“What’s that?”
“You must solve at least one mystery.”
Nancy laughed merrily, then asked Susan and Cliff how plans were coming for Garden Week.
“Everything is about ready,” Cliff answered. “But the committee is disappointed that the owner of Cumberland Manor still refuses to open it to the public.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t have better luck on the first try,” said Nancy. “But perhaps I can think of another approach.”
As the girls entered the front hall of the house, Nancy noticed that a letter addressed to her was lying on a mahogany table. It was from Hannah Gruen.
Nancy read it and frowned. Mrs. Dondo was trying to make trouble again! 1 The woman had been telling people in River Heights that Nancy had left town to avoid paying the hundred dollars that had been lost in the mail. Suddenly Nancy smiled as she read further.
“But don’t worry, Nancy. Your father is taking care of things. He went over to her house and talked to her sternly. Mrs. Dondo actually began to tremble and said she would not say anything more against you.”
Nancy told Bess and George what the letter said.
“Well good for your dad!” said Bess. “That woman needs to be put in her place.”
George spoke up. “But I’m afraid she won’t keep her promise. Nancy, you’d better watch out!”
The girls continued to discuss the unpleasant woman and her brother. When they joined Susan and Cliff on the patio just before dusk, Nancy asked them if they had ever heard of Alonzo Rugby.
Both of them shook their heads, and Cliff looked in the telephone directory. The name was not listed.
“He’s an artist,” Nancy explained.
“In that case,” Cliff said, “the head of the university art department might help us. I’ll call him.”
He went inside to phone. When he returned, Cliff reported that Alonzo Rugby was not known to the department head.
“That’s strange,” Nancy remarked. “We were told that he’s a talented artist.” She related the story Mrs. Dondo had told about her brother, who was supposed to live in Charlottesville.
Obligingly Cliff telephoned an art dealer in town; then Susan called a woman artist in the area. Neither of them had ever heard of Alonzo Rugby.
“Oh, let’s forget him,” Bess suggested, “and enjoy this heavenly evening.”
Nancy did not reply. She knew she could not forget the man. The young detective had a strong hunch that he had been responsible for the fake telegram to her. His only reason for sending it must have been to keep her out of the area. But why?
“If he’s ‘good for nothing,’ as his brother-in-law says,” Nancy thought, “he may be involved in some underhanded scheme. But where do I fit in?”
Just then, melodic chimes sounded from inside the house. Anna always rang to announce dinner. The group rose and went inside.
The colonial dining room of Seven Oaks was charming. A crystal chandelier highlighted the handsome mahogany furniture, as well as the exquisite silver candelabra and crystal tumblers on the table.
Clifford said grace, then Anna brought in a heavy silver tureen of soup that she set before Susan. Next, she brought in lovely old china soup plates. She passed them, one by one, after Susan had served the portions.
When the maid left the room, Susan smiled and whispered to the girls, “I try to make things easier for Anna, but she insists on working and serving everything the old-fashioned way. I must confess, though, that I love it.”
Cliff’s eyes twinkled. “Anna’s a rare person,” he said. “She sort of lives in the past, and is very much like her mother, who worked for my mother. She imitates her in everything.”
After the soup course, Anna brought in a tray of squabs and remarked to the visitors, “I hope you all like my birds.”
The “birds” proved to be delicious, as were the sweet potatoes, corn pudding, and piping-hot biscuits served with them.
Bess said happily, “Don’t anybody remind me I’m on a diet!”
Twenty minutes later Anna removed the dishes and carried in individual servings of strawberry shortcake. She had brought in all but Cliff’s and was just returning from the pantry with it, when suddenly she shrieked. The dessert slipped from her hand and fell upside down on the floor.
“Good heavens!” she cried out, wringing her hands.
Those at the table stared at the woman in amazement. Anna pointed toward an open side window. “A man with eyes of the devil was looking in here. He was trying to cast a spell on all of us!”
Everyone jumped up and hurried out to the garden in back of the house. It was too dark to see much, but they could hear running footsteps in the distance.
“I suppose it would be hopeless to try to catch the fellow,” Cliff remarked.
Nancy said nothing. She was thinking. Perhaps she could pick up a clue to the man’s identity. Returning to the house, she hurried to her room and took a flashlight from her suitcase.
By this time the others had come indoors. Susan was trying to assure Anna, who was on the verge of hysterics, that the man had probably meant no harm.
Nancy, meanwhile, had spotted the man’s footprints under the window. They led alongside one of the garden paths. About a hundred feet from the house she saw a small metal tube and picked it up. She read:BLACK
(oxide of iron)
“An artist dropped this!” she surmised. Instantly she thought of Mark Bradshaw, then to Alonzo Rugby. “I must tell Bess and George!”
Nancy turned to go back. At the same moment something hard hit her squarely between the shoulders. She fell forward and lost consciousness!
CHAPTER VII
Jigsaw in Glass
INSIDE the house Bess, George, and the Cans were talking excitedly about the man who had peered in the window. When Anna described his face, Susan was sure he was the masked man who had caused her first automobile accident.
“I’ll call the police,” Cliff said, and went to the phone.
Dessert had been forgotten, but suddenly Anna reminded the diners they had not touched their strawberry shortcake.
“I’ll fix another helping for Mr. Cliff right away,” she said. “You all go back to the dining room.”
It was not until they returned to their places at the table that the group realized Nancy had not joined them.
“That’s odd,” said George. “I saw her come into the house.”
She went to the foot of the stairs and called to the second floor. There was no answer. Worried, George went up and looked around. Coming down, she remarked, “Nancy must have gone outdoors again to do some sleuthing.”
“Oh dear,” said Susan, “I hope nothing has happened to her!”
Cliff hurried for a flashlight, and the group went outside. He cast the light around and soon spotted the man’s footprints. Figuring that Nancy had trailed him, the others followed the marks and soon found the girl’s limp body.
“Oh, Nancy!” Bess cried out, terrified. She fell to her knees beside her stricken friend.
To Bess’s relief, Nancy opened her eyes. She blinked in the glare of the flashlight and mumbled. “Where is the—the—paint tube?”
The onlookers glanced at one another. Was Nancy delirious? But a second later her mind cleared and she sat up.
“Something hit me in the back. I fell forward, hit my head, and blacked out,” she said, looking around. Pointing to a large stone, she added, “I guess someone threw that at me.”
“How awful!” Susan exclaimed. Then she told Nancy of her suspicion that the man was the one who had shoved her car off the road.
“I think he was an artist,” Nancy said. She told them about the black paint tube. “He apparently knocked me out to take it away from me without being seen. Anyhow, it’s gone.”
The Carrs helped Nancy to her feet and they all went into the house. Nancy was immediately put to bed. Not only the police but the Carrs’ physician, whom Susan had summoned, arrived in a few minutes.
&n
bsp; Dr. Tillett, solicitous and efficient, examined Nancy and announced that she had no serious injuries. He predicted that her back would feel sore for several days, but it would not be necessary for her to stay in bed.
“Just take it easy tomorrow,” he advised.
Nancy did not see the police. Cliff had felt it was not necessary and the officers had agreed. But later, when she was alone with Bess and George, the young sleuth remarked, “The tube of paint was a good clue.”
“You suspect that Bradshaw or Rugby dropped it?” George asked.
“Yes, I do.”
Nancy said that the next morning she would make a paper model of one or two of the footprints. “Then I’ll visit Waverly as soon as I can to see if Bradshaw’s shoe fits the print.”
“Good idea,” said George, “but it won’t be easy to do.”
“I know,” said Nancy, yawning wearily, “but I’m going to try it.”
The following morning Bess and George helped her make the paper footprint. Luckily the ground was hard enough to permit this. Because of the Carrs’ friendship with Bradshaw, the girls did not tell Susan or Cliff what they had in mind.
At luncheon Susan said, “I have an idea. This afternoon we might visit some of the old estates around here. How would you like to see Thomas Jefferson’s and James Monroe’s homes?’
“Oh, we’d love it!” Bess replied for all the girls.
“And if we have time,” Susan went on, “we’ll visit some other interesting old places. As we go along, Nancy, you might inquire about the missing stained-glass window.”
Nancy was thrilled to make the trip, and the sightseers set off at once. As they drove along, Susan reminded the others that Thomas Jefferson, the third president of the United States, had served as American minister to France. While there he had become interested in Roman architecture after viewing famous ruins. When he returned to Virginia, he designed his home, Monticello, in that style.
“And he was an inventor, too,” Susan remarked.
After leaving the car in the visitors’ parking lot, the girls walked up to the stately mansion, which stood on a knoll overlooking the rolling Virginia hills. Finally, turning reluctantly away from the lovely view, they went inside the house. There, they admired the beautifully proportioned rooms and the many inventions and conveniences Jefferson had installed in his home.
One arrangement, in particular, attracted the girls. This was a bed set in a space between two rooms so that Mr. Jefferson could get out on either side, depending on whether he wanted to be in his dressing room or in his study. During the day the bed could be drawn into the ceiling to allow free circulation of air between the two rooms.
“That’s for me!” Bess exclaimed. “You’d never get out on the wrong side of the bed.”
“Let’s go on now to James Monroe’s home,” Susan suggested. “You’ll find it more simple, but the gardens have the most beautiful boxwood you’ve ever seen.”
Back in the car again, they drove up the winding mountain road until they came to Ash Lawn. James Monroe, the fifth president of the United States, had built it here to be near his friend Thomas Jefferson.
Susan told them that Ash Lawn was smaller and more informal. A path lined with beautiful boxwood hedges led up to the door. Inside, a mirror hanging on the opposite wall reflected the path, making it appear extremely long.
After leaving Ash Lawn, Susan took the girls to three other estates. At each one Nancy inquired whether the owner had heard of any medieval stained-glass windows in the area that had a peacock in the design. In each case the answer was no.
“I guess we’ll have to give up for today,” said Susan, glancing at the car clock. “It’s getting late.”
The girls agreed and they started home. Susan had driven only two miles when she exclaimed, “Why didn’t I think of this before!”
“Think of what?” Nancy asked.
“The Dowds. They live around the next bend. They have a perfectly fascinating home, and Mrs. Dowd knows about everything in the neighborhood. If that window is in any home around the Charlottesville area, she’ll know it!”
“Then let’s talk to her!” Nancy urged.
Susan turned into the winding driveway of the Dowd place and pulled up in front of an austere, white-painted brick mansion. Fortunately Mrs. Dowd was at home. She greeted Susan effusively.
“And bless you, dear, you’ve brought some very attractive friends,” she said. Susan introduced them.
Mrs. Dowd, fiftyish, was a great talker and the girls did not have a chance to say anything. She expressed her delight at meeting the visitors from River Heights and instantly mentioned two people she knew there. Mrs. Dowd bubbled along in the one-sided conversation until Susan finally interrupted diplomatically.
“Nancy would like to ask you some questions,” she requested.
“Yes, dear, go ahead,” said Mrs. Dowd. “What is it you want to know?”
Nancy quickly told her, and to the girl’s elation Mrs. Dowd said, “Well, I declare! Now maybe I can lead you all right to that reward.”
Her eyes glistened. “You know, up in our attic, piled in one corner, are parts of a stained-glass window. It was hanging up once. I admit to being a right lazy individual when it comes to working out puzzles, so I’ve never tried putting the old thing together.”
She rose and invited her guests to follow her to the attic. All the way up to the third floor she kept apologizing about the dust and cobwebs that they would probably find, because it was so difficult to get help these days.
“As for myself,” said Mrs. Dowd, “I never go near the place!”
Fortunately, there were bright lights in the attic and a large cleared space in the center. The girls brought the glass sections to this spot and got down on their hands and knees to try figuring out how the pieces would fit to make a picture. Mrs. Dowd became so excited that she helped them.
“This is a jigsaw puzzle on a large scale,” George remarked.
“And just about as hard,” Bess added.
By the end of an hour a large section of the window had been put together. Though the picture was not complete, it was evident that the stained-glass window did not portray a knight riding a white horse and carrying a shield with a peacock design.
Finally Nancy stood up. “Mrs. Dowd,” she said, “you’ve been a wonderful sport, letting us raid your attic and work on this. Unfortunately, this is not the window we’re looking for. Would you like us to put the pieces back where they were?”
“Oh no indeed,” said Mrs. Dowd. “I declare I’m going to finish this if it takes me a year! I’ve always been curious to know what this little old window was. I’ll get my husband to help me finish putting the pieces together.”
The girls then followed Mrs. Dowd down the stairs. As they said good-by to her, she wished them luck in finding the right window.
The road to Susan’s home led directly past the Bradshaw farm. Nancy, who had put the paper model of the footprint in her purse, said, “Susan, if it’s not too near dinner time, let’s call on Mr. Bradshaw. I’d like to ask him a couple of questions.”
“All right.” Susan turned in at Waverly, saying, “You know I’ve been in the Bradshaw home several times, but I’ve never visited the studio. It will be interesting to see it.”
As before, the door stood open and Mr. Bradshaw came to greet his visitors. “Susan!” he cried out in delight. “I’m so glad to see you and your friends.”
The callers stepped out of the car and walked into the studio. A man of about forty was standing by the bench under which Nancy had found the copy of Continental. He was short, dark, and had very bright small eyes.
Mr. Bradshaw waved toward the stranger and said to his callers, “I’d like to present my new assistant. He has been with me a week. This is Mr. Alonzo Rugby.”
CHAPTER VIII
An Angry Suspect
BESS was so startled to hear the name of the man the girls were searching for that she gasped and stepped b
ack. Alonzo Rugby’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he came forward to acknowledge the introduction. Mr. Bradshaw looked at Susan and the girls, waiting for an explanation before giving their names to his assistant.
“I—I’m dreadfully sorry,” said Bess, recovering. She giggled. “I’ve heard Mr. Rugby is a famous artist. I was impressed to think I was actually meeting him.”
Mr. Bradshaw raised his eyebrows but did not comment. He introduced the girls to Rugby.
“I’m happy to meet you,” the assistant said. “I don’t know where you heard about my being a great artist. The person must have me mixed up with Mr. Bradshaw. He’s a great artist. I’m merely a pupil.
Nancy was pleased that at last she had found Mrs. Dondo’s brother. She thought, “The first thing I must do is try to find out if his shoes fit my paper pattern.”
Nancy noticed that Rugby had taken off his street shoes and put on soft slippers. If she could only find some way to compare the size and shape of his shoes, as well as those of Mr. Bradshaw’s, with her paper patterns!
The young sleuth decided that the best way to accomplish this and to watch both men would be to visit the studio as often as possible. As an idea came to her, she said aloud, “Mr. Bradshaw, I’m terribly intrigued by stained-glass window-making. I was wondering if you would mind giving me a few lessons while I’m visiting my cousin?”
The artist looked surprised and did not reply at once. Alonzo Rugby, however, said bluntly, “Mr. Bradshaw is not only a great artist but a very busy man, Miss Drew.”
Nancy was fearful that Mr. Bradshaw, backed by his assistant, might refuse her request.
But Susan Carr came to her rescue. Smiling at Mr. Bradshaw, she coaxed, “Oh, Nancy is not a beginner. She has attended art school.”
If Mr. Bradshaw had been wavering in his decision, he was persuaded by this remark. “All right,” he said. “I’ll be happy to give you a few lessons. Suppose you come tomorrow morning.”
The Hidden Window Mystery Page 4