Nancy gasped as the silhouette of a man played across a distant, smoke-colored mirror. She ducked into the booth, waiting for the stranger to show himself.
Where’s the security guard? Nancy wondered, suddenly aware that the precious designer clothes had been left unprotected. Although chains had been strung through the garments and locked, the girl detective knew that a professional thief wouldn’t be easily discouraged.
Now the mysterious figure hurried across the room to the door, as if he suddenly realized he had left it open by accident. Nancy stuck her head out at the same moment, linking eyes with him!
He had small, even features, and despite the streak of gray in his hair, he looked fairly young. He also wore a tuxedo, causing Nancy to assume that he had attended the fashion show.
“Who are you and what are you doing in here?” she asked boldly.
The intruder responded with a cold, angry stare. He strode past the girl, not saying a word. She decided to postpone her phone call to Chris, and dashed quickly into the dressing room. So far as she could tell, nothing had been disturbed, but before she returned to her table, she reported the incident to the hotel desk.
“Perhaps the man was just an interested admirer,” Aunt Eloise told Nancy when she related the story. “It doesn’t pay to be too suspicious, dear.”
The young detective would have been the first to agree under other circumstances, but she did not argue the point. As it was, she barely could keep her eyes open on the way back to the apartment.
In spite of her exhaustion, however, Nancy tossed restlessly. Who was Jacqueline’s brother and why did the young model imagine he had been kidnapped? The same questions rose in her mind as she awoke the next morning.
Before I do anything, though, I’m going to call Dad, Nancy decided.
She dressed quickly and joined her aunt and the other girls at the breakfast table, where they planned the itinerary for the day, beginning with phone calls home and one to Chris Chavez, who invited them to come to his studio later that morning.
Then, leaving Aunt Eloise, who was to meet Marjorie Tyson at the hotel office, the young detectives headed for Mr. Reese’s. Nancy was not entirely surprised to learn that he wasn’t there.
“He is flying to Palm Beach today,” the receptionist said, “but he left this envelope for you, Miss Drew.”
Nancy opened it immediately, discovering several sketches of the missing gowns, along with other pertinent information.
“When will he be back?” Nancy inquired.
“Tomorrow, perhaps.”
“There are too many disappearing acts around here to suit me,” Bess whispered to George.
“You can say that again,” her cousin replied. “I think—”
“Let’s go,” Nancy interrupted, and turned to leave. “Our next stop is the studio of Chris Chavez!”
On the way, she studied Mr. Reese’s sketches, almost memorizing them, and advised Bess and George to do the same.
“If only one of these gowns turned up in my closet, I’d be thrilled!” Bess said, as their taxi halted in front of a seemingly deserted store. “Is this the studio?”
“Guess so,” Nancy said as they stepped out.
The chill in the air had left a thin layer of frost on the window, so the visitors could not see inside. The door was open, though, and they entered.
“Anybody home?” Nancy called out across the empty foyer.
No one answered.
At the end of the hall was another door and an unshaded lamp shone brightly.
“Somebody must be here,” Bess commented, walking forward. Nancy and George followed.
Suddenly, two voices rose in argument and the hall door slammed shut!
5
The Lion’s Message
Nancy and the cousins listened to the angry voices behind the closed door.
“Ted Henri can take care of himself,” the man, apparently Chris, was saying to someone.
He must be talking about Jacqueline’s brother! Nancy thought, and knocked on the door.
Bess was apprehensive. “Shall we wait for you outside?” she whispered to her friend, not wishing to get caught in the middle of the strangers’ argument.
To her chagrin, however, Nancy shook her head. “I might need your help.”
“But—” Bess mumbled as the voices subsided and the door opened, revealing an unexpected surprise. A young woman stood before them with Chris Chavez, who was looking over her shoulder.
“Jacqueline!” Nancy exclaimed.
“Oh, so you know each other,” Chris interposed.
“We met last evening,” Nancy said, adding pointedly, “When you didn’t come back, Jackie, we were worried.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” the model apologized. “I was so tired that I left the hotel after I took my message.” She paused, turning to Chris. “Nancy is a detective, you know.”
“Yes, I do,” the photographer said. He kept his eyes evenly fixed on Nancy. “I imagine Jackie has told you about her brother.”
“Not really,” Nancy said. “Who is your brother?” the girl detective went on.
“Ted’s a journalist—an investigative reporter,” Jacqueline said, then stopped as if wondering how much to reveal.
“Go ahead,” Chris urged her. “Tell Nancy everything. She may be able to help you.”
The young woman’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t really know where to begin,” she said. “As I told you last night, I believe my brother may have been kidnapped.”
“But you’re not sure,” Nancy said.
“I’m almost sure. It’s not the first time he’s been threatened. In the course of his job, he has exposed numerous undercover schemes and stepped on lots of toes.”
“But what makes you think he was kidnapped?” Nancy questioned.
“For one thing, he was supposed to arrive on a charter flight from Singapore yesterday evening. I got a cable to meet him at Kennedy Airport. That’s why I couldn’t be in the fashion show. Anyway, when I reached the airport, I couldn’t find him.”
“Was he on the passenger list?” Nancy asked.
“As far as I know.”
“Then, are you suggesting he may have been abducted from the airport?”
Jacqueline shook her head. “I don’t know what to think,” she said. “When I went home, I found this in my mailbox.” She dug into her purse and produced a piece of paper.
On it was written a message with some scribbling at the bottom that resembled a lion’s crest. Nancy read the message aloud:
IF YOU DON’T HEAR FROM ME IN A FEW DAYS, CALL THE POLICE. DON’T TRY TO CONTACT ME BEFORE THEN. T.
The girl glanced at Jacqueline. “Is this your brother’s handwriting?”
“I’m not sure. It may be a good imitation. That’s why I’m so afraid he might have been kidnapped.”
“Suppose he did write the note,” Nancy said. “I assume the ‘T’ stands for Ted. But what’s this funny symbol next to it? It looks like the head of a lion.”
“I don’t know,” Jackie said.
“You see,” Chris spoke up, “Ted’s been working on an important expose about a fake operation at an auction house.”
“I don’t think we should talk about that,” Jacqueline interrupted. “I’m sure Ted wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“Why not? If Nancy is to help you, she has to know what’s going on.” The young man paused a moment, then continued. “It seems that some auction house here in Manhattan has sold spurious reproductions of antique jewelry to a number of people, including dealers.”
“But surely they would know the real stuff from the fake,” Nancy commented.
“That’s what makes the case so interesting,” Chris remarked. “Obviously, there must be a very talented artisan involved in the scheme—”
“Or an agile assistant who substitutes the fake items for the real ones after the customers’ bids are in,” Nancy concluded.
“Very astute,” Chris complimented her. “M
aybe you ought to work with Ted.”
“Except that he prefers to work alone,” Jacqueline added.
“As it is,” Nancy smiled pleasantly, “I already have my own mystery to solve.”
The curiosity in the faces of her listeners encouraged the young detective to explain.
“You see, Mr. Reese, the designer, has asked me to help him find a thief.”
“Really?” Jacqueline asked, throwing a quick glance at Chris.
“In fact,” Nancy continued, “several gowns, which you were to have modeled last night, Jackie, disappeared from the hotel.”
“How terrible!” Chris exclaimed. “Do you have any leads yet?”
“Nothing definite,” Nancy said vaguely. She decided not to mention the stranger she had discovered in the dressing room.
“Forgive me for saying this,” Chris went on, “but I think you ought to leave that sort of investigation up to someone with experience.”
“Like Ted Henri?” Nancy replied, her mouth becoming a thin line.
“Nancy has had a lot of experience as a detective,” Bess defended her friend.
“Oh, I’m sure she has,” Chris answered. “It’s just that you never know how tough things might get, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, or you, for that matter.”
“Well, nothing has so far,” George spoke up.
“Even so,” Jacqueline commented, “Chris is right.”
“And to think we were going to offer to look for your brother—undercover, of course,” Nancy said quickly.
“We were?” George raised her eyes with uncertainty.
Jacqueline looked at Chris with an urgent, almost pleading expression and fidgeted with the handle of her bag.
“What do you think?” the model asked him.
“It’s up to you,” he sighed.
“We wouldn’t do anything to mess up Ted’s investigation,” Bess put in.
“I imagine he’s trying to gather as much evidence as he can against the auction house,” Nancy said. “I’m sure he doesn’t want police interference, so we’d have to keep a low profile.”
“It’s a good idea, isn’t it, Chris?” Jacqueline pressed.
“Yes, so long as these young ladies think they’re able to handle it,” the photographer replied. “Tell me, Nancy, how do you plan to start your search for Ted?”
Nancy was thoughtful for a moment, then smiled. “Well, first we have to find the lion’s crest!”
6
Medallion Mystery
“I wonder what the lion’s crest means,” Bess said, pondering Ted Henri’s message.
Nancy was thinking about the variety of architecture she had seen throughout the city, especially the pair of stone lions that flanked the entrance to the New York Public Library. Was it possible that a lion’s crest existed somewhere on a building where Ted might be hiding out?
“How about the auction houses?” George put in. “Do any of them have a lion’s crest on the canopy?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Chris said, “but it’s possible.”
As he spoke, Bess picked up a thick telephone directory and began to scan the classified section.
“Look at all the auction houses!” she exclaimed in discouragement. “There must be a hundred of them!”
“Not quite that many,” Nancy said, snatching a glance at the list.
“Even so,” George said, “it will take more than a few days to visit all of them.”
Nancy noticed a newspaper lying on a desk. “Chris, may I look at that?” she asked.
“Of course,” he replied, sensing what was on her mind. “Maybe you’ll find something under ‘galleries.’ I was just about to suggest it myself.”
Nancy quickly located the page filled with announcements about various auctions. One in particular drew her attention.
“There’s an interesting sale scheduled tonight at Speers, Limited,” she pointed out, adding that among the items being auctioned off were heraldic shields and medallions. “Maybe we’ll find something bearing a lion’s crest among them!”
“And perhaps Ted!” Jacqueline added excitedly.
“It’s a shame we missed the preview exhibition,” Nancy said. “That was this morning. But if we try, we can make the auction at 8 P.M.”
“By the way,” George said to Jacqueline, “what does your brother look like? In case he happens to be there, we’d like to tell you.”
“Oh, well, he’s taller than I am and he has dark wavy hair and hazel eyes. His face is rounder than mine. It’s ruddier, too.”
“Do you have a picture of him?” Bess asked.
“No, unfortunately—only a childhood photograph, and I assure you we both have changed a lot since then.” The model laughed, tossing back her mane of hair, letting the lamplight pick up highlights.
Before the girls left, Bess whispered to Jackie out of earshot of her friends and then jotted something on a piece of paper.
“What’s up?” George asked her cousin when they stood on the sidewalk again.
“You’ll see,” Bess replied, mysteriously. “I have to run now. See you back at the apartment. ‘Bye.”
Like a bolt of lightning, she flashed down the street and disappeared into a taxi that had stopped to let off a passenger.
Nancy and George gaped at each other, breaking into giggles as they realized that Bess’s admiration for the glamorous model was probably at the root of her latest adventure. The afternoon passed quickly at Aunt Eloise’s and when the doorbell finally rang, Nancy and George ran to answer the door together!
“Bess, is that you?” Nancy asked, gaping at her friend, while George put a hand over her mouth, biting her lips to keep from laughing out loud.
Bess looked hurt. “What do you think? Of course, it’s me!”
She had obviously gone to a hair and makeup artist who had changed everything except the color of her eyes. Her hair was swept upward in small fine ringlets, a few of which dangled over her ears and around the base of her neck.
“Well?” Bess said, noting that her friends had fallen into total silence.
“The hair isn’t bad,” George said, “but those eyes! Wow!”
Nancy, too, was spellbound by the transformation. False eyelashes, curled thickly over Bess’s own, appeared to be half an inch long! One had loosened and Bess had carelessly stuck it back above the lid, making her look like a Paul Klee painting.
“Did Jacqueline recommend this?” Nancy inquired.
“Not this. Him,” Bess said. “He’s a wonderful hair stylist and makeup man. All the models go to him.”
She marched to a mirror in the living room, quickly observing the lopsided eyelash. Embarrassed, she hurried to adjust it, but it drooped down over the lower lid and came loose, leaving her with one set on and the other off.
George roared as Bess turned around. She grimaced angrily at her cousin.
“You’re just jealous!” Bess charged.
“Jealous!” George laughed, and grabbed her camera which she had left on a small table in the foyer. “I can’t miss this one. Dave will love it!”
“Don’t you dare!” Bess cried, tearing off the other set of lashes.
But it was too late. Her cousin had already snapped a picture. “Here she is, folks. The new model of the year!” George said gleefully, taking the finished print out of the camera.
All through supper neither of the cousins spoke to each other, which made Nancy and her aunt feel uncomfortable.
“I like your hair, dear,” Aunt Eloise complimented Bess, causing her to smile briefly.
“Thank you very much,” she said. “Please pass the salt, Nancy.”
That was the extent of Bess’s conversation until they reached the auction house of Speers, Limited. They noticed that most of the audience were holding catalogs, and Nancy hurried to a desk to purchase one.
“Ooh, there are some gorgeous things in that book!” Bess said to the others, after glancing at someone else’s brochure.
&n
bsp; Nancy quickly leafed through hers, pausing now and then to look at stunning color photographs of Old English silver and Oriental porcelain.
“Go back a few pages,” George said shortly.
Nancy did so and, to her amazement, discovered the entry of a medallion that bore the head of a lion! It had belonged to a man named Galen Kaiser.
Was this what Ted Henri was referring to in the mysterious message he sent to his sister?
The girl detectives were careful not to discuss their find openly. Instead, they scanned the audience, looking for someone who matched Ted’s description. A couple of men came close to it, but one had a bulbous nose and the other a ring of pock marks under his eyes. Jackie had not mentioned either of those characteristics.
Then the auction started and the girls’ attention was drawn to a number of fine gold tea-cups. They were displayed on a velvet table that swung into view on a moving platform.
“Shall we bid?” George asked teasingly as the auctioneer called out successive bids.
“I have five hundred dollars. Do I hear more?” he said.
“Well, I’m not really looking for gold tea-cups,” Nancy responded lightly.
One after the other, items from the estates of several wealthy people passed in and out of sight. Nancy and the cousins eagerly awaited the medallion.
“Here it comes!” Bess murmured as it appeared on the table, glittering under the spotlight.
From where the young detectives sat, they could not see it fully. Then, the auctioneer covered the microphone with his hand and turned sideways to speak to his assistant, completely obscuring the table from the girls’ view. When he addressed the audience again, the young detectives were surprised to see that the medallion was gone. A small gold dish with a stand-up rim stood in its place!
“Do you suppose the medallion was stolen?” Bess whispered to her friends, who did not reply.
The auctioneer soon announced that the order of entries had been changed and the medallion would go up for bid shortly.
“Maybe somebody is switching the real one for a fake,” Bess continued.
“That would be too obvious,” George declared.
Carolyn Keene - Nancy Drew Page 3