Читать книгу The Password to Larkspur Lane - Walter Karig - Страница 7

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“Please don’t take the pigeon away,” Nancy begged.

“But—but—I mean, you surely don’t want to be bothered with a sick bird,” the man replied. “We will give it good care.”

Nancy had her own reasons for wishing to keep the pigeon until it was well, but did not care to divulge them. At last she persuaded the representative of the association to be content with a copy of the message and of the numerals on the bird’s leg band.

“I guess you might as well keep this pigeon,” Jordan said with a shrug. “And it will save me the trouble of nursing a bird that probably won’t be any good for real flights, even if it does get well.”

Nancy called Effie.

“Here,” she said, placing the feathered creature in her care, “take it outside again.”

“Yes, Miss Drew.”

“And be sure the lid of its box is securely fastened.”

Nancy was not yet wholly certain that Jordan was not representing the owner of the bird. So cleverly had Dr. Spires been hoaxed that she was convinced her opponents were men capable of getting with ease almost any information they desired.

Finally Jordan left, and Nancy spent the remainder of the afternoon planning a course of action.

First, she thought, there was the bracelet to be traced. Secondly, there was the known identity of the man who had pursued her, and the all but certain indication that he was a leader of the gang that had Dr. Spires’s patient locked up somewhere. If he could be followed——

Nancy hummed a little tune.

“Then there is the pigeon! As soon as the bird is able to fly, it will lead me to the headquarters of the crooks.”

That was her best and most certain maneuver. Nancy smiled happily, little dreaming of the strange adventures which lay ahead of her in this mystery in which the disbarred lawyer, Adam Thorne, was to play a prominent part.

Next morning Nancy drove to the biggest jewelry store in River Heights, the firm of Argent, Cutter, and Stone, and asked for Mr. Stone, the active partner and general manager. He recognized Nancy from the occasional purchases and watch repairs that had brought her there, and greeted her cordially.

“Well, Miss Drew, what can we do for you this morning?” he asked. “We have some nice diamond-studded detective badges, solid gold. Or how about a pearl-handled machine gun to ward off desperadoes?”

“I’d like a suit of armor to fit me,” Nancy laughed. “Something plain and sensible, bulletproof, of course, in the latest style.”

“Now, I’m sorry we are just out of your size,” joked Mr. Stone. “However, if I had my way, this firm would be making you the biggest silver loving cup in the state, as a token of our regard for the splendid work you did recently in clearing Ira Dixon’s name.”

Mr. Stone was referring, of course, to the thrilling adventures which Nancy encountered in solving the puzzle set forth in the volume called “Nancy’s Mysterious Letter.”

“Putting all jokes aside,” Nancy said, “is there any way you can trace the ownership of a piece of jewelry with a crest?”

“Of course there is.”

“I’m so glad to get your cooperation. I’ll show you what I have.”

“Step down here, Miss Drew, please.”

The jeweler led the way to a less conspicuous counter in the spacious store. Nancy felt pleased with this consideration, and smiling she opened her leather purse. Then she produced the gold bracelet which Mr. Stone took from her with a professional air.

“Another mystery, Miss Drew?” he asked. “I should be happy if I might help you. From the workmanship I should say this bracelet is about fifty years old, possibly sixty. Notice the heavy, Victorian style. I doubt if it was made around here. Inscription—Hm, means nothing to me.”

“But isn’t that a coat of arms, entwined with the engraved design there?” Nancy asked.

“Of course, of course,” Mr. Stone said. “Very attractive. Three mullets dexter and a Maltese cross sinister; crest, a falcon’s head embattled, with the motto ‘Esse quam videre.’ Every authentic coat of arms is a matter of record. It will take time, but we will be able to trace the family. Do you wish to leave the bracelet here?”

“It does not belong to me,” Nancy said hesitatingly. “If you could make a copy——?”

“In a moment,” Mr. Stone assured her, and excused himself while that business was attended to. In five minutes he was back, and the bracelet was once more safe in Nancy’s pocketbook.

She left the shop, well satisfied that if it were possible to trace the significance of the engraving on the bracelet, Mr. Stone would accomplish it for her. She felt a great wave of sympathy toward the unfortunate elderly lady who was the owner of the bracelet. Briskly she stepped toward her car. Suddenly a tug at her arm almost made her fall.

“Oh—oh—,” gasped the startled Nancy, straightening up. “What do you mean by pushing me?”

No one answered, yet a figure in blue had been very near her.

“My pocketbook,” thought Nancy instantly. “Where is it?”

Her handbag had been wrenched from her!

The leather strap of the purse had been broken with the force of the seizure!

“It is stolen!” Nancy gasped. “The bracelet!”

It took but a moment for Nancy to recover her composure. A woman was dashing across the street much faster than the scant traffic warranted. Surmising that she was the purse snatcher, Nancy raced after her.

“Stop! Stop!” cried the girl, running.

The woman hastened through the revolving doors of a department store before Nancy could reach the opposite curb, and the girl’s heart sank at the thought of the hundreds of opportunities for escape which the large place afforded.

“I must not lose her,” Nancy murmured courageously. Yet that seemed to be the possibility.

Once inside the store, however, Nancy caught a flash of light blue of the shade in which the pickpocket was garbed, on the opposite side of the shop. She hurried to the spot where the elevators were, just in time to see one speed upward.

“Did a woman in a blue dress just enter that elevator?” she asked the colored starter.

“Yas, Miss,” the man replied, touching his cap. “Lady in a powerful big hurry. Reckon she tryin’ to get to de bargain sale of——”

Nancy did not wait to hear the man’s conjectures for the woman’s haste. She knew why the person was in a hurry, and so raced the few steps to the escalator. Up the traveling stairs Nancy leaped, three steps at a time, to the second floor, reaching there just in time to see the elevator vanishing up the shaft.

“Did that elevator stop at this floor?” Nancy demanded of a bewildered clerk who could only shake her head mutely.

So up to the second flight of moving stairs darted Nancy, arriving breathlessly on the third floor just as the elevator door clanged shut. One quick glance convinced her that the woman in blue was not aboard, so obviously she must have stepped out.

“Anything in a sports’ frock, Miss? May I show you our latest printed silks, very——”

“No, no,” Nancy panted. “I’m after a thief! I’m looking for a woman——”

“A lady?” gasped the startled salesgirl. “What did she take?”

“A valuable bracelet and my purse! I must find her!”