The Whispering Statue Page 4

  The girls rushed from the room and downstairs. The manager was not around, so Nancy asked the desk clerk, Mr. Carter, if he knew about it.

  “No,” he said, “but I can’t believe those three men would try to steal the statue in broad daylight.”

  He requested his assistant to take over and hurried outdoors with the girls. Mr. Carter asked the men why they were moving the piece.

  “We got orders to cart it away for cleaning,” one of them replied, and the men went on with their work.

  “Who at the club gave you permission to take it?” Nancy inquired.

  “Nobody. Here’s our orders.” The mover took an order form from his pocket. It contained no firm’s name and neither did the truck, so Nancy asked what company the men worked for.

  The man who seemed to be in charge did not reply. He became surly and said, “I don’t have to answer questions. Come on, boys. Let’s get going.”

  Mr. Carter’s eyes blazed. “Leave that statue alone! You’ll have to show better identification before you move it.”

  One of the other men spoke up. “Come on, AI. We don’t want no trouble.”

  Apparently Al thought so too and the three men went off in their truck.

  Mr. Carter turned to Nancy. “Miss Lynbrook,” he said, “I believe you girls stopped a robbery just in time.”

  His statement was confirmed a few minutes later when Mr. Ayer joined them. After being told what had happened, he said, “The club didn’t order the statue cleaned. Those men were fakes! I shall have it cemented down to avoid further trouble.”

  The girls looked at one another. Who wanted the figure removed and why? As they walked into the clubhouse, George asked what the program for the day would be. “I hope it’ll be exciting.”

  “I think,” Nancy replied, “that until I can contact Dad—he’s out of town—we’d better concentrate on the other mystery.”

  “You mean Mr. Basswood?” Bess asked.

  “Yes.” Nancy suggested that the girls visit his art gallery and bookshop.

  “All right,” Bess agreed. “But you know I couldn’t afford to buy anything in the place. What excuse would we have for going in?”

  George looked at her cousin a bit scornfully. “When you shop for a dress, do you take the first one you see in the first shop?”

  Bess winced. As a shopper, she had the reputation of finding it difficult to make up her mind about any purchase.

  Nancy laughed. “You girls will be surprised at what I’m going to ask Mr. Basswood.”

  “What is it?” Bess queried.

  Nancy shook her head teasingly. “I want you to be surprised. We’d better hurry. He may close for an early lunch.”

  The Basswood Art and Bookshop was very at tractive. Statuary and porcelain displayed in the windows were exquisite. Nancy opened the door and the trio walked in. They were in a small hallway with rooms opening off either side and a passageway at the rear. Before they had a chance to notice anything else, they were confronted by a tall slender man. Deep creases in his forehead were an indication that he scowled a great deal.

  “Good morning,” he said in a crisp voice. “Will you please register in this book.” He pointed to an open guest book. “Your names and home addresses.”

  The girls were taken aback. This was the last thing in the world they wanted to do! Bess and George looked to Nancy for an answer.

  Nancy appeared nonchalant. She said with a smile. “Oh, we won’t need any catalogs.”

  The man did not smile back. “It is a rule of Mr. Basswood. I am Mr. Atkin, his assistant.”

  He picked up the pen and handed it to Bess. Nancy gave a slight go-ahead nod and Bess signed her name and River Heights address.

  George was next. As she gave the pen to Nancy, she fervently hoped that the young detective would not forget she was using an alias. To her delight Nancy put down Debbie Lynbrook, River Heights.

  Mr. Atkin glanced at the signatures, then lifted his eyebrows. “You’re all from River Heights?” he asked. “Do you know a Miss Nancy Drew who lives there?”

  The girls managed to show no surprise and George replied quickly, “I guess everybody in town knows Nancy Drew. Are you acquainted with her?”

  The girls were curious when he answered, “Not personally, but a client of mine from River Heights has spoken of her.”

  “Oh really?” Bess remarked. “I wonder if we know this person. Would you mind telling us who it is?”

  “Mrs. Worth. Are you acquainted with her?”

  “Not really,” Bess answered. “But we know of her.”

  The girls did indeed know of Mrs. Worth. She was wealthy, overbearing, and a great gossip. She had, no doubt, followed Nancy’s exploits as an amateur detective.

  At that moment a slender dark-haired man with long sideburns came from a room off the hallway marked Office. The assistant introduced him as Mr. Basswood.

  As the shop owner asked graciously if he could help the girls, Nancy found it hard to believe that he was deliberately cheating Mrs. Merriam.

  In her disguised voice, Debbie Lynbrook asked, “May we look around? You have so many beautiful things here it will be hard to decide what to buy.”

  The two men followed the girls closely as they wandered about, exclaiming over beautiful porcelain objects and fine old paintings. Nancy was fascinated by the lovely statuettes, but when she picked one up and looked at the price, she was astonished.

  “I’d have to be very wealthy to buy it!” she said to herself.

  Mr. Atkin had gone to the front door and was requesting a stout woman to sign the register. After doing so, the customer went directly to the rare books section. Nancy herself was looking over the collection. The customer paid no attention to Mr. Basswood and instead addressed herself to Nancy.

  “I can’t decide between this green leather volume and the red-and-gold one.”

  Nancy wondered if the woman was buying the volume for the cover or the contents. She asked, “Do you like poetry?”

  The stout woman giggled. “Only if it’s about love.”

  Nancy examined the two books. The red- and gold-covered volume was in Old English dialect. She was sure the woman would not be able to read it. The green volume, she discovered, did have some love poems.

  “I think you’d like this one,” she said, handing it over.

  “Very well. I’ll buy it. Would you mind wrapping it for me?”

  Nancy smiled. “I think Mr. Basswood will want to do that.” She beckoned him to come forward.

  He was just in time to hear the stout woman say, “Oh, salesmen make me nervous. I much prefer women clerks.” Nevertheless, the customer trotted off after Mr. Basswood.

  Nancy continued to examine the rare volumes. She hoped one of them might contain the name Merriam written inside but none did.

  Suddenly a male voice said, “Can you help me? I’m looking for a small painting to give my wife for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.”

  Nancy caught Mr. Basswood looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Apparently he wondered what she would say. She decided to take a chance on making the sale for him.

  “How about that one on the wall over there?” she suggested. “It’s a cheerful scene of the Mediterranean and has a beautiful silver frame.”

  “You’re absolutely right. I like your taste.” He walked over, looked at the price, and said he would buy it.

  Nancy directed him to Mr. Basswood. Bess and George, having overheard everything, were amused. They told Nancy they had found nothing they could afford.

  Bess asked, “Are you ready to go?”

  “In a minute. I want to speak to Mr. Basswood.” When he came up to the girls, Nancy said, “Mr. Basswood, I’m staying at the yacht club. It’s rather expensive. I’d love to earn money toward my bill. Could you possibly give me a job here?”

  CHAPTER VII

  Four Spies

  FOR a moment Mr. Basswood stared in amazement at Nancy. Then his look of surprise vanished
and he asked, “Where have you worked before?”

  “Oh no place. But I go to art school and I do know a good bit about paintings.”

  “And how about statuary?” the shop owner asked.

  “Very little,” Nancy admitted. “But if you have a catalog, I could study it.”

  Mr. Atkin had walked up. He had overheard the conversation and now looked even more unpleasant than he had before. He said nothing, however.

  Mr. Basswood asked Nancy, “What do you know about rare books?”

  “Not much,” she said, then gave him a broad smile. “But I did manage to sell a book and a painting.”

  “Yes, you did,” Mr. Basswood admitted. “Furthermore, I’ve been thinking about what the stout lady said—that salesmen make her nervous. She prefers women clerks.”

  “I’m sure I could do the job,” Nancy told him.

  The shop owner thought over the proposition for a full fifteen seconds, then said, “All right, I’ll give you a chance. But remember, I’m not making any promise to keep you, and I’ll pay you only the minimum wage rate.”

  Nancy was fearful that he might ask her for a social security number or other type of identification but he said nothing about it and she bubbled eagerly, “How soon may I start?”

  “You may come in tomorrow,” Mr. Basswood replied. “Your hours will be from ten to twelve and two to four.”

  “Oh thank you! Thanks very much,” said Nancy and the girls hurried off.

  It was not until they were two blocks away from the art shop that the three friends burst into laughter.

  George remarked, “Debbie Lynbrook, you certainly put that one over. You’d better be a good salesgirl if you hope to stay at the shop and do any sleuthing.”

  Bess suddenly sobered. “At first I thought all this was funny, but now I’m afraid you’re headed for trouble.”

  “I hope not,” the young detective replied. “But it’s my only chance to find out what’s happening to Mrs. Merriam’s rare book collection.”

  As the girls strolled along, George said, “Will you excuse me for a little while? I have an errand to do. I’ll meet you two at the nice soda shop over on that corner.”

  She went down a side street and Bess said, “I wonder what she’s coming up with now.”

  Nancy and Bess went into the sweetshop to idle away the time. They purchased magazines, a newspaper, and salted peanuts. Then they sat down at the counter to order lunch.

  George came in. She said nothing about her errand and Nancy and Bess were a bit curious, because George was not usually secretive. She ordered a soda and a sandwich. As soon as the girls had finished, they headed for the bus station where they had been told there was usually a taxi.

  It was not until the three were seated in the taxi that George divulged where she had gone. She took a small package from her purse and put it into Nancy’s lap.

  “This should help you keep your disguise,” she whispered.

  Curious, Nancy opened the package. Inside was a stack of calling cards on which had been printed “Miss Debbie Lynbrook.”

  “How clever!” Nancy said. “Indeed they will be a big help.” Her eyes twinkled. “Tomorrow morning I shall leave one on the table near Mr. Basswood’s office.”

  When the girls reached the yacht club, Bess found a note in her mailbox saying she was to telephone her home at once. She went off to make the call but returned in a few minutes.

  “Is everything all right?” George asked her.

  Bess replied that she was not sure. “Mother said that Mrs. Gruen phoned and asked her to get this message to Nancy. Some man who refused to give his name called your house several times demanding to talk to you or be told where to find you. Hannah decided not to call you direct.”

  “He wouldn’t give his name?” George asked.

  “No, and this worried Hannah. She requested him to give her a number that Nancy could call but he refused.”

  Bess said the man had been so persistent that Hannah finally had become angry and told him if he would not give his name he should never call again.

  “Oh, Nancy, I’m worried too,” Bess added. “Your enemies are determined to find you.”

  Nancy was silent for several seconds, then she smiled slightly. “Do you realize, girls, that this means they don’t know where I am, or that I’m Debbie Lynbrook?”

  Hearing this, Bess and George relaxed, but advised Nancy to be on the alert for trouble.

  “Especially while you’re at work,” George added.

  That evening Nancy telephoned her father. He was amazed to hear about the discovery of the statue and said he would have an expert from New York City examine it.

  “It will be interesting to find out whether or not your suspicions about it are correct,” the lawyer said.

  Nancy then told her father of her job at Basswood’s Art and Bookshop. He laughed and wished her luck. But he warned her not to take any chances on the owner discovering she was Nancy Drew.

  His daughter chuckled. “Debbie will do her best.”

  The following morning Bess and George wished the young detective luck. They promised to drop into the shop later to see how she was getting along.

  “Let’s have lunch in town,” Nancy suggested. “I have two hours off.”

  During the morning Nancy made three very good sales and Mr. Basswood seemed pleased. His assistant, who never changed his expression, kept a sharp eye on her. She began to wonder whether perhaps it was Mr. Atkin and not Mr. Basswood who might be guilty of falsifying Mrs. Merriam’s account.

  About eleven o’clock a young man came in, signed the register, and went straight to the book section. Nancy was waiting on a woman interested in paintings and for a few minutes no one was in the book department. While Nancy’s customer was trying to make up her mind about an old English landscape, the girl detective saw the young man slip a book into his pocket.

  “He means to steal it!” she told herself. “And that’s a rare volume!”

  Excusing herself to the woman, Nancy hurried to the entrance hall where Mr. Atkin was standing. She whispered her suspicions to him, but he told her he could do nothing.

  “If you’re wrong, Mr. Basswood could be sued.” He turned away.

  Nancy was not satisfied. She decided to do something else. She walked casually to the register to get the name of the young man and found it was Sam Payne. She wrote on the card:I saw Mr. Sam Payne put an early edition of Browning’s poems into his pocket.

  She looked around for Mr. Basswood but he was not in sight, so she went back to her customer.

  “I know I’m taking a long time,” the woman said. “But after all, when one spends this much money, one should be absolutely sure.”

  Just then the front door opened and to Nancy’s delight she saw a police officer come in. She hurried over to him and put the card into his hand. She whispered, “Mr. Atkin won’t do anything about it.”

  The police officer walked toward Mr. Payne. Upon seeing him, the young man made a beeline for the front door. He opened it and hurried outside. The officer followed.

  Mr. Payne did not get far. The policeman stopped him and said something which Nancy, who was standing in the doorway, did not hear. Mr. Atkin was also watching the scene.

  The young man pulled the stolen volume from his pocket and handed it to the policeman. “I was only holding it until I made up my mind.”

  Nancy doubted that this was true and wondered what was going through Mr. Atkin’s mind. He made no comment when the policeman handed the book to him.

  The frozen expression on Mr. Atkin’s face remained as the officer said, “You can thank this young lady for retrieving that rare volume for you. Do you want to prefer a charge against this man?”

  “Mr. Basswood will have to do that,” Atkin replied.

  He made no further comment and marched back to the shelf to return the book to its place. The officer looked amazed but merely shrugged and shook his head. He gave Nancy a big smile as he went off w
ith the suspect. She returned to her customer and sold a painting.

  At lunch Nancy told Bess and George what had happened. The cousins exchanged glances and Bess said, “I was so worried about you I asked that policeman to drop in.”

  “Good thing you did,” said Nancy.

  During the afternoon she made several sales to summer visitors in Waterford. To her chagrin Mr. Basswood told her at four o‘clock that she was not to report for work the following morning. But she was relieved when he added that she should come at two o’clock.

  In talking this over later with the girls, Nancy remarked, “I think something fishy will be going on at the shop tomorrow morning. Let’s get Dick and go down there this evening. Maybe we can spy on the place and learn something.”

  Dick was delighted with the idea and drove the girls downtown in his small car. Nancy had decided to take him into her confidence, without revealing her identity, and said that certain things happening at the shop made her wonder if the business was being carried on honestly.

  The good-looking young man grinned. “I’ve never tried solving a mystery, but it sounds like fun!”

  He parked the car some distance from the shop and suggested they approach Basswood’s from the rear along a driveway.

  As they neared the building, Bess whispered, “I see a light in the basement window.”

  The young people tiptoed forward. They could hear men talking. As they drew closer, Nancy recognized the voices as those of Mr. Basswood and Mr. Atkin.

  Reaching the lighted window, the four spies found it wide open. They could see the two men clearly. They were packing books in cartons. Dick hunkered down and stared intently at the scene below.

  Mr. Atkin spoke up. “It’s a good thing you’re getting the rest of this Merriam collection out of here. I don’t trust that Lynbrook girl!”

  The remark made Bess shiver. She was sure Nancy would be in danger if she went back to work at the shop!

  Just then the young people heard a car. They did not want to be caught spying! The girls started to move away. But Dick, startled by the automobile, suddenly lost his balance and tumbled into the cellar of the art shop!