Swallowing a sigh, she closed the drape over the portrait.

  Rosalinda del Luz whimpered and shifted a little, settling deeper into her sleep. Nancy touched her hand gently. “I’ll be back,” she whispered, “and I will try to help, I promise.”

  The hall appeared deserted when she left the woman’s room and started back toward the front

  of the house. Her mind was on Elena now that she’d seen the condition of her aunt. Where were the girl and her fiance?

  Suddenly Nancy heard a woman’s voice nearby.

  . . . but, Senor, I cannot do more than I have,” the stranger said in Spanish.

  Nancy skidded to a halt and looked around wildly. For a moment she thought of retreating to Rosalinda’s room, but before she could move, there was the click of a door opening just ahead of her.

  Nancy saw an alcove a few steps away and raced to it on her toes, trying not to make a sound as she slipped into the shadowy recess, frantically seeking a hiding place. There was little choice—a small plant stand and a fragile chair were the only pieces of furniture, and neither would conceal her very well.

  “We cannot afford to wait much longer,” a man said. “I have given too much time to this project already, and I must be able to reap the benefits of my hard work.”

  Nancy searched desperately for a way to disappear. Her eyes focused on the huge tapestry that covered the rear wall of the alcove. It hung to the floor and in the half-light, half-shadow of the area, it did offer some hope. She squeezed past the chair and lifted the heavy fabric, trying to slide behind it without pulling it from the wall.

  “She could be permanently damaged if we go too far,” the woman was saying as the two came closer, then seemed to stop directly outside the alcove. “Elena has become suspicious. There was talk before she went back to school.”

  “Do not trouble yourself about that one or her nosy young man; they will not bother us for a while. We must get the old woman’s signature, then we can safely put her in a home and go on with our plans for the future.”

  The man sounded so threatening that Nancy instinctively retreated farther back behind the tapestry, afraid that he might notice the telltale bulge she made in the thick, dusty fabric. As she did, her heel got caught in the ragged fringe at the bottom of the wall hanging.

  Terrified of bringing down her frail hiding place, Nancy reached behind her, digging her fingernails into the wall to keep her balance. Her hands closed over something that stuck out from the smooth wooden surface, and a click echoed in her ear, the next instant, the wall moved, and she tumbled backwards into darkness.

  Rolling herself into a ball, Nancy lay still, sure that she would be discovered. The click

  sounded again, loud and clear in the thick silence.

  “What was that?” the man asked, his voice muffled now.

  “I do not know,” the woman answered. “It came from the alcove.”

  “I hope Rosalinda has not taken to prowling about the house again,” the man grumbled.

  “She is too weak,” the woman assured him. “I have seen to that.”

  “Well, it had to be something.” The man’s voice was ominously close to Nancy.

  She fought an almost irresistible urge to sneeze as the dust swirled around her. Though her eyes were wide open, she could see nothing in the blackness, and she dared not move.

  Suddenly the woman’s laugh filled the air. “It was the cat,” she said. “Maro, you black beast, what are you doing up here? Have you not learned yet that this house is not yours now that your friend Elena is gone?”

  The cat growled.

  “We will get rid of that creature, too, as soon as everything is signed and ready to go, Isabella,” the man said.

  “Si, Senor Cordova. It cannot be too soon for me,” Isabella answered. “I do not enjoy my work any longer.”

  Your work, Nancy thought. I wonder what it all entails.

  The two started to move away, and Nancy let her breath out slowly, her whole body shaking with the tension caused by her close call. She was safe from discovery for the moment, she realized. But where was she?

  She’d stumbled through another secret panel, one hidden by the tapestry. Beyond that, she had no idea whether she’d fallen on a ledge above another stone stairway, or if she was in a level passage. She was almost afraid to move.

  She realized that Senor Cordova was the man who was running the huge estate, but who was Isabella? And what had they done to Rosalinda del Luz?

  Nancy eased herself into a sitting position, exploring the area around her with her fingers as these questions raced through her mind. And what had Cordova meant when he said they didn’t need to worry about Elena and Ricardo? What had he done to them?

  An icy chill ran down the girl’s spine as she realized just how alone she would be without her friends, and she shuddered. What if she was trapped forever in this blackness? What if she couldn’t find a way out?

  9. Hidden Treasure

  Nancy fought back a wave of panic. She couldn’t give in to fear now; she had to escape and find out what had happened to Elena and Ricardo. She also needed to help Rosalinda del Luz and protect her from whatever evil plot Senor Cordova and Isabella were trying to carry out.

  Matches, she thought, suddenly remembering that she’d put them in her pocket before leaving the old wing. It took her only a moment to light one.

  She was in a small, crowded room. A candle stood on a table near the panel she’d tumbled through. She lit it before the match burned her fingers. The glow revealed something that made her heart leap with excitement.

  “Oh!” Nancy suppressed a squeal of joy. The flickering light was reflected by the glass case she had seen in the painting, and the case contained one of the lovely figures, the emerald-eyed cat!

  The girl detective opened the case with shaking hands and lifted the treasure out, surprised by its heavy weight. Her fingers traced the exquisite diamond collar. The gold and gems alone must be worth a fortune, she thought, yet the delicate workmanship makes the piece more valuable still as
an art object.

  “I wonder what happened to your friends, cat,” she murmured, thinking of the unicorn and the rabbit she had seen in the portrait. Then, with a sigh, she replaced the cat in the case and turned her attention to the rest of the room.

  There were a number of boxes and trunks stacked haphazardly around the small table. Nancy checked them quickly, but found nothing similar to the golden cat. There were plenty of old books, papers, some clothing, and photographs, but nothing that offered any answers to what was going on at the troubled hacienda.

  Eager to find Elena and Ricardo, Nancy turned her attention to the panel again. She located the handle that opened it from the inside, and slipped out of the secret room, staying be-

  hind the tapestry until she was sure there was no one nearby. Then she cautiously advanced into the hall.

  She wondered if she should return to Rosalinda’s room and try to talk to her once more, but the woman’s confusion and frailty discouraged her.

  That left Elena and Ricardo. Nancy decided to retreat to the unused part of the house. If they were still free, they would look for her there.

  She tiptoed along the upper hall, pausing frequently to listen and watch for anyone who might be coming. The house seemed empty, and after only a moment of hesitation, she started down the stairs. She’d just reached the bottom when a door across the foyer opened, revealing what appeared to be an office.

  Nancy froze, trapped in the open with nowhere to hide. A stocky, dark-haired man stood in the doorway, his black eyes meeting her startled gaze.

  “Hello, there, young lady, may I help you?” The words were spoken in fluent English and the smile was pleasant, but the voice was that of the man she had overheard outside the alcove! He was Senor Cordova!

  She took a step backward, stumbling on the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” His tone was cold and threatening now.