Contents

1.AlarmCall2.FacesfromthePast3.RedJuggernaut4.CarSnoop5.WeirdIntruders6.Copycat7.TheSecretSeal8.ADangerousPlan9.SpookinArmor10.DamagingEvidence11.EnglishSettlers12.AGhostintheAttic13.PhantomFashions14.LegalThreats15.AnOldLikeness16.TheFrenchImposter17.ATantalizingTranslation18.TheOldGowns19.TheEyesHaveIt!20.HistoryLesson

1

AlarmCall

“Nancy,myclienthereneedsamysterysolved,”saidAttorneyCarsonDrew.“I’mhopingyoumaybeabletohelphim.”

“I’llbegladtotry,Dad.”Atall,dark-hairedyoungmanbowedandshookhandswithNancyDrew

as the lawyer introduced him. “This isMr. PierreMichaud…or perhaps IshouldsayMonsieurMichaud,sincehecomesfromFrance.”

The young man smiled. “Simply Pierre Michaud will do very well,merci.”

Hewascertainlyhandsome,Nancyobserved,withfinelychiseledfeaturesthatincludedahigh-bridged,slightlyaquilinenoseandstrong,dimpledchin.Hiswide-set,darkeyeswereespeciallystriking.

“Iamtoldyouhaveagreattalentforsolvingmysteries,MissDrew,”hewenton.

The lovely young sleuth, whose red-gold hair and sparkling blue eyeswereamongherownmoststrikingfeatures,smiledback.“You’dbettertakenothing for granted untilwe see if I can help in your case,” she chuckled.“Tellmeallaboutit.”

TheFrenchman explained that as hehadno relatives, hehad closedhisfamily’s small house near the Riviera before coming to America. “Whiledisposingofsomeofmylategrandfather’sbelongings,”Pierrecontinued,“Icameacrossthisletter.”

HehandedNancyafoldedsheetofbluestationery.Tohersurprise,itborean engraved address in her own hometown ofRiverHeights and the nameLouiseDuval.Accordingtothetypewrittendateinonecorner,theletterhadbeenwrittenthirtyyearsago.Itread:

DearM.Michaud,While tracing an ancestress of mine, I havemade a startling discovery

whichmaybeofgreatimportancetobothofus.Iprefertosaynothingmoreuntilallthefactsareclear.ButIamplanning

atriptoFrancesoon,andIshalllookforwardtoinformingyouinpersonofsomeexcitingnewsatthattime.

Sincerelyyours,LouiseDuval

NancyraisedhereyesfromtheletterinaquestioningglanceattheyoungFrenchman.“DoyouknowifthisDuvalwomaneverdidcometovisityourgrandfather?”

PierreMichaudrespondedwithaquizzicalshrug.“Ihavenoidea.ThatiswhyIfirstconsultedyourfather.”

Carson Drew spoke up. “You see, Nancy, that address on the letter nolongerexists.Apparently thehousewas torndownsomeyearsago tomakewayforanindustrialpark.SoPierreaskedmetotryandtraceLouiseDuval.”

“Anyluck,Dad?”“I’m afraid not. From town hall records, I learned thatMissDuval has

beendeadformanyyears.Shediedsoonafterthatletterwaswritten,infact.However, herwill is on file at the county courthouse, and by checking outnames from that source, I learned that she has one living descendant, agrandniecenamedLisaThorpe.”

Nancy frowned reflectively. “Sounds familiar. Iwonder if I’ve evermether.”

“Quitepossibly.Oryoumayhaveseenhernameon thesocietypageofthe Record at some time or other. She’s the daughter of a wealthybusinessman,NortonThorpe.”

NancyturnedbacktoPierre.“AndhaveyoutalkedtoMissThorpe?”“Oui, I have seen her on several occasions, but she and her father had

neverevenheardofLouiseDuval’s letter tomygrandfather.”Witha slightflush,theFrenchmanadded,“UnfortunatelyMr.Thorpewasnotverykindly.Imightevensaythathemadenosecretofdislikingme.Asaresult,neitherhenorLisawasofmuchhelp.”

FromPierre’stoneofvoiceandthewayhereferredtoLisaThorpebyherfirst name, Nancy suspected that his contact with the Thorpes might havebeenagooddealmoreinterestingthanheleton.

For themoment,however,shedecidednot toprobefurtherandchangedthesubject.“IfLouiseDuvaldiedsoonaftershewrotetoyourgrandfather,”Nancysaid,“itsoundsasthoughsheneverwenttoFranceassheintended.”

PierreMichaudnodded.“Oui,Ithinkso,too,andthereforenothingcameof her letter. No doubt that is why I myself was unaware of it until Idiscovereditinmygrandfather’seffects.”

CarsonDrewglancedathiswatchandannouncedthatitwasalmostnoon.“I’vetakenthelibertyofhavingmysecretaryreserveatableatMarco’s,”

hewenton.“Ithoughtyoutwomightwanttocontinueyourdiscussionoverlunch.”

“Thatwouldbeagreatpleasure,”Pierre said.He rose tohis feet as thevigorous,distinguished-lookingMr.Drew,whosehairwasslightlygrayingatthe temples, came out from behind his desk to offer a parting handshake.

“Willyounotjoinus,sir?”“Regretfully,no, Ihaveanotherappointment Imustkeep.Besides,”Mr.

Drewaddedwithasmile,“Nancywillprobablyelicitalltheinformationsheneedsmuchmorequicklywithoutanyinterruptionsbyme.”

Marco’swas only a block away fromCarsonDrew’s lawoffice.Nancyliked its comfortable, relaxed atmosphere and red-checked tablecloths. Sheoftenatetherewithherfatherwhenhelpinghimononeofhislawcases.

TodaythewaiterseatedherandPierrebythefrontwindow,broughttheirordersswiftly,andleftthemtoenjoythedeliciousItalianfood.

“YoumentionedthatyouwerealreadyplanningtocometoAmericawhenyouranacrossMissDuval’sletter,”Nancysaidaftertheybeganeating.

“Oui,thatisso,”Pierrereplied.“Areyouheremainlyonbusiness,then,orjustonvacation?”“On business.” The young Frenchman explained that he was an

electronics engineer and had come to the United States hoping to interestsomeAmericanmanufacturer inanew typeofcomputermemorywhichhehadinvented.“Thereisstillmuchworktobedoneinperfectingmydevice,you see, but that will take money. Luckily, I found a backer soon after Iarrivedinthiscountry.”

“SomeoneinRiverHeights?”Nancyinquired.“No,hisname isMr.Varney.He isa ratherquiet financierwhodislikes

publicityandspecializesindevelopingnewproductsforindustry.WemetinNewYork City. But when I told him that I wished to spend some time inRiver Heights for personal reasons, he very kindly rented a small vacantbuildinghereformetouseasmyworkshop.”

“Thatwascertainlyaluckybreak.”Nancyhesitatedamoment,thensaidgently,“Idon’tmean topry,butwouldyoucare to tellmeanymoreaboutyourtalkswithLisaThorpeandherfather?Itmightgivemealeadtofollowupinunravelingthiscase.”

Pierreglanceddownathisplatewithanembarrassedexpression.Whenhelookedup andmetNancy’s gaze, he smiled regretfully. “Ehbien, Imay aswellbefrank,sinceyouhavebeenkindenoughtotryandhelpme.Thetruthis, I foundMiss Thorpe very attractive. She seemed to likeme, too, and Ihopedthatwemightbecomebetteracquainted.”

“NortonThorpe,however,disapprovedofhisdaughterbecominginvolvedwith a foreigner who had no job and little money. His manner was quiteinsulting,”Pierreconfided.“Iamnotusedtosuchrudeness,andIrefusedtobebullied.SohemadeitclearthatIwasnolongerwelcomeinhishouse.”

“WhataboutLisaherself?”askedNancy.TheyoungFrenchmanshruggedunhappily.“She isverymuch—howdo

yousay?—underherfather’sthumb.Indeed,sheseemsalmostafraidofhim.SoIassumeshehasbowedtohiswishes,andthatiswhyshehasnotreturned

mycalls.”Theirtablebythewindowgaveaclearviewofthestreetoutside.Nancy

wasabouttogoondiscussingtheThorpes,whensuddenlyshefrowned.“Doyouseethatmanstandingacrossthestreet?”shemurmured.Pierreglancedoutthewindow.“Theonein

thedoorwayofthejewelryshop?”

“Yes.”Themanwasswarthyand,thoughneatlydressed,wasrathertoughinappearance,withaheavyjawandscowling,darkeyebrows.

“Notaverypleasant-lookingperson,”Pierreremarked.“Iagree.Haveyoueverseenhimbefore?”“Not thatIknowof.”PierreglancedatNancyinsurprise.“Whydoyou

ask?”“Because I noticedhimhanging aboutwhenwe left the buildingwhere

my father hashis office.Nowhe seems tobewatching this restaurant. I’mwonderingifhe’sshadowingus.”

Nancy’swordsbroughtafrownofconcerntoPierre’sface.“Thatisratherworrisome,”hesaidinagravevoice.“Mybacker,Mr.Varney,warnedmetobeonthelookoutforsuchaperson.Apparentlyhehimselfhasbeenannoyedbysometroublemakerwhobearshimagrudge.”

BeforeNancycouldcomment,thewaitercamebustlingtowardtheirtablewithaphone inonehand. “Youhaveacall fromyour father’soffice,MissDrew!”

She waited until he plugged in the telephone, then lifted the receiver.“ThisisNancy.”

Thevoiceonthelinewasthatofherfather’ssecretary,MissHanson.“I’msorrytointerruptyourlunch,Nancy,”shesaid,“especiallywithbadnews,butthisisurgent!”

Theyoungdetectivelistenedintently,thenthankedMissHansonandhungup.Turning toPierreMichaud, she said, “Youhave a girlworking for younamedNyraBetz?”

“Oui, she types and answers the phone and helps out with myexperimentalwork.Why?”

“Shejustcalledmyfather’sofficetosayyourworkshopisonfire!”Pierrestoodupfromthetable.“Ifyouwillexcuseme,MissDrew,Ihad

bettergothereatonce!“Ofcourse.I’lldriveyou!”As they hurried out of the restaurant, Nancy noticed that the swarthy

watcherwasnowhere in sight.Her trimblue sports carwasparked in a lotjust around the corner. Soon she and Pierre were whizzing through thebusinessdistrictofRiverHeights.

Hisworkshopwaslocatedinafactorydistrictneartherailroadtracksonthewestsideoftown.Itwasasmall,two-storybrickbuildingthatlookedasifitmightoncehavehousedarepairshoporshipping-companyoffice.

The shrill sound of fire sirens could be heard in the distance asNancypulledupinthepavedparkingareajustoutside.Billowingsmokeandflameswereissuingfromthebuilding.

As Nancy and the young Frenchman jumped out of her car, a girl’sscreamsrangthroughtheair.

“ThatisNyra!”Pierrecriedanxiously.“Shemustbetrappedinside!”

2

FacesfromthePast

Pierreracedacrossthepavementtotheoldwoodendoorofthebuilding.Heshouldered it open and disappeared into the smoke and shooting flames.Nancyheldherbreath.

Just then the fire engine came thundering up. Raincoated fire fightersjumpedoffthetruckandbeganconnectingahosetothenearesthydrant.

Inamoment,NancysawPierrestaggeroutofthebuilding,carryingagirlinhisarms.Shewasclingingtohisneck,coughingandsobbinghysterically.Nancyandayoungfiremanrushedforwardtohelp.Thegirlseemedvexedatthe sight ofNancy, but allowed the fireman to helpPierre lower her to thegrassyvergeof theparkingarea.Sheseemeddelightedat theirconcernandattention.

Gradually, after struggling for breath and fluttering her eyelids as ifrevivingfromafaint,shepermittedPierretohelphersitup.Then,inanotherfewmoments,withhisarmaroundher,shemanaged to rise toher feet,butleanedcloselyagainsthimforsupport.Shewasatall, thingirlwithmouse-colored brown hair, and she was not very attractive due to her petulantexpression.

Her pale gray eyes focused on the young Frenchman’s face as shequavered,“Oh,Pierre!IjustlefttogodowntoCenterStreettogetabiteoflunch.Iwasn’tgonemorethantwentyminutes.AndIcomebacktothis!”

Pressingherhandtohereyes,shewailed,“Oh,Ishouldneverhavegone!Ihopenoneofyourworkisruined!”

“Now,now,”Pierresaid,“youarenottoworry.Youaresafe.Thatisthemostimportantthing.”

“No, oh no!Yourwork is themost important thing. If only you hadn’tgone out this morning, all this might never have happened!” she declared,shootingawitheringglanceatNancybetweensobs.“Whateverelseyouhadtodo,surelyitdidn’tmatterasmuchasyourworkandexperimentshere!”

Ignoringhercomments,Pierresaid,“Nancy,letmeintroduceNyraBetz,mysecretaryandall-roundhelper.Sheisinvaluable!”

Nyrasimperedandblushed.“Hi.”Thetitian-hairedgirlsmiled.At thatmoment,Nancysuddenlyrealizedhowsurprising itwas thatshe

and Pierre had reached the scene even before the fire engine arrived.NyramusthavecalledCarsonDrew’sofficebeforesheevenphonedinanalarm!Andwhyhadn’t she left the building sooner?Obviously she adoredPierre.CouldshehavesettheblazeherselfjustforthesakeofbeingrescuedbythehandsomeFrenchman?

Aloud,feelingsomewhatsorryforNyra,Nancysaid,“Pierre,you’reveryluckytohavefoundsomeonesocapableanddedicated.”

Themousy-hairedgirlglancedatNancywithlessanimositynow.Pierre smiled. “Yes, truly. Nyra and Imet when I first went to see the

Thorpes,justafterIarrivedinRiverHeights.SheisagoodfriendofLisa’s.”Notanymore,I’llbet!thoughtNancy.“LaterNyracametoseemyworkshop,”Pierrewenton.“WhenIshowed

hermymemorydeviceandexplainedhowIworked,shevolunteeredtohelpme.”

“Gee,thatwasniceofyou,Nyra,”Nancysaidpolitely.Meanwhile, the fire fighters had been playing streams of water on the

burningbuildingandsoonextinguishedthesmallsmokyfire.The fire captain frowned suspiciously as he went inside to inspect the

damage. When he came out again, he said to Pierre, “Are you the soleoccupantofthisbuilding?”

“Yes,Iliveabovemyworkshop,”Pierrereplied.“Anyenemies?”TheFrenchmanshruggedinsurprise.“NotsofarasIamaware.Why?”“Bettercomeinandtakealookatthis.”Pierre accompanied the fire captain into the building. Nyra and Nancy

followedthemintothedamp,smoke-blackenedroom.Itwasimpossibletomiss!Acrossonewallinredspraypaintwastheugly

threat:

GOHOME,FRENCHY,ORALOTWORSEWILLHAPPEN!

Nancy felt a shiver of alarm. If she was going to help Pierre, she hadbetterbeginher investigationas soonaspossible.Butwhere to starton thecase? Themore she thought about it, themore it seemed that Lisa Thorpemightbethepersonbestabletosupplyacluetothemystery.

After excusing herself and saying goodbye,Nancy left Pierre andNyrastilltalkingtothefirecaptain,anddroveoff.

Assherodealongwithherhandsonthewheelandhereyesontheroad,she continued turning the problem over in her head. And suddenly sherealizedwhyLisaThorpe’snamehad sounded so familiarwhenPierre firstmentionedit.

Of course! She worked at the River Heights Thrift Shop with Bess

Marvin,oneofNancy’sclosestfriends.The shop sold clothing donated or gathered by members of a local

charitableorganization.Nancyglancedatherwristwatch.Theshopwasopenonlyatcertainhours,butsomeonemightbetherenow.

Coming toapublic telephonebooth,Nancyswungover to thecurbandgotout,thenlookedupthethriftshopnumberanddialed.

Luckily, her good friend BessMarvin, answered. She was delighted tohear fromNancy, who said, “Bess, by any chance is Lisa Thorpeworkingthere with you this afternoon? But don’t let on that I’m asking about her,please!”

“Oh…okay,Nancy,Iunderstand.Andtheanswerisyes.”“Bess,I’dliketomeether,soI’mgoingtodropby.”Herfriendimmediatelysensedthatthefamousyoungdetectivewashoton

thetrailofanothermastery.“Fabulous!Butwe’reclosingforthedayinabouttwentyminutes,Nancy,soyou’dbetterhurry.”

“I’monmyway,Bess!Seeyousoon.”Nancydrove to theother sideof town.The thrift shopwas located two

blocks offMainStreet, on the first floor of an old house.Abell tinkled asNancyopenedthedoorandwalkedin.

Bess and a pretty, laughing girl were tidying the racks of clothing anddisplaysofotherdonatedgoods.Bess,whowasblondandplump,introducedLisa, and Nancy could well understand Pierre’s interest in her. She hadglowingbrowneyesandbeautiful ivoryskinthatseemedevenmoreperfectby contrast with her brunette hair. She was perhaps four years older thanNancyandBess.

Nancy said, “Bess, Iwas out on an errand, so I thought I’d drop by topersuadeyoutohaveasundaewithme.”

“Oooh,myweakness!Well, we’re almost through here.” She turned toLisa.“Whydon’tyoucomealongwithus?”

“Well,I,…”Lisahesitated.“That’sasplendididea.Docome,”Nancysecondedtheinvitation.“Let’s

go to Jake’s Ice Cream Parlor. He makes the most delicious hot fudgesundaes!”

So the thrift shopwas locked,and the threegirlspiled intoNancy’scar.SoontheywereseatedinaboothatJake’s.Aftertheyhadgiventheirorders,Nancysaid,“Lisa,I’msogladyouwereabletocomewithus.Yousee,I’vebeenaskedtohelpPierreMichaudsolvethemysteryofLouiseDuval’slettertohisgrandfather.”

At the mention of Pierre’s name, Nancy noticed that Lisa colored anddroppedhereyes.

“Ohyes,hedidcometoseeusaboutthat,”shesaid,lookingupagainatNancy.“MyfatherandIhadneverheardofitbefore.LouiseDuvalwasmy

great-aunt,butshe’sbeendeadmany,manyyears.”“Oh,thissoundsexciting.Tellmeaboutit,”Besssaid.ToLisa,sheadded,

“Nancyhasareputationforsolvingmysteries.She’sreallygood.”“Oh,now,Bess.”Nancylaughed.ButLisawaslookingatherwithfresh

interest.“I’dliketohelp,Nancy.Willyouletme?”“Of course. You can help a great deal. You know that PierreMichaud

foundtheletterfromyourgreat-auntamonghisgrandfather’seffects.”Lisa nodded as she took a spoonful of sundae. “Yes, he said that she

mentionedsomeancestressintheletter.”“Haveyouanyideawhomshemeant?”saidBess.“Well, I’ve been thinking about that, and I feel sure it must have been

YvetteDuval.”“Prettyname,”Bessmurmured.“Yes,andsheherselfwasbeautiful.ShewasFrench,asyou’veprobably

guessedfromhername,andshecametothiscountrywithherhusbandabouttwohundredyearsago.TheysettledrighthereinRiverHeights.”

“Hm,”Nancysaid.“Whatelsedoyouknowabouther?”“Notmuch.”Lisasmiled.“Asamatteroffact,it’sbeensortofatradition

in our family that there was something mysterious about Yvette Duval.Somethingtodowithherpast,whichsheneverrevealedandwouldnevertalkabout.”

“Gee, just the way you say that almost gives me goose bumps!” Bessdeclaredinanawedvoice.

Thegirlsweresilentforatime,enjoyingtheirsundaesandthinkingaboutLisa’sunusualancestress.

Breaking the silence, Lisa said hesitantly, “Have you seen Pierrerecently?”

Nancysaid,“Yes,justtoday.Therewasamysteriousfireathisworkshop.NyraBetzdiscoveredit.”

“Nyra?”Lisaechoedinsurprise.“Howdidthathappen?”“Sheworks for him now,”Nancy said gently. From the expression that

flickered briefly on Lisa’s face and the way her fingers clenched on thenapkin she was holding, Nancy could see that the news had come as asomewhatunpleasantshocktoher.

But the brunette girl soon recovered her poise and said, “When Pierrecame to see us, I’m afraidmy father was quite rude to him. I felt terribleaboutit.Afterall,hewasatotalstrangerinthiscountryandhadcometousfor help or information.” Lisa swallowed hard and looked down at thetablecloth.

Alwaystheromantic,BessshotasignificantglanceatNancyandnoddedherheadsagely.

Soonafterward,Lisanoticedthetime.“Golly,I’dbetterbegoing.Ihavetogetmycaratthethriftshop.”

“Don’tworry,I’lldriveyouback,”saidNancy.“Well, thanks. By theway,we have a portrait ofYvetteDuval and her

husbandatmyhouse.Wouldyouliketoseeit?”“Oh,yes!Let’s,Nancy,”saidBess.On their way to the thrift shop, Lisa pointed to a big industrial park.

“That’swhereLouiseDuvalusedtolive.Allthatpropertywashers.”“Wow,”saidBess.“Must’vebeenabigplace!”“Yes,andoldtoo.Mymothertoldmeallaboutit.LouiseDuvalwasher

aunt,mymaternalgrandfather’ssister.”“Didshelivetherebyherself?”askedNancy.“No,shehadamaidwhomIrememberquitewell.Sheusedtocomeand

visitussometimes,evenlongafterGreat-AuntLouisedied.”The titian-haired detectivewas keenly interested in hearing this. “Is her

maidstillalive?”Lisanodded.“Yes,infactwehadacardfromherlastChristmas.I’llgive

youheraddress.Hername’sEmilyOwsler.”As theywere about to turn into the parking lot next to the thrift shop,

Nancygasped.Shehad just caught sightof the swarthymanwhohadbeenwatchingherandPierreatMarco’s.Hewassitting inacarparkednear theshop,butnow,asifrealizinghehadbeenseen,heslowlydroveaway.Nancydecidedshehadbettertellherdadabouthimthatnight.

Lisa got into her own car. Then Nancy and Bess followed her to theThorpes’ house. Itwas awhite, three-story framemansionwith a tower.Aspaciousporchranacrossthefrontandsideofthehouse.

“It’s way too big for us, especially sinceMother died,” Lisa remarked,“butmyfather’sfamilyhasalwayslivedhere.”

Theinteriorwasbeautifullyfurnished.Lisaledthemtoapaneledhallwaywith a large, sunny room at one end, full of plants and flowers and whitewickerfurniture.Theportraitshehadmentionedhunginthehallwaynearthisroom.Inadditiontothelightfloodinginthroughthesunroom,Lisaflickedaswitchabovetheframewhichtotallyilluminatedtheoilpainting.

“ThisisYvetteandherhusband,PaulDuval.”Yvettewasawhite-skinnedbeautywithlustrousblackcurlsandflashing

darkeyes,dressedinalow-neckedgownoftheperiod.PaulDuval,inadarkblue coat and white neck cloth, seemed more stodgy and matter-of-fact, atypicalmanofbusiness.Itwashiswifewhodrewthegirls’eyes.

“Gee,shewasbeautiful,”saidBess.Nevertheless,NancysensedahauntingsadnessaboutYvette’sexpression.“I’vealwaysimaginedherassomesortofadventuress,”Lisaremarked.“Maybe a spy,”Nancy suggested half humorously. “After all, the years

around1800wereatimeofwarinFranceandEurope.”“Ohyes,that’sevenmoreexciting!”Lisaagreed,andsodidBess.Justthen,Nancyheardadooropenandshutsomewhereinthefrontofthe

house, and Lisa suddenly became quiet. Presently a big, heavily built manwith brush-cut, graying hair came into the hallway. He was carrying abriefcase.

“Hello, Daddy,” Lisa said nervously and introduced him to her twocompanions.

“Hmph.Afternoon, girls,”NortonThorpe responded curtly.Hismannerwasintimidating.

“NancyhasbeenaskedtohelpPierreMichauddiscoverwhatGreat-AuntDuval’sletterwasallabout,”Lisawenton.

Her words brought an angry flush to Mr. Thorpe’s face. His bristlingbrows came down in a furious scowl. “I thought I told you not to concernyourselfanymorewiththatfortune-huntingFrenchman,Lisa!”hethundered.

Turning to Nancy and Bess, he added, “That means none of hisinvestigatorsorgo-betweensarewelcomehere. Imustaskyou to leavemyhouseimmediately!”

3

RedJuggernaut

Therewasamomentofstunned,awkwardsilence.ThenNancysaidcoolly,“Wecamehereasyourdaughter’sguests,Mr.Thorpe.Wenaturallyassumedthiswasherhomeaswellasyours,andthereforeyouwouldrespectherrightto invite us. However, if you have different standards and our presenceoffendsyou,wecertainlywon’tremain.”

Turningtoherfriend,Nancysaid,“Shallwego,Bess?”Her companion, pink-faced with embarrassment and slightly breathless,

exclaimed,“Oh,yes!The two girls walked out with their heads high. Norton Thorpe, who

evidentlywasnotusedtobeingdefiedorspokentointhisfashion,lookedon,fumingwithanger.Fromhisflushed,tight-lippedexpression,heseemedatalossfor therightwords toput this impudentyoungfemale,NancyDrew, inherplace.

Lisa watched what was happening with a pale, frightened face. Sheseemedtohavebeenshockedintosilencebyherfather’sharshoutburst.

Nevertheless, she hurried after her two guests and murmured, “I’mawfullysorryaboutthis!”

Nancy squeezed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t beupset,Lisa.Weunderstand.Itwasn’tyourfault.”

Outside, as the two girls reached Nancy’s car, Bess Marvin let out anindignantgasp.“Ofalltherudepeople!Thatmanisimpossible!”

Nancygenerouslywasreadytomakeallowances.“Perhapshehadaharddayattheoffice.”

“Hecertainlymustbedifficulttolivewith!”Bessdeclaredassheclimbedinbesidetheprettyyoungsleuth.“NowonderLisadidn’treturnPierre’scalls.She’sprobablyscaredtodeathofherfather.”

“Pierresaidshewasunderhisthumb.Whenyoustoptothinkofit,itwasbraveofhertocomeapologizeinfrontofhim,asshedid.”

“Mr.Thorpe’ssooverbearing,I’llbetshe’sneverseenanyonestanduptohim.Maybeyourexamplehelpedtoputalittlebackboneintoher,Nancy.”

Nancy found it hard not to smile, rememberingBess’s own timid, soft-heartedways.All thesame,fromseveralof theirpastadventures,sheknewthatherfriendcouldbeasbraveasanyoneinarealemergency.

“If you’re right, Bess, then I’m glad it happened,” Nancy said aloud.“Also,IlearnedonethingfromourvisittoLisa’sthatcouldbeveryhelpful.”

“What’sthat?”“HowtogetintouchwithLouiseDuval’sformermaid.”Afterdroppinghergirlfriendoffat theMarvins’,Nancyreturnedhome.

Asshewalkedinthedoor,HannahGruensaid,“Youhadaphonecallwhileyouwereout,dear.”

The kindly,middle-agedwoman had been theDrew’s housekeeper eversincetheattorney’swifehadpassedawaywhenNancywasalittlegirl.

“Whowasit,Hannah?”“The curator of the artmuseum.Mr.Gregory, I think he said his name

was.He’dlikeyoutohelpinvestigatethosetwobreak-insweheardaboutonthenews.”

Nancy’seyessparkledwithinterest.“Soundsexciting!”“But not dangerous, I hope,” said the motherly housekeeper, her voice

takingonanoteofconcern.“Don’tworry,Hannah,” the youngdetective chuckled. “I doubt that the

casewillbeallthatexciting.ButI’llbecareful!”After looking up Emily Owsler’s number in the telephone directory,

Nancycalled theformermaid.Anelderlyvoiceanswered.Nancyexplainedthatshewaslookingintoamatterthatconcernedthemaid’sformermistressandaskedifshemightdropbyforavisitatsomeconvenienttime.

“Whyofcourse,MissDrew.I’llbehomeallevening,ifyoucaretostopin.”

“Thankyou,thatwouldbenice.”AfterhelpingHannahwiththedinnerdishes,Nancystartedoutinhercar

about8:30.Itwasachillautumnnightwithagatheringmistthatfilmedherwindshieldwithmoisture.

EmilyOwsler’saddressturnedouttobeamodestapartmentbuildingontheoutskirtsofRiverHeights.Thepersonwhoopenedthedoorwasaslender,gray-hairedwomaninherseventies.

“Please come in,Miss Drew. I’ve read in the paper about some of themysteriesyou’vesolved.”

Theex-maidseemedeagertochat,andNancyhadnotroublesteeringtheconversationaroundtothesubjectofherformeremployer.ButMissOwslerhad no idea why Louise Duval might have written to Pierre’s grandfather,eventhoughNancycouldsupplytheexactdateoftheletter.

“Irememberthetimeverywell,though,”EmilyOwslermusedsadly.“ItwasjustafewweekslaterthatMissDuvaldied.”

“Can you think of anything at all unusual that might have happenedaroundthattime?”Nancyprobed.

MissOwsler knit her brow. “Hm, I do recall her hiring a person to do

somespecialworkforherthatsummer.Ithink‘foreignresearch’wasthewayshereferredtoit.”

“Butyoudon’trememberwhothatpersonwas?”“Notreally.Somesortofexpert,Ibelieve,butIcouldn’tsaywhathewas

anexpertin,orexactlywhatshehiredhimtodo.Cometothinkofit,itwasasecret…”

Thewoman’sfacesuddenlybrightenedasshewenton,“Yes,Idorecallnow!MissLouisewasquiteexcitedaboutthewholething.AndIrememberhowshesoundedwhenshementionedittosomeofherfriends—asifshewasjust bursting to tell them some exciting news, but had towait for the righttime,afterthisresearch—orwhateveritwas—wascompleted.”

All this, Nancy thought, sounded very much like the tone of LouiseDuval’smysteriouslettertoPierre’sgrandfather…which,inturn,convincedherthattheso-called‘research’mightholdthekeytothemystery.

“Youknow,MissDrew,”EmilyOwslercontinued,“youmightbeabletofindoutmorefromMissLouise’slawyer.”

“Thatsoundslikeagoodidea.Canyoutellmehisname?”“Yes,JonasBecker.AndhislawfirmisHylig&Becker.Iknowbecause

they’retheonesIgetmymonthlypensioncheckfrom.”Nancy thanked thewoman for her information. Then she said, “In that

letter I told you about, Miss Duval wrote that she was planning to go toFrance.Butapparentlysheneverdid,norfollowedupherletterinanyway.Iassumethat’sbecauseshediedrathersuddenlyandunexpectedly.”

EmilyOwslernodded,herfacecloudingatthememory.“Yes,that’sright.MissLouisediedofaheartattackafteraveryunpleasantexperience.”

“Oh?Whatwas that?” askedNancy, her detective instincts immediatelyaroused.

“Well,yousee,shewasoutforastrolloneevening.Shealwayslikedtogo for awalkafterdinner, said itwasgood forherdigestion.Anyhow, shecame rushing in soon afterward—all upset and out of breath, clutching herbosom.Iaskedherwhatwaswrong,andshesaidabigredcarhadalmostrunherdown!”

MissOwslerdabbedhereyeswithahandkerchief,obviouslydistressedasthe circumstances of her mistress’s death came back to her. “I phoned herdoctor right away and gave her two of the pills he’d prescribed, and thenmade her a cup of tea,” she went on, “but the poor soul died just a fewminuteslater,beforethedoctorcouldarrive.We’dallknownforsometime,ofcourse,thatshehadaweakheart.”

Theex-maidgulpedbacktearsandblewhernose.“I’msorrytobringbackthesesadmemories,”Nancyapologized.“Itmust

beveryupsettingtotalkabout.”“That’sallright,mydear.I’mgladifwhatI’vetoldyouhasbeenofany

help.”Nancy thanked Miss Owsler and made her way downstairs in the

apartmentelevator.Outside thebuilding, thenightmistwas thickening,andthestreetlightsglowedinthedarknesswithafoggyhalo.Nancyturnedonherwindshieldwipersafterstartingthecar.

Shehadgoneonlyacoupleofblockswhenshenoticedacarcomingupbehindher in the rear-viewmirror. Its headlightswereoff,whichmade theoutlinesof the car easier todiscern.Despite themist, the street lamps shedenoughlightforNancytoseethatthecarwasred.

Butshecouldmakeoutnooneatthewheel!Nancy’sheartgavealurch.Thisfogmustbeplayingtrickswithmyeyes!

shethought.Nervouslysheswungovertotheright,togivethecarbehindherroomto

pass. But it made no attempt to do so. And when she speeded up, it tooincreasedspeedsoas tostaylittlemorethanacoupleofcar lengthsbehindher!

Nancy’spulsewasbeatingfearfullynow.“Thatcan’tbeaghostcar!”shetoldherself.“Itmusthaveadriver,evenifIcan’tseehim!”

Butwhywashetrailingher?Washejustwaitingfortherightmomenttopounceinsomeway?

Nancy clenchedher teeth and tried to keep calm.Therewas always thehope that she might sight a police cruiser, and anyhow she hadn’t muchfarthertogo.

Meanwhile, the reddish car continued to follow her through the mistydarkness!Althoughthevisibilitywastoopoortotellitsmakeoryear,Nancyhadtheimpressionthatitwaslargeandold-fashioned!

Whenatlastshecametoherowncorner,sheswungthewheelviolently,then stared in the rear-viewmirror.Toher relief, theother car had spedonpasttheintersectionandwasnolongerfollowingher.

Nancy’sheartwasstillpumpingfuriouslywhenshestoppedandswitchedoff the ignitionmoments later.Leavingher car parked in thedriveway, shejumped out, eager to get inside the house.But before she couldmount thefrontsteps,shereceivedanothershock.

A sinister figure detached itself from the shadows of the shrubbery andcamestridingtowardher.Onceagain,itwastheswarthy,tough-lookingmanwhomsheandPierrehadglimpsedouttherestaurantwindow!

4

CarSnoop

“Wait!Donottrytoruninside!”Themanspokewithaheavyforeignaccent,hisvoiceladenwithmenace.“Ihavecometotalktoyou!

Nancycaughtherbreath,butstruggledtokeepherownvoicecalmasshereplied,“Thisisastrangetimeandastrangewaytostartaconversation.”

Summoninguphercourage,shewentonboldly,“Whoareyou,andwhyhaveyoubeenfollowingmearound,spyingonme?”

“Nevermindall that!” thedark-visagedstrangergrowled.“Iamtheonewhowillaskthequestions.Andyouwillanswer.AreyouafriendofPierreMichaud’s?”

“Yes,Iknowhim,ifthat’swhatyoumean,andIconsiderhimafriend.Hehasaskedmeto

investigatesomethingthathappenedalongtimeago.”“Well,youhadbetterdropthejobrightnowandstophelpinghiminany

way,oryouwillfindyourselfinserioustrouble!Doyouunderstand?”Nancy shrank back as his brutal face glared at her out of the semi-

darkness.“Andnowyouwill tellme somethingmore.Wheredidyougo tonight,

andwhomwasityousaw?”Whenshehesitated,hetookasteptowardher.

Nancyfeltafreshpangofalarmbutsaidinadefiantvoice,“WhatIdoorwhomIseeisnoneofyourbusiness!You’dbetterstopbotheringmeorI’llcallthepolice!”

Theman shookhis fist threateningly. “I amwarningyou, girl!Youhadbetternot—”

HehadraisedhisvoicetoscareNancy,butnowhesuddenlybrokeoffashe noticed a movement at the window out of the corner of his eye. ThecurtainstwitchedandshrillbarkingfollowedasNancy’spetbullterrier,Togo,looked out and decided to arouse the Drew household. He sensed that hisbelovedyoungmistresswasindanger.

Nancysilentlyblessedthefaithful,alertlittledogbecausehisbarkinghadclearlyunnervedhersinistercaller.Themanbegantobackaway,stillshakinghisfistandmuttering,“RememberwhatIhavesaid!”

Amomentlater,theporchlightcameonandthescowlingstrangerranoffinto thedarkness.HannahGruenopened the frontdooras theyoungsleuthhurrieduptheporchsteps.

“Nancy! Is something wrong?” the housekeeper exclaimed. “Why wasTogobarking?”

“Therewassomeoneoutthere,Hannah.Butdon’tworry,he’sgonenow.”Nancy flung herself down gratefully in an easy chair in the bright,

comfortablelivingroom.Withasighofrelief,sheranherfingersthroughherhair.

“I’ll bet you’remighty glad to get home on a night like this,” Hannahmurmuredsympathetically.

“Oh, you have no idea how glad! I had quite a fright tonight, cominghome.”

“Whathappened,dear?”“Acarfollowedme—abig,old-fashioned-lookingredcar.Itslightswere

off,foronething,but thereallyscarypartwasthat it lookedas if ithadnodriver!”

Thehousekeepergasped.“Areyouserious,Nancy?”“YoubetIam!Oh,Irealizemyeyeswereprobablyplayingtricksonme,

whatwiththemistandall,butthat’showitlooked.”Hannah shook her head in amazement. “My goodness, that’s enough to

giveanyoneafright.”“What made it even worse,” Nancy continued, “was that the person I

visitedtonighthadjustbeentellingmehowawomanwasfrightenedtodeaththirtyyearsagobyaredcarthatalmostranherdown.”

Thehousekeepershudderedslightlyandcluckedhertongue.“Nowonderyou were upset. That’s really spooky, even if the whole thing was just acoincidence—anditsurelymusthavebeen,Nancy,don’tyouthinkso?”

“You’re probably right,Hannah.But thatwasn’t all. Just as I got home

and started to go up on the porch, a tough-lookingman stepped out of theshrubbery.HetriedtoscaremeoffacaseI’minvestigatingforDad.”

Hannahwas shockedandoutragedby thisnews. “Shouldn’twecall thepolice?”sheurged.

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t do much good,” Nancy replied. “Even if I’dphonedthemomentIgotinthehouse,he’dprobablyhavebeenlonggonebythetimeascoutcargothere.I imaginehehadacarparkedupthestreetoraroundthecorner.”

“Poor dear, you’ve really had an awful night of it!” The housekeeperleaneddowntogiveNancyacomfortinghugandadded,“Youbesureandtellyourfatherallthiswhenhegetshome,andseewhathesays.”

“That’sexactlywhatIintendtodo.”“Good!Inthemeantime,I’mgoingtomakeyouanicecupoftea.”“Oh,wouldyou,Hannah?That’dbelovely!”Nancyfeltagreatdealbetter,nowthatshehadunburdenedherselftothe

motherlyhousekeeper.HannahGruen’ssturdycommonsensealwayshelpedtoputeventheeeriestmysteryintotheproperperspective.

Shewas prepared to stay up and keepNancy company untilMr. Drewreturned,but the teenagedetectivewouldnothearof it.“No,no!Yougotobed,Hannah,”sheinsisted.“Isn’ttomorrowyourdayatthehospital?”

“Yes, it is. So perhaps I will, Nancy, if you don’tmind,”Hannah said,stifling a yawn.Shehadvolunteered towork at theRiverHeightsHospitalonedayaweek.

After Hannah had gone upstairs, Nancy sat pondering the unpleasantencounter that had taken placewhen she arrived home. Iwonderwho thatfellowis,shemused.

TheswarthymanhadspokenwithaFrenchaccent.CouldhebePierre’senemy,theonewhosettheworkshopfireandwrotethewarningonthewall?… But no, that hardly seemed possible. They had seen him outside therestaurantjustbeforeNancygotthecallaboutthefire,sohowcouldhebeintwoplacesatonce?

Presentlysheheardherfather’skeyturninginthelockandwenttogreethim.

“Well, this is apleasant surprise.”He smiledwearily andkissedNancy.“But how come you left your car in the drive, dear? I hope you aren’tplanningtogooutagainthislate,becauseI’vealreadyputitaway.”

“No,that’sfine,Dad.Thanksforattendingtoit.I’msorryIleftyouthatextrachore,”Nancyapologized.“Imeanttodoitmyselfbutforgot.Yousee,Ihadaratherunpleasantexperiencetonight…”

Shebrokeoffsuddenlywitharuefulgrin.“Butnevermindthatnow,I’llexplain later. First, come on in the kitchen, Dad, and let me make you asandwichandacupoftea.”

“Just the tea, thanks, Nancy.” Carson Drew patted her fondly on theshoulder.“Ihadalateworkingdinnerwithaclient.”

Ina fewminutes the teawasready.As theysatsipping itat thekitchentable,Nancy told her father about the day’smysterious developments.LikeHannah,hewasgreatlyconcernedabouttheswarthystrangerwhohadlurkedoutside the house in order to question Nancy. Mr. Drew said he wouldpersonallyreporttheincidenttoPoliceChiefMcGinnisnextmorning.

“Thanks,Dad.Andbytheway,”Nancycontinued,“Ihaveanewcluetofollowup inPierreMichaud’s case.Themaid Iwas just telling you about,EmilyOwsler,saidthatLouiseDuval’slawyerwasJonasBecker,ofHylig&Becker.Doyouknowhim?”

“Idid,Nancy,butI’msorrytosaybothheandMr.Hyligaredead.Thefirm isnowrunbyoneof their former lawclerks,a fellowby thenameofMaxwellFleen.”

Nancywas disappointed. She explained that she had been hoping JonasBeckercouldsupplythenameoftheexpertMissDuvalhadhiredlongagotocarry out the foreign research she needed. “ButmaybeMr. Fleen can helpme.”

Carson Drew shook his head dubiously. “Fleen’s not a veryaccommodating fellow. I’vealwayshada feeling that…well, thathe’snotquiteontheupandup.”

Nancyfrowneduncertainly,knowinghowreluctantherfatherwastocastaspersionsonanothermemberofhisprofessionwithoutgoodreason.“Caretobeanymorespecific,Dad?”

Mr.Drewshrugged.“Let’sjustsayIgettheimpressionthere’ssomethingabouthischaracteroractionsthatwouldn’tstandtooclosescrutiny.Anyway,I’mnotonafriendlyfootingwithhim.”

“Thanksforwarningme,Dad.I’llbearthatinmind.”Nextmorning,onherwaytotheartmuseum,Nancystoppedintheoffices

ofHylig&Becker.Thereceptionist,astout,heavilymade-upwoman,sniffedindisapprovalonhearingthatNancyhadnoappointment.

“Kindlyhaveachair.I’llseeifMr.Fleencanspareyouamoment.”The atmosphere did not improve when Nancy was finally ushered into

MaxwellFleen’sinnersanctum.Hewasanarrow-faced,pinched-lippedman,sallowandscowling.Afterhearingherrequest,Fleenshookhisheadcurtly.“Absolutelynot.”

“But Miss Duval has been dead for thirty years,” Nancy pointed out.“Coulditdoanypossibleharmnowtoanswermyquestion?”

“Miss Drew,” Fleen said coldly, “three years, thirty years, it makes nodifference.Iwouldneverdiscussmyclient’saffairswithanoutsider.”

Disappointed,Nancy left the fourth-floor suiteofoffices andwentbackdowntothestreet,whereshehadparked.Shesmiledinsurpriseasshesaw

BessMarvinandBess’scousin,GeorgeFayne,standingbyhercar.“Well!Smallworld.Whatareyoutwodoinghere?”George,a slimgirlwithshort,darkhair, said,“This isyourcar, isn’t it,

Nancy?”“Ofcourse.Don’tyourecognizeit?”“Just wanted to make sure,” George explained. “We caught someone

snoopinginsideitafewminutesago.”“Wedon’tknowwhat shewasdoing,”Bessadded indignantly,“but she

hadherheadandarmsinsidethewindow.”“Whodid?”Nancyasked,startledandmystified.“Atall,skinnygirlwithsortoflightbrownhair.Butdon’taskuswhoshe

was.Shedidn’twaitaroundtoansweranyquestions.”“I think she saw us coming in the rear-view mirror,” George went on.

“WhenBessandIstartedhurryingtowardthecar,sheranoff.”“Hm.”Nancyconsideredforamoment.“Iguessthere’snothingtoobad

she could do just leaning in the window… unless she was trying to stealsomethingoutoftheglovecompartment.Letmecheck.”

ToNancy’s relief, theglovecompartmentwasstill locked.“Ohwell,noharmdone,Iguess.Justanothermysterytoaddtomycollection.Areyoutwooutshopping,bytheway?”

“Wewere,”Besssaid.“Georgejustboughtanewpairofshoes.Why?”“Caretocometotheartmuseumwithme?”“Sure, sounds like a fun idea!” George spoke up enthusiastically. Bess

agreed.Fiveminutes later, theyarrivedat the imposing,Greek-pillaredmuseum

that was set in a lovely green park. But as theywalked into the lobby, analarmbellsuddenlybeganringingloudly!

5

WeirdIntruders

Abuzzofexcitementfilledthemuseum.Visitorsmilledabout,staringinalldirections. Some turned to query the nearest guard or attendant, but themuseumemployeesseemedasstartledaseveryoneelse.

“What’shappening,Nancy?”Bessexclaimed.“I’venoidea,”herfriendadmittedwithahelplessshrug.Assuddenlyasithadbegun,thealarmbellstoppedringing.Astheechoes

diedaway,acalmingvoicespokeoverthepublic-addresssystem.“Ladiesandgentlemen,thisisthecuratorspeaking.Thereisnoneedtoleavethebuilding,sopleasedonotbealarmed.Whatyouhavejustheardwasamistake—repeat,amistake.Thealarmbellwentoffaccidentally.Weregretanyinconveniencethismayhavecaused,andwehopeyouwillgoonenjoyingyourpublicartmuseumasifnothinghashappened.Thankyou.”

“Whew!That’sarelief,”saidGeorge.Nancysmiledandagreed, thenasked,“Doyoutwowanttolookaround

whileIgotalktothecurator?”“Okay,”Besssaideagerly.“We’llstart in theMedievalandRenaissance

roomsoverthere,andworkourwayaroundtoModern.”Nancywentupabroad,marblestaircasethatarosefromthecenterhallof

themuseum.Onthesecondfloor,shemadeherwaytoasuiteofofficesattherearofthebuilding.

Thebalding,elderlycurator,Mr.Gregory,rosefromhisdesktogreetherashissecretaryannouncedtheprettyyoungsleuth.

“Nancy,howgoodofyoutostopin!It’sapleasuretoseeyou!”“Icertainlyarrivedatanexcitingmoment,”Nancychuckled.Mr.Gregorysmiledruefully.“Repairmenaretestingandreconnectingthe

alarmsystem,whichishowithappenedtogooff.Soinawayit’srelatedtoyourcomingherethismorning.”

Heinvitedhertohaveachairandadded,“Howmuchdoyouknowaboutourbreak-ins?”

“Only the bare facts,” Nancy replied. “There have been two, haven’tthere?”

“Yes,andthecuriousthingisthatnothingwastakenoneitheroccasion.”“Thatisodd,”Nancymused.“Areyousuretheyweren’tjustpranks?”

“Quite sure. The first time, our nightwatchmanwas violently attacked,andthesamethingalmosthappenedduringthesecondbreak-in.”

“Pleasetellmeaboutthem,Mr.Gregory.”The curator explained that, on the first occasion, the intruders were

believedtohavehiddeninthepublicrestroomjustbeforeclosingtime.Thiswas indicated by cigarette ashes and a chewing-gum wrapper which werefoundon the tiled floor nextmorning, even though the rest roomhadbeencleanedbyajanitorattheendofthepreviousday.

“Later,afterthestaffhadleft,theintrudersemergedandoverpoweredthenightwatchman.Theylefthimtiedandgagged.”

“Doyouhaveanyideawhattheydid,orwheretheywent,aftertyingupthewatchman?”Nancyasked.

“At least part of the time they were in the basement storage area.Weknowthatdefinitely,becausethingshadbeenmovedaround.”

Mr.Gregorysaidthatbecauseofthefirstbreak-in,hehadalertedguardsto search all rest-rooms extra carefully just before closing time. Perhapsbecause of this precaution, the intruders resorted to other means for theirsecondbreak-in.

“The alarm system was tampered with. Police Chief McGinnis said itlookedliketheworkofprofessionalburglars.”

“Butagainnothingwastaken?”putinNancy.“Not as far as we could determine. However, soon after midnight, the

watchman thought he heard noises in the basement. When he entered thestorageareatoinvestigate,astackofcratestoppledover.Hecouldhavebeenbadlyhurt.Asitwas,hesufferedabruisedandsprainedshoulder.Wethinkthe accident was contrived, and that the intruders escaped while this washappening.”

As Nancy pondered whatMr. Gregory had just told her, she noticed alarge, framed photograph hanging near his desk. It showed several peoplestandingonthefrontstepsofthemuseum.Fromtheirold-fashionedclothingand theslight fadingandyellowingof thepicture, it appeared tohavebeentakenmanyyearsago.

Ahand-letteredinscriptionatthebottomofthephotographread:CuratorandMembersof theDuvalFamilyat theOpeningof theRiverHeightsArtMuseum,1893.

“TheDuval family!”Nancy exclaimed in surprise. “Are they connectedwiththismuseuminsomeway?”

“Ohyes,indeed.Theydonatedagreatdealofmoneytohelpbuildit.Infact,theyweremovingspiritsinfoundingthemuseum.”

Nancycouldnothelpbeingstruckbytheoddcoincidence—thatjustwhenshe was investigating a mysterious letter written by one of the Duvals,unexplained break-ins should occur at a museum endowed by the same

family.Orwasitnomorethanthat,amerecoincidence?“Tellme,Mr.Gregory,”Nancyaskedonasuddenimpulse,“doyouknow

anythingaboutaMissLouiseDuval?”“LouiseDuval?”Thecuratorfrownedforamoment,thensettledbackin

hischairwithareminiscentsmile.“Yes,asamatteroffactIdo.She’sdeadnow,ofcourse,butwhenIfirstcametoworkhere,Irecallthemanwhowasthenchiefcuratortellingmeaboutatiffhe’dhadwiththeoldlady.”

Mr.Gregory related thatwhen theRiverHeightsArtMuseumhad firstopened,theDuvalfamilyhadcontributedanoilpaintingasastarteritemforthemuseum’scollection.

“The painting was authentically old, mind you, but of no great artisticvalue.Ithunginthemuseumthroughoutthefirsthalfofthiscentury,butwasfinallybanishedtoastoreroomalongwithotherlessimportantartworksthatwe have no room to display. Unfortunately, Miss Duval became incensedwhensheheardthis.”

“Whathappened?”Nancyinquiredkeenly.Mr.Gregoryshrugged.“Sheprotestedveryemphatically,but thecurator

stoodfirm.Hetoldmethathethoughtsheintendedtoconsultsomeoutsideartexpertandtrytoprovethatthepaintingwasimportantenoughtokeepondisplay. But she died later that fall, I’m sorry to say, so nothingmorewasheardonthesubject.”

Nancywasintrigued.IfMissDuvalhadpassedawaysoonafterward,thismeantthattheincidentMr.GregorydescribedmusthavetakenplacethesameyearthatshewrotehermysteriouslettertoPierre’sgrandfather.

And perhaps the painting he referred towas the subject of the researchthatMissDuval’smaidhadmentioned!

“Woulditbepossibletoseethatpainting,Mr.Gregory?”Nancyasked.“ItmaybeconnectedwithanothercaseI’mworkingon.”

“Ofcourse.ButI’mafraiditmaytakeawhiletolocateit.I’llhaveoneofmystaffcheckitoutandletyouknowwhenyoucanviewit.”

Nancy thanked the curator andpromised to applyher detective skills tothemysteryofthepuzzlingbreak-ins.

Whenshereturnedtothemainfloorofthemuseum,shefoundBessandGeorgetalkingtoahandsomeyoungmanintheroomwheremodernworksofartweredisplayed.

“ThisisLeeTalbot,Nancy,”saidGeorgeFayne.“He won first prize at the Riverview Art Show!” Bess added

enthusiastically.“Oh yes, I heard about that.” Nancy smiled as he shook her hand.

“Congratulations!”“Thanks.Toobadyougirlsweren’ttheretoseetheawardceremony.”

Theyoungmanwastall,slim,andcasuallyyettrendilydressedinacable-knitIrishfisherman’ssweateranddesignerjeans.Fromherbreathlessmannerand the admiringway her eyes dwelt on him,Besswas clearly verymuchaware ofLeeTalbot’swavy-haired good looks.And he, in turn, seemed toenjoybeingthecenterofattention.

“Wasitapaintingthatwontheprize?”Nancyaskedhimpolitely.“Yes,IcalleditFelineStillLife!”“Amemorablecomposition,”saidamockingvoiceonNancy’sleft.Sheandhercompanions turnedandsawared-hairedmaninacorduroy

jacket, sport shirt, and slacks. Nancy recognized him as Peter Worden, areporter who wrote on entertainment and art events for the River HeightsRecord.Hehadspokenrathersarcastically,andLeeTalbotrespondedwithanangryscowl.

“Nobodyaskedyouropinion,Worden!”“I’mnotsurprised.YouknowhowIfeelaboutoverdoingasubject,”the

reportersaidcoolly.“Lookingaroundforfreshmaterial,areyou?”Atthisremark,LeeTalbot’sfaceflamedwithrage.Hedoubleduphisfists

andlungedatthereporter!

6

Copycat

Nancyheldherbreath,wonderingwhatwouldhappennext.As the artist came toward him, snarling “Why you—!” Peter Worden

stoodhisground, refusing to flinchorbackaway.HemayormaynothaveexpectedLeeTalbottopunchhim,buthecertainlyshowednosignoffear.Infact,helookedsoconfidentandpreparedfortheattackthatperhapshecausedtheyoungartisttothinktwiceaboutstartingafight.

Whateverthereason,Talbot’shandsslowlyunclenchedandheseemedtobottleuphisanger.Turningtothethreegirls,heapologizedcurtly.“Sorry.Icertainlydon’twant toembarrassyoubycausinganuglyscene,but Idon’tthink I can stand the air pollution around here any longer. ‘Bye for now,girls!”

Jamming his hands in his jeans as if to keep them from turning violentagainsthiswill, theartiststalkedoff towardthemuseumlobby,stillflushedandfuming.

Nancy and her two friends stared after his retreating figure and thenturned,onebyone,tolookatPeterWorden.

Besssaid,“Whatonearthwasthatallabout?”Thenewsmangrinnedsheepishly.“GuessIoweyougirlsanapology,too,

forinterruptingyourchat.Ishouldn’thavesaidwhatIdidtoTalbot.”George,stillpuzzled,said,“Butwhatmadehimsoangry?”Worden shrugged. “It’s a long story. I’m afraid his prize painting

remindedmetoomuchofapictureI’dseenhereinthemuseum.AndImadethemistakeofhintingasmuch.”

Bess looked indignant. “Why, that’s practically saying that he copied!”Sheclearlyfeltprotectivetowardthehandsomeyoungartist.

“NowBess,…”Nancysaidsoothingly.“No,Ididn’taccuseTalbotofcopying,”thereporterresponded.“Butthe

fact remains, his picture did remindme of another painting. You see, theybothportrayedanoddcombinationofsubjects.”

“WhatdidLee’spictureshow?”askedGeorge.“AnEgyptianbust,agraycat,andamooninthebackground.Andunless

I’mverymuchmistaken,sodidanotherpicturethatIoncesawrighthereintheRiverHeightsArtMuseum.”

ThethreegirlsweresomewhattakenabackbyWorden’srevelation.“Golly,”Georgemuttered,“thewayyoudescribeit,Lee’spaintingsounds

eerie!Findingtwolikethatwouldbeprettyunusual!”Thenewsmannodded.“That’sreallywhyIcamehere today…tomake

sureIdidn’tjustdreamthewholethingup.”Nancyturnedtoherfriends.“Dideitherofyounoticesuchapicture?”Whenbothshook theirheads,Nancysaid toWorden,“BessandGeorge

havejustbeengoingthroughthemuseum.Maybeyou’remistaken.”The reporter’s shoulders lifted in a faint shrug. “Could be. But if I’m

wrong,why did he get so upset?You know that old saying, ‘where there’ssmoke,there’sfire.’Anyhow,I’mgoingtostrollonthroughandlookoverthecollection.IalwaysenjoythetimeIspendinhere.”

Nancysmiled.“Iknowwhatyoumean.”After PeterWorden had taken his leave of the three girls, they walked

across the marble lobby and out through the heavy bronze doors into thesunshine.

As they followed a flagstonepath to the parking lot,Bess said, “Gee, Icouldreallygoforamilkshakerightnow.Howaboutyoutwo?”

HercompanionssmiledandGeorgesaid,“Nancy,Icanseethispoorgirl’sabouttofaint.We’dbettergethersomenourishmentfast!”

Each took hold of one of Bess’s arms. Veering off across the museumpark,theywalkedherquicklytoanearbyice-creamparlor,wheretheysankintothenearestbooth,laughingandoutofbreath.

Whiletheywaitedfortheirorderstobeserved,Nancytoldhertwofriendsaboutthemuseumbreak-ins.

“Wow!”exclaimedBess.“Didtheytakeanything,Nancy?”“Apparentlynot.ButIhaveafeelingtheymaybeback.Whichreminds

me,Ihaveaphonecalltomake.Holddownthefortasec.”There was a phone booth in the back of the store. Slipping in a coin,

NancydialedEmilyOwsler’snumber.Fortunatelytheretiredmaidwashome,and she remembered how angry LouiseDuval had beenwhen the paintingdonatedbyherfamilywastakenoffthemuseumwall.

“CouldMissDuval’s researchprojecthavehadanything todowith thatpainting?”Nancyasked.

EmilyOwslerwassilentamomentbeforereplying.“Well,notthatIknowof.IremembershecalledinsomefamousartexpertfromNewYorkaboutthepainting. She wanted to get back at the museum curator and prove thepaintingwasmorevaluable thanherealized.But thisforeignresearch thingwasdifferent.Shewasverysecretiveaboutthat.”

With a sigh, themaid ended, “It’s too bad, dear, that I can’t remembermoreaboutit.IwishIcouldhelpyou.”

“You already have, Miss Owsler,” Nancy said gratefully. On a sudden

inspiration,sheadded,“Andmaybeyoucanhelpmeabitmore.CouldyoutellmewhatotherinterestsMissDuvalhad?”

“Of course.Shewas just crazy aboutplayingbridge.Shebelonged to aclubthatwasmadeupofthebestwomenbridge-playersinandaroundRiverHeights.”

“Oh,great.Idon’tsupposeyou’dknowifanyofthemarestillalive?”“AsamatteroffactIdo,Nancy.Yousee,theyusedtotaketurnsplaying

in each other’s homes, so I got to see them all quite frequently, and Iremember one who was quite a bit younger than the others. Mrs. LeonFerbury,hernamewas.”

“Andyouthinkshemaystillbealive?”Nancyaskedeagerly.“Oh, I know she is,” Emily Owsler declared. “I saw her picture in the

paperjustrecently.Shewasgivingacharityball.”Nancythankedtheformermaidandhungupwithafeelingoffreshhope.

ThenshewentbacktotheboothtoenjoyherchocolatemilkshakewithBessandGeorge.

Afterdrivingherfriendshome,Nancyturnedwestwardacrosstowninthedirection of PierreMichaud’s workshop. She felt it was time to report herprogressonthecasesofar.ShethoughtPierrewouldbeespeciallyinterestedin hearing about Lisa Thorpe, and to learn that the attractive girl was stillwillingtohelphim.

Nancy parked on the cement apron outside the two-story brick buildingandwent in.NyraBetz,wearingagreenpantsuit, lookedup fromherdeskwithascornfulsniff.

“Oh,backsosoon?”Ignoring the girl’s catty tone, Nancy merely smiled and nodded. But

suddenly Nyra seemed to lose her unfriendly attitude. Her glowering facetookonasly,amusedlookasifshewereenjoyingsomesecretjoke.

Nancywas puzzled by her change in expression.Before she could taketimetofathomwhatmightbegoingoninNyra’shead,however,Pierrecamestridingoutofthebackroom.Hehadonashopaprontoprotecthisshirtandslacks,andwascarryingatoolboxinonehand.

“Ah, bonjour,Nancy!” he exclaimed eagerly on seeing the titian-hairedyoungsleuth.“Whatgoodnewsdoyoubringus?”

“Nothingverydramatic,”shechuckled.“JustthoughtI’dbringyouuptodateonwhat’shappenedsofar.”

“Excellent!Itisalmostnoon,sowhynottellmeoverlunch?”Nancy hesitated, slightly embarrassed that she had dropped in without

thinkingofthetime.“Actually,Ijusthadamilkshake…”“Nomatter,” Pierre cut inwith a smile before she could refuse. “If the

fooddoesnot temptyou, simply talk and I shall listen. Just giveme a fewmomentstofinishwhatIwasdoing.”

The Frenchman explained that he was assembling a desktop computermodel containing his new memory device. Nancy watched him install itscover,theninsertandtightenthescrewstoholditinplace.Shecouldnothelpadmiringhisdeft,preciseworkmanshipwithtools.

“Toutfini!”heannouncedpresently,thenexcusedhimselftogoandwashup.When he returned, he had shed his apron and put on a tie and sportsjacket.“Shallwego?”

NancyfeltNyra’seyesburningaholeinherbackastheywentoutoftheworkshop.

Pierre gallantly held the driver’s-side door open while Nancy slid inbehindthewheel,thenwentaroundthecartogetinhimself.

NancyhadjuststartedtheengineandwasshiftingintodrivewhenPierreexclaimedangrily,“Stop!Letmegetout!”

7

TheSecretSeal

Pierreflungopenthecardoor,jumpedout,andslammeditbehindhim.Thenhestrodeoffintohisworkshop.

Nancy was mystified by the young Frenchman’s sudden rudeness. Upuntil this moment, he had always behaved with the utmost gallantry andpoliteness.Somethingmusthaveupsethim,sherealized.IsupposeI’dbetterfindoutwhat’swrong.

Withasigh,sheswitchedofftheignition,gotout,andfollowedhimintothe workshop. Pierre was standing with his back to the door, running hishandsthroughatrayofelectronicparts.Fromthewayhewouldpickoneupandtossitdownagain,helookedasthoughhewastryingtogethistemperundercontrol.

NyraBetzwasstillseatedatthetypewriter,tappingthekeysasifunawarethatanythingunusualhadhappened.Butfromhersmug,sidelongglanceasNancy entered theworkshop and her poisonous, purse-lipped little smile, itwasclearthatshewasthoroughlyenjoyingthesituation.

“Doyoumindtellingmewhat’swrong,Pierre?”Nancyinquiredmildly.Heswungaroundtofaceher,stillflushedandfuming.“Areyouimplying

youdon’tknow?”“I’mafraidIhaven’tthevaguestidea.”“Tresbien,Ishallshowyou!”He strode out the door again, towardNancy’s trim, blue sports car. She

followedhimoutside.Pullingopenthepassengerdoor,hepointedaccusinglytoward the instrumentpanel. “Perhapsyouwouldcare toexplain this,MissDrew!”

AtfirstNancycouldnotimaginewhathewastalkingabout.Butwhenshewentaroundtotheothersideofthecarandslidinbehindthewheel,shesawthathisfingerwasjabbingatasmall,blue-and-whitesticker.ItborethenameDATA-LINC,writteninstylizedscriptasifitwereatrademark.

“Where on earth did that come from?” Nancy murmured in surprise.Whenshescratcheditwithherfingernail,shesawthatitwasheldinplacebytransparenttape.

“Areyoutrying tomakemebelieveyouknownothingabout it?”Pierredemandedsuspiciously.

“I’mnottryingtomakeyoubelieveanything.Ineverevennoticedituntilyoupointeditout.”

“ThenhowdidthatData-Lincsealgetthere?”“Hm, good question.” By now,Nancy had peeled off the tape andwas

examining the small piece of paper bearing the blue-and-white name oremblem. “Looks as though it might have been cut off an envelope orletterhead.”

Suddenlyshegaspedandshotastartledglanceat theyoungFrenchman.“Waitaminute!I’vejustrememberedsomething!”

“Indeed?Andwhatisthat,mayIask?”Nancyrelatedhowhertwofriendshadseenanunknowngirlpokinginto

hercarthatmorning.“Iassumedshewasprobablytryingtostealsomething,but couldn’t becausemy glove compartmentwas locked.Now it’s obviousshemusthavebeenstickingthisonthedashboard.”

“Butwhy?Canyouanswermethat?”“Not yet,” Nancy said coolly, “but I might be able to make a guess if

you’dtellmefirstwhythesightofthismadeyousoangry.”“I will certainly tell you,” Pierre replied. “Data-Linc is the name of a

computercompanywhichhadtriedagainandagaintosnooponmyworkandharass me in every way possible. They know that as soon as mymemorydevicecomesonthemarket,itwillmaketheirownproductsoutofdate.Sonaturallytheywishtostopmeatanycost.”

Nancynoddedthoughtfully.“Isee.”“Ifyouareworkingforthatcontemptiblecompany,”hewentoninasharp

voice,“Iwouldpreferthatyoudropmycaseatonce!”ItwasclearthathesuspectedNancyofindustrialespionage.Nodoubther

investigationof theDuvalmysteryseemed toPierre likeaperfectcover forsnoopingonhiscomputerwork.

Theyoungsleuthsmiled.“Don’tworry,I’veneverevenheardoftheData-LincCompanybefore.”

Pierre’sangryexpressiongavewaytoapuzzledfrown.Nancysensedthathe wanted very much to believe her but was still afraid that he might befooled. “And how do you explain the girl sticking that Data-Linc embleminsideyourcar?”hequeried.

“Someonewantedtogetmeintrouble,”Nancyrepliedwithashrug,“bymakingitlookasthoughIhadsomeconnectionwithData-Linc.Whoeverdidithopedtomakeyousosuspiciousthatyou’dtellmetostopinvestigatingtheDuvalmystery.Andtheplannearlyworked.”

Privately, shewas thinking that themischiefmaker had to be someoneclose enough to Pierre to know about his trouble with the Data-LincCompany. Nancy reflected that this made Nyra Betz a prime suspect,especially since she seemed so jealous and resentful of Nancy’s close

investigatingrelationshipwiththehandsomeFrenchman.Infact,themoreNancythoughtaboutit,thebetterNyraseemedtofitthe

role. She could have cut the emblemoff an envelope or advertisement andcarried itaround inherpurse,alongwitha rollof tape, justwaiting for theright opportunity. And on seeing Nancy’s car parked on the street thatmorning,shecouldhaveseizedherchance.

Bess’s description of the culprit as “a tall, skinny girlwith sort of lightbrownhair”certainlyfittedNyraBetztoaT!

Meanwhile, Pierre’s frown was slowly changing, first to bewilderment,then to a sheepish grin. “I fear that I have made a very foolish and hastymistake,”hesaidwithacontritebow.

“Canyoupossiblyforgiveme,MissDrew?”Nancy’s blue eyes twinkled. “Okay, you’re forgiven … that is, if you

promise to go on being suspicious of anything out of the ordinary, at leastuntil we get to the bottom of this mystery. Now, how about finding arestaurant?I’mfamished!”

Pierresmiledback.“Iinsistthatyoubemyguest!”Astheydroveaway,NancyglimpsedNyraBetzwatchingthemfromone

oftheworkshopwindows.Shelookedfurious.Over a delicious lunch of chicken and avocado salad, the young sleuth

filled Pierre in on the events since she had taken over the case.AsNancyexpected, he was especially interested in hearing about Lisa Thorpe andpleasedbythenewsthatshestillwantedtohelphim.

Pierreinturnrelatedthathisfinancialbacker,Mr.Varney,wascomingtotheworkshoptomorrow.HeinvitedNancytomeethim.

“Thanks,I’dliketoverymuch,”shereplied.“IshefromNewYorkCity?”“Hemaybe.Iamnotsure.Thatiswherehefirstgotintouchwithme,but

nowthatyoumentionit,Iamnotsurewherehisofficeislocated.AsImayhavementioned,heseemsaverymodest,retiringsortofperson.”

PierreexplainedthatVarney’smaininterestinlifeappearedtobehelpingstruggling young scientists and inventors turn their ideas into successfulbusinesses.Aslongashisinvestmentofmoneypaidoff,heseemedcontenttoremaininthebackground.

After driving Pierre back to his workshop, Nancy found a publictelephone. Leafing through the directory, she looked up the name of thewomanwhom themaid, Emily Owsler, had said was a member of LouiseDuval’sbridgeclub.

Mrs.LeonFerburyherselfansweredNancy’sring.Shesoundeddelightedat theyoungsleuth’sphonecall.“Why,ofcourse,MissDrew,”shegushed.“I’llbegladtotellyouanythingIcanaboutmydearfriendLouise.HowsoonshallIexpectyou?”

“In about the tenminutes it’ll takeme to drive to your house,” Nancy

respondedwithasmile,“ifthat’sconvenient.”“Splendid!”Mrs. Ferbury turned out to be a stout, bright-eyedwomanwith a lively

manner and hair so golden that Nancy suspected its color could only havecomeoutofabottle.Buthermannerwaswarmandsincere.

“Howexcitingtobeinterviewedbysuchafamousyoungdetective!Dositdown,dear,whileIringfortea.AndI’msureyou’dlikeafewlittlecakestonibbleon.”

Nancysmiledandshookherhead.“Thanks,butIjustfinishedlunchnotlongbeforeIcalled.”

“Allthebetter!You’lllovethese,they’redeliciouslittlepetitsfours!”Nancyexplainedthatshewas lookingintoamysteriousresearchproject

whichLouiseDuvalhadembarkedonshortlybeforeherdeath.“Ohyes,Iknowexactlywhatyoumean,”saidMrs.Ferbury.“PoorLouise

wasconstantlydroppinghintsaboutit.”“Thenyouknowwhattheprojectconcerned?”Nancyinquiredeagerly.“Ah,no,I’mafraidnot.OnecouldseethatLouisewaspracticallybursting

totellourbridgecluballaboutit.Butshewasdeterminedtokeephersecretuntil all thedetailswereworkedout.Onceher researchmancompleted theproject,however—ohmy!ThenIfeelsureLouisewouldhavemadeitaveryexcitingoccasionwhensheannouncedtheresults!”

“Idon’tsupposeyouhappentoknowwhothemanwas?”“Oh, but of course I do, my dear! He was a professor at Westmoor

University.Letmeseenow…whatwashisname?”Mrs.Ferbury frownedandfingeredherfluffygoldenhair,thenshowedherteethinasuddensmile.“Oh, yes, yes, of course—I knew it would come back to me! ProfessorCrawford,hisnamewas!”

Nancy felt a thrill of excitement. “Thanks ever somuch,Mrs. Ferbury.You’vebeenatremendoushelp!”

Before following up this new clue, NancyDrew had another importantmatter to attend to. An idea had gradually been taking shape in her mindabouthowtocatchthemuseumintruders.Butinordertohaveanychanceofsuccess,herschemewouldhavetobetriedpromptly.

HerbluecarwhizzedthroughthestreetsofRiverHeightsandsoonturnedinto the parking lot adjoining the museum building. Hurrying inside, shemadeherwaytothecurator’sofficeonthesecondfloor.

Asshewalkedin,Mr.Gregoryrosetohisfeetandbeamedattheyoungdetective. “You certainly have an uncanny sense of timing, Nancy!” heannounced.

“Ididn’thearanyalarmgooffwhenIwalkedinthelobby,”shechuckled.“Whatisitthistime?”

“Mystaffhasjustdiscoveredwhatthosemysteriousintruderswereafter.”

Nancywas startled. “Congratulations!” she said. “Itwas some valuableiteminthemuseum’scollection,Ipresume?”

The curator shrugged. “Well, yes and no. They were after a painting,thoughI’mnotsurehowvaluableitis.Tobeprecise,it’sthepaintingthatwaspresentedbytheDuvalfamilywhenthemuseumfirstopened.”

8

ADangerousPlan

Nancycaughtherbreathinsurprise.TheDuvalfamilyagain!Thishadtobemorethanacoincidence,shefelt.

“How did you staff find out the intruders were trying to steal thatparticularpainting?”sheaskedthecurator.

“Becauseit’sgone.”Nancywasdismayed at this unexpectednews.Nowmore than ever she

wasconvincedthatthestolenpaintingmustbeconnectedinsomewaywiththe mystery of Louise Duval’s letter to Pierre’s grandfather. But with thepicturegone,shemightneverlearnwhatlinkedthetwocases.

“Exactlyhowwastherobberydiscovered?”sheasked,probingforaclue.Mr.Gregoryexplainedthatwhenthestackofcrateswasknockedoverin

thebasementstorageareaduringthesecondbreak-in,severalweresmashedopenandtheircontentsspilledout.

“Itwas rather amess,” hewent on, “especially since thewhole storagearea is littered and long overdue for a cleanup. Anyhow, to make sureeverythingwasrestoredtoitsproperplace,mystaffhadtocheckandmakesureeachitemgotputbackwhereitbelonged.”

“Howdidtheydothat?”“Whenanythingisassignedtostorage,”Mr.Gregoryreplied,“it’slogged

byitsnumberinthemuseumcollection.Itsstoragelocationisalsoenteredinthelogbook,andbythatImeanthecrateorrackorshelfonwhichtheobjectwillbeplaced. I’dalreadyasked thestaffers tobringup theDuvalpaintingfor you to look at, so while they were going through the logbook, theydecided to attend to that at the same time. But when they went to get thepainting,theyfoundoutitwasmissingfromitsslotintherack.”

Nancy knit her brow thoughtfully. “If that’s the case, the robbers mayhave taken other things too,” she said, “but perhaps your staff just hasn’tdiscoveredthey’remissingyet.”

The balding curator nodded. “That’s possible, of course. But, you see,something else happened which also indicates the thieves were after theDuvalpainting.”

“Whatwasthat?”Nancyinquiredwithkeeninterest.“Oneofmystaffassistants,MissHeron,nowtellsmeshehadaphonecall

aboutitontheafternoonbeforethesecondbreak-in.”Mr.Gregory related that the caller had askedwhere theDuval painting

washung,sayinghehadlookedforitduringarecentvisittothemuseumbuthadn’tbeenabletofindit.MissHerontheninformedhimthatthepicturewasnolongerondisplay,thatithadbeentakendowntothebasementstorageareasomeyearsago.

“Thiscouldhavebeenwhatledtheintruderstosearchthestorageroom,”thecuratorsurmised.

Nancywasinclinedtoagree.“Actually,Icametoofferasuggestion.Butfromwhatyou’vejusttoldme,Iguessit’stoolatetodoanygood,”sheaddedwitharuefulsmile.

“Whatdidyouhaveinmind,Nancy?”Beforetheprettyyoungsleuthcouldreply,therewasaknockonthedoor.“Excusemeamoment,”Mr.Gregorysaidtoher,thencalledout,“Come

in!”Anattractiveyoungwomanwithcurlydarkhairopenedthedoor.Shewas

wearingaratherrumpled,soiled-lookingsmockwiththesleevespusheduptoher elbows. On seeing Nancy, she apologized for interrupting, and Mr.Gregory introducedher as the staff assistant hehadmentioned earlier, JaneHeron.

“I’mafraidwemisinformedyouabout theDuvalpainting,”she told thecurator.

Hiseyebrowsliftedinsurprise.“You’vefoundit?”“No, but this afternoon we’ve discovered that other paintings and art

objectsarealsomissingfromtheirproperplaces.Andsomehaveturnedupinthewrongplaces.”

Mr. Gregory frowned in annoyance. “That sounds as though the wholestoragearea’sinastateofmixup.”

“I’m afraid so,”MissHeron agreed. “Whoever broke in the other nightmaybepartlyresponsible,butI’dsayeverythingdownthere’sgottenprettydisorderedover theyears.Sowewon’t reallyknowif theDuvalpainting ismissinguntileverything’sbeensortedout.”

Underthecircumstances,Nancydecidedtotellthecuratortheideawhichshe had come to suggest in the first place. Before doing so, however, shewaiteduntilMissHeronlefttheoffice.Thensheaskedifhehadconsideredthepossibilitythatthebreak-insmightbeaninsidejob,withsomeoneatthemuseumhelpingtheintruders.

Mr. Gregory nodded gloomily. “Yes, there’s always that chance, I’mafraid.Whydoyouask?”

“Supposeyouleton,bothtothestaffandtothepublic,thattherepairmenhaverunintotrouble,andthealarmsystemisn’tfixedyet.”

“Youmeanasbait,totemptthethievesintotryingagain?”

“Exactly! And I’ll keep watch in the museum tonight myself,” Nancywenton,“toseeiftheydocomeback.”

The curator looked worried. “Nancy, what you’re suggesting could bedangerous—verydangerous!”

“Not really, Mr. Gregory. I’ll bring a friend or two along to keep mecompany, and if anemergency shouldarise,we’ll call forhelpatonce.Wecan keep in touchwith the nightwatchman bywalkie-talkie, and also stayclosetoaphonesowecanringthepoliceifnecessary.”

Somewhat reluctantly, the curator agreed to her plan. He said therepairmenexpectedtohavethealarmsystembackinworkingorderbymid-afternoon,buthewouldarrangeprivatelytohavethemstayontilltheendofthe day. He would also tell them to leave their ladders and other workingparaphernaliainplace,andgooffgrumblingandshakingtheirheads,soastogivetheimpressionthattheyhadencounteredunforeseendifficultiesthatkeptthemfromfinishingthejobandhookingupthealarmagain.

Nancy saidgood-bye toMr.Gregoryandwentbackdown to the lobby,hopefulthatherplanwouldproducepromptresults.

Coming out of the museum, she glimpsed a figure standing in the busshelter, just beyond the green parklike stretch of lawn. He seemed to bewatchingthemuseumentrance.Themanlookedfamiliar.

Nancypausedtostaremorecarefully,thengasped.It’sthatswarthythugagain!sherealized.Theonewhokeepsspyingonme!

ThistimeNancydecidednottolethimgetaway.Shestartedboldlydownthefrontwalkofthemuseum,headingtowardthebusshelter.Butthedark-visagedspysawhercoming.Withascowl,hedartedoffacrossthestreet.

BeforeNancycouldreachthecornerandcross,thetrafficlightturnedredagainst her. Vehicles rumbled across the intersection, blocking her path ofpursuit.Bynow,theswarthymanwasfastdisappearingfromviewamongthepassersbyontheotherside.

Nancy realized she had no chance of catching himnow.With a sigh ofannoyance,shegaveupandturnedbacktowardthemuseumparkinglot.

Drivinghome,NancylookedforwardtoahotcupofHannah’sskillfullybrewedtea.Tohersurpriseanddelight,shefoundBessMarvinandGeorgeFaynewaitingforherinthelivingroom.

“Anyexcitingdevelopments?”Georgeaskedwithatwinkle.“Howwouldyouliketohelpmecatchsomecrooks?”Nancyproposed.Herwordsbroughtbothgirlsinstantlytoattention.“Gee,Nancy!Whatdoyouwantustodo?”askedBess,openingherblue

eyeswide.“Tellyou inaminute.First, though,doyouremember thatgirlyousaw

pokingintomycarthismorning?”Bessnodded.“Surewedo.Whatabouther?”

“Canyourecallwhatshewaswearing?”After a moment’s thought, Bess and George agreed that she had been

wearingagreenpantsuit.ThisconfirmedNancy’shunchthattheculpritwasprobablyNyraBetz.

Thentheyoungdetectivedescribedherplantostakeouttheartmuseumthat night. She asked if her friends would like to help her keep watch forpossibleintruders.BessandGeorgeeagerlyagreed.

Thethreegirlsenjoyedarelaxingafternoontea.Later,theyallpiledintoNancy’scar.Shedroppedthetwocousinsoffattheirhomestogetreadyfortheirnightwatchsession.ThenshedrovetonearbyWestmoorU.tofollowuptheleadMrs.Ferburyhadgivenher.

Nancy was already acquainted with some of the faculty members atWestmoor.On thisoccasion,however, anunexpectedobstaclewas in store.The dean of students informed her that Professor Crawford, a historyinstructor,hadpassedawayseveralyearsago.

Nancy’sfaceshowedherdisappointment.“Oh,dear!Isthereanyoneelsewhomightbeabletoanswersomequestionsabouthiswork?”

“Hm,well,IsupposethebestpersontoaskmightbeProfessorSchmidt.He’s thepersonwho tookoverProfessorCrawford’sposition in thehistorydepartment.”

ProfessorSchmidtturnedouttobeafriendly,pipe-smoking,middle-agedman. ButwhenNancy asked him if he had any ideawhat sort of researchworkProfessorCrawfordmighthavedoneforthelateMissDuval,heshookhishead.

“I’msorry,butIreallyhavenoidea.”Headdedafteramoment’sthought,“Onewould imagine,of course, that itwouldhaveconcernedhisparticularspecialty.”

“Whatwasthat?”Nancyinquired.“He specialized in the history of the French Revolution and the

NapoleonicWars.”Nancyfeltasurgeofhope.“Roughly,thatwouldbearound1800?”ProfessorSchmidtnodded.“Yes,bothbeforeandafterthatdate.Sayfrom

the1780sto1815.”ThiswasaboutthetimethatLouiseDuval’sancestress,YvetteDuval,had

immigratedtoAmericaandsettledinRiverHeights!Professor Schmidt frowned as he paused to reload his pipe. “Perhaps if

youspoketoProfessorCrawford’sdaughter,”hewenton,“shemightbeabletosupplytheinformationyouneed.”

“DoyouknowhowIcouldgetintouchwithher?”askedNancy,crossingherfingers.

“Yes,shelivesnottoofarfromhere.IthinkIhaveheraddressinmydeskbook.”

Nancydrovehome,feelingmuchencouraged.Overthedinnertable,shetoldherfatherandHannahGruenabouttheday’sevents.

“Whynotask the townhistoricalsocietyabout thatFrenchcouple?” thehousekeeper suggested. “They have all sorts of information about the earlysettlersinRiverHeights.”

Nancybeamed.“Hannah,that’sawonderfulidea!Inevereventhoughtofthat.”

Afterdinner,shepickeduphertwofriendsanddrovetotheartmuseum.However, instead of parking in themuseum lotNancy left her car a blockaway,andtheyapproachedthebuildingonfoot.Itwasalreadytwilight,buttomakedoublysurenooneobservedthem,thetriowenttothebackdoorofthemuseuminthegatheringdarkness.

The nightwatchman answered their knock and opened the heavymetaldoor.“‘Evening,girls.Sureyouwanttogothroughwiththisscheme?”

Nancysmiled.“Quitesure,Mr.Baxter.Ifwecankeepintouchwithyou,Ithinkwe’llbeokay.”

Shaking his head dubiously, the watchman took them down to thebasement storagearea.Before leaving themalone,heprovided themwithawalkie-talkiewhichtheycouldusetocallhim.

Thevast,cement-walledroomwascarefullyair-conditioned.Justnow,itwasstrewnwithcrates,aswellaswrappings thathadbeen removedby thestaffinordertocheckoutindividualpaintingsandotherstoredartobjects.

Forawhile, the itemswere interesting to lookover.Butas timepassed,thegirlssettleddowntochatandsipcoffeefromThermosestheyhadbroughttohelpkeepawake.

SuddenlyGeorgesatuprightandraisedherhandforsilence.“Whatwasthat?”shewhispered.

Clank…clank…clank.Faint,metallicfootstepscouldbeheardcomingdownthehallway!

9

SpookinArmor

Wide-eyed,thegirlslookedateachotherinalarm.Shakily,Besswhispered,“Oh,Nancy,quick,callMr.Baxter!”

George,white-faced andnervouswithher eyes glued to thedoor to thecorridor,chimedin,“That’sagoodidea!”

Nancy switched on the walkie-talkie and spoke to the night watchman.“Mr.Baxter,thisisNancyDrew.Comequickly,please!”

Therewasnoresponse.Theclankingfootstepshadstoppedandthedoorknobwasslowlyturning

asshecalledmoreurgently,“Mr.Baxter!Someone’scomingintothestorageroom!Answerplease!”

Againtherewasnoreplyfromthewalkietalkie.Transfixedwithfright,thethreegirls

watched as the door swung open. They could hardly believewhat theysawnext.

Themetal-shodintruderwhoclankedslowlyintotheroomwasaghostlyfigureinarmor!

Earlier in the evening, after looking over the paintings and uncrated artobjects, thegirlshadshutoffallexceptoneofthebrightfluorescentceilinglights.Theshadowygloomadded to thespookyappearanceof theirstrange

visitor.“Oh,no!”Bessgulpedinasqueakywhisper.“Wemustbeseeingthings!”In one gauntleted fist, the spectral knight was clutching a halberd, a

spearlikeweaponwithabroadaxclose to itspointed tip.Thefigure’svisorwasdown,preventingthemfromseeinganyfaceinsidethehelmet.

Bess and George backed away in terror as the armoured specter camestalking toward them. Suddenly it swung the long weapon, knocking thewalkie-talkieoutofNancy’shandwiththeflatsideoftheaxblade!

Herownkneesweakwithfright,Nancyyieldedtopanicandfollowedhertwofriends.Thegirlsretreatedintoasmallsideroomusedforrecord-keepingandfiling.Buttheywerestillnotsafe,astheyquicklydiscoveredwhentheytriedtolockthedoor.

“There’sn-n-nokey!”Georgehissed,fumblingfranticallyinthedark.In desperation, all three girls leaned against the door,waiting to hold it

shutshouldtheweirdintrudertrytocomeafterthem.Minutespassedand…nothinghappened!Bythistime,Nancyhadregainedhercalm.Bravelyshedecidedtoopen

thedoorandconfrontthearmoredspook.“No,Nancy!”Bessbegged.“Don’tgoout there!Let’s justwait inhere.

Maybeit’llgoaway!”“Don’tworry,I’llbecareful,”Nancypromised.Puttingherfingerstoher

lips,sheslowlyopenedthedoorandpeekedout.Thefigureinarmorwasjustturningawaywithafaintchuckle,evidently

satisfied that he had frightened the three girls enough to keep them fromgivinghimanytrouble.Hehadlaiddownhishalberdonacratejustbehindhim,andnowwasabouttolookthroughsomeofthepaintings.

Ifonlyshecouldreachthehalberdwithoutbeingheard!Taking a deep breath, Nancy tiptoed back into the main storage room.

Stepbystep,shecreptstealthilytowardtheweapon.Justasshereachedoutandputherhandonthehalberd,theghostlyknight

turned!Hehadpushedupthevisorofhishelmet,andapairofeyesglitteredfiendishlyoutather!

SwiftlyNancy snatchedup theweaponand swung it.The flatof theaxsmackedagainsttheknight’shelmet,staggeringhim!

Helurchedtowardthedoor,apparentlydazed.Nancydartedinpursuitandwhackedhimagain,thistimealmostknockinghimdown.Buthemanagedtoplungeoutthedoorandslamitshutbehindhim!

Nancy uttered a faint groan of dismay as she tried the knob again andagainbutcouldnotturnit.Bythistime,GeorgeandBesshadventuredoutoftheirhidingplaceandwerehurryingtojoinher.

“We’relockedin!”shetoldthem.“Ohgolly,Nancy,youweresobrave!Iwastoopetrifiedtodoanything!”

Besssaid.“Samehere,”Georgeadmittedabitsheepishly.Puttingherhandsonher

hips,shegazedallaround,lookingforanotherexitthroughwhichtheymightreachthestairwayleadinguptothemainfloor.“Whatdowedonow,sitandwait?”

Nancy shook her head vigorously. “No, I’m going to get this dooropened!”

“How?”askedBess,nonetoohopefully.“Justletmegetmypurse,andmaybeIcanshowyou.”HerfriendsfollowedNancyacrosstheroomtowheretheyhadleft their

purses on one of theworktables.Then the other twowatched as she beganrummagingthroughherbag.

“Whatareyoulookingfor,Nancy?”askedGeorge.“Oh,gosh…abobbypin,ahairpin,anailfile,”Nancysaidassheemptied

outthecontentsofherbrownleathershoulderbag.“SomethingIcanusetopickthatdoorlock.”

BessandGeorgenowfollowedsuitandbegantosearchtheirownbags.“Imightjusthaveabobbypininheresomewhere,”Besssaid.“It’sbeen

solongsinceIemptiedthisout….”Hervoicetrailedoff.“Eureka!Thismaydoit,”Nancyexclaimed,holdingupapaperclip.Goingback to thedoor, sheunbent the clip and insertedone end in the

lock.Thenshebegantoprobedelicately,movingthewirethiswayandthat.Aftermanybreathlessmoments,thethreeheardaclick!Nancy removed the paper clip, then turned toBess andGeorge, putting

onefingertoherlips.“Idoubtifthatspookisstilloutthere,butlet’snottakeanychances.”

Veryquietly,sheopenedthedooracrackandpeeredout.Shecouldseenooneinthecorridor.Encouraged,shecautiouslypushedthedooropentherestoftheway.

Theirunpleasantvisitorwasgone.“Thankheavens!”Georgebreathedinrelief.Theonlytraceleftofthephantomknightwasacarelesslydiscardedpile

ofarmor.Nancytelephonedthepolice.Then,confidentthattheintruderorintruders

hadfled,thegirlsbeganahastysearchforthemissingwatchman.Theyfoundhim on the second floor as they passed the open doorway of the curator’soffice.

“Thereheis!”Bessgaspedfearfully.Mr.Baxterlaysprawledonthefloornearthecurator’sdesk.Therewere

twotelephonesonthedesk.Thereceiverofonewashangingovertheedge,danglingattheendofitscord.

The girls hurried to attend to the unconscious watchman. George knelt

besidetheelderlymanandfelthispulse.“Isheallright?”hercousinasked,holdingonehandpressedanxiouslyto

hercheekasshewatched.Georgenodded.“Ithinkso.Smellsasifhe’sbeenchloroformedorgiven

ether.”Nancyhurriedofftothewaterfountaininthecorridorandmoistenedher

handkerchief. Just as she returned to theoffice,Mr.Baxterbegan togroan.George raised his head and shoulders slightly while Nancy bathed hisforeheadwiththecool,dampcloth.

Presently thewatchman’seyesflickeredopenandhestruggled tositup.Oncehehadgottenhisbearings,hetoldthegirlsthatwhilehewaspatrolinginsidethebuilding,hehadheardthephoneringinginthecurator’soffice.

“I went in to answer it, and just as I picked up the receiver, someonegrabbedmeinabearhugfrombehind.Thenanotherguyheldaclothovermynoseandmouth.That’sthatlastIrememberuntilnow.”

Atthegirls’insistence,theelderlymansatrestinginanarmchairuntilthepolicearrived.

Acruiserwasfirstonthescene,followedsoonafterwardbyasquadcarfrompoliceheadquarters.Twodetectiveslistenedcarefullytothegirls’storyand promised that the armor would be dusted for fingerprints. Then auniformedofficerescortedthemtoNancy’sparkedcar.Theyoungpolicemaneven wanted to have the cruiser shepherd them safely home, but Nancylaughinglydeclined.

Nextmorningoverabreakfastofsausagesandpancakes,NancytoldherfatherandHannahaboutthenight’seventsatthemuseum.

CarsonDrew looked thoughtful and remarked, “Ibelieve I’lldrop inonPoliceChiefMcGinnistodayandseewhatthey’vefoundout.”

Thehousekeeper’skindlyfacehadtakenonaworriedexpression.“Nancy,thiscasesoundsasthoughit’sgettingdangerous,”shesaid.

Thesleuthgrinnedacrossthetable.“Notreally.It’sjustgettingexciting.”Afewmoments latershefinishedhercoffee,gotupfromherchair,and

kissedher fathergood-bye.“I’mgoing to followyoursuggestion,Hannah,”Nancyannounced,“andpayavisittotheRiverHeightsHistoricalSociety.”

Soonafterward,shewaspullinguphercarinfrontofitsdestination.Thehistorical society was housed appropriately in an old Victorian mansionbequeathedtoitbyalong-deadmember.

Inside,Nancywas greeted by the friendly,white-haired secretary of thesociety,Mr.GeorgeTeakin.Helistenedtoherrequestandseemeddelightedatachancetohelpthefamousyoungdetective.

“Letmejustmakeanoteofwhatyou’reafter,”hesaid,pullingasmall,leather-boundnotebookoutofhiscoatpocket.Afterjottingdownthedetails,headded,“Thismaytakeawhile,MissDrew,butI’llcheckthroughall the

oldnewspapersofthatperiodandseeifIcanfindanynewsitemsabouttheDuvals.”

“I’dreallyappreciateit,Mr.Teakin.Thankyoueversomuch.”Slippingbehindthewheelofhersportscaragain,Nancyheadedbackto

the River Heights Art Museum. As she drove through the busy morningstreets,shereviewedlastnight’shappeningsinhermind.

IfonlyI’dbeenabletocatchthatcrookinarmor,shethought,I’dhavetheanswertoonemysteryrightnow!

Arriving at themuseum,Nancy inquired forMr. Gregory andwas toldthat hewasdown in thebasement storage area. In a fewmoments shewasopeningthedoorofthebig,brightlylit,cement-walledroom.

The curatorwas nowhere in sight, but a dark-haired youngwoman in asmock was sorting out a group of paintings. Nancy recognized her as hisassistant,JaneHeron.

“IsMr.Gregoryaround?”Nancyasked,walkingtowardher.MissHeronlookedupandgreetedherwithasmile.“Hewasherejusta

minuteago,”shereplied.“Hemusthavesteppedoutsomewhere.”Nancy caught her breath as she suddenly noticed a painting which the

curator’sassistanthadjustlaidaside.Itshowedasphinxlikestatuetteandagraycatinadesertlandscape,with

themoonrisingeerilybehindthem!

10

DamagingEvidence

Nancywasastonished.Sheknewatoncethatthismustbethepaintingwhichthereporter,PeterWorden,haddescribedtoherandherfriends.

No wonder he had spoken out so frankly and refused to back down,despitetheartist’sangryindignation!

ThepicturewassmallandseemedtoNancynotveryimpressiveinstyleand artistry. Itmight not have even lookedmuch like the painting that hadwon Lee Talbot first prize at the RiverviewArt Show. But ifWordenwastelling the truth, the choice of those same three subjects—anEgyptian bustandagraycat,withthemooninthebackground—wasattheveryleastanoddcoincidence.

Butwhatshouldshedoaboutit?Nancywastroubled.Shehadnowishtobecomeinvolvedinanuglyname-callingdispute.Ontheotherhand,ifLeeTalbothaddeliberatelycopiedanotherartist’swork,itseemedunfairthatheshouldwinfirstprizeatsuchanimportantartshow.

Withasigh,Nancydecidedtoponderthematterforawhileandperhapsaskherfather’sadvicebeforetakinganysteps.Meanwhile,itmightbewelltosnapaphotoof themuseumpainting tocomparewith theother lateron, incasehedidadvisehertonotifytheartshowjudges.

Nancy turned to Miss Heron and pointed to the eerie-looking canvas.“MindifIsetthisupinbrighterlightsomewhere,soIcanphotographit?”

“Of course not.Go right ahead.”The curator’s assistant looked slightlysurprised at the teenager’s request, but politely refrained from asking thereason.

Nancy laid the painting on a worktable directly under one of thefluorescentceiling lightsandproceeded tosnapapictureof itwithher tinypursecamera.

Shehad just finishedwhenMr.Gregorycame into theroom.“Oh, thereyouare,Nancy,”he exclaimedon seeingher. “Iheardyouwerehere.Thatwasquiteanadventureyouhadlastnight.”

“Theintrudercertainlyturnedupinanunusualdisguise,”shechuckled.“SoIgather.AndIthinkIcanshowyoujusthowithappened.”Thebalding curator ledNancy to a small basementworkshopdown the

hall and showed her scratchmarks on the door lock, indicating that it had

beenjimmiedopen.“Ratheraclumsyjob,”sheobservedthoughtfully,“orelseahastyone.”Mr.Gregory nodded. “The latter, I think. They probably sneaked down

here justbeforeclosing timeandhad to findaplace tohidequicklybeforeanyonenoticedthem.”

Headdedthatregularmuseumcraftsmenemployedintheworkshophadfoundcigarettebuttsandanemptymatchbookintheroomwhentheycametoworkthatmorning.

Lookingaroundinsidetheworkshop,Nancysawvariouspiecesofarmorbeingrepaired.

“So this iswhereoneof themgot the ideaofdressingup likea spookyknighttoscareus!”

“Exactly,” the curator agreed. “What I still don’tunderstand is justhowtheycontrivedtoambushthewatchman.”

“IthinkIcanexplainthat,”theyoungdetectivesaid,“especiallynowthatyou’veshownmehowtheyenteredinthefirstplace.”

Nancy conjectured that after the museum had closed and the staff hadgone home, one of the thieves had emerged from the basement workshop,madehiswaycautiouslyupstairs,andpickedthelockonthecurator’sofficedoor.

“Youhaveaspecialprivate telephone inyouroffice,don’tyou?”Nancypausedtoinquire.“Imean,besidestheregularmuseumphoneline.”

“Yes,inthetelephonedirectory,underRiverHeightsArtMuseum,you’llfinditlistedseparatelyas‘Curator’sOffice’withitsownseparatenumber.”

Nancysuggestedthatwhileoneintruderstationedhimselfinthecurator’soffice,anothercouldhavefurtivelyspiedonthewatchmanashepatroledthemuseum.

“Thenwhenhesawthewatchmangoupstairs,hecouldhavedialedyourofficenumberfromoneofthepayphonesonthemainfloor.”

“Ah,Iseewhatyoumean!”saidMr.Gregory.“That’showthewatchmanjust‘happened’tohearthephoneringingashewentpastmyoffice.”

“Right,”Nancy declared. “Thenwhen hewent in to answer it, the onelying inwait pouncedonhim.And theonewho’ddone thedialinghurriedupstairstohelpsubduetheirvictim.”

“Ibelieveyou’vehitontheexplanation,Nancy.Andincidentally,Iwouldsay this prettywell eliminates the theory that theymay have had an insidehelper.”

Nancyagreedwiththecurator.“Ifamuseumemployeehadfallenintoourtrap and tipped themoff that the alarm systemwas still disconnected, theywouldn’thavebotheredhidingoutinthatbasementworkshop.”

Mr. Gregory thanked the young detective for her help and promised tonotifyheratonceiftheDuvalfamilypaintingturnedupinthestoragearea.

Nancy then left the museum and drove to the newspaper office of theRiverHeightsRecord.Atthereceptiondeskinthelobby,sheaskedtospeakto the arts and entertainment reporter, Peter Worden, and was promptlydirectedupstairstohiscubbyholeoffice.

Wordengreetedherwithasmile.“HowcanIhelpyou,Nancy?”“Could you giveme a more detailed description of Lee Talbot’s prize-

winningpainting?”sheasked,returninghissmile.“Icandobetterthanthat.Icanshowyouaphotographofit.”Leafing through a file drawer, PeterWorden pulled out a glossy 8 x 10

photograph. It showed Talbot and the art show judges grouped around hispainting,whichlookedquitelarge.

Nancywasstartled,butnotbythesizeofthecanvas.Pictoriallyspeaking,LeeTalbot’sworkwasanalmostpreciseduplicateofthesmallerpaintingthatshehadseenjustashorttimebefore!

Thenewsmannoticedhergaspofsurprise.“Isthereanythingyoucaretotellme,Nancy?”heaskeddiscreetly.

Nancy Drew hesitated. Since Peter Worden was the one who had firstapprised her of the suspicious similarity, and had now helped her prove itbeyondadoubt,shefeltsheatleastowedhimawordofexplanation.

“I canonly speakoff the record,” she saidunhappily. “If I do,will youpromisenottoquoteme,orinvolvemeinanywayinyourdisputewithLeeTalbot?”

“OfcourseI’llpromise.Youhavemywordofhonoronthat,Nancy.”“Then I’m sorry to say your suspicions were right. The painting you

remembered happens to be down in the basement storage area of themuseum.”Shetoldhimthesizeofthepictureandthenameoftheartistwhohadpaintedit.

ThewholeepisodeleftNancyfeelingratherheavyheartedanddepressed.Nevertheless, she dropped off her film at a camera store to be developed.Thensheheadedoutoftown.

Maybeadriveinthecountrywillcheermeup,shetoldherselfhopefully.Professor Crawford’s married daughter lived in a pleasant rural hamlet

aboutadozenmilesfromRiverHeights.HernamewasMrs.Graleandsheherselfwasnowaparentwithtwochildrenofschoolage.

She receivedNancy in a friendlyway, and they satdown to chat inherkitchen over cups of instant coffee. But she shook her head regretfully toNancy’squestion.

“Remember,Iwasonlyalittlegirlatthetimeyouspeakof.Iimagineinthose days I hardly even realized my dad was a history prof,”Mrs. Graleaddedwithasmile.

“Thenyou’venoideawhatkindofresearchhemayhavecarriedoutforMissLouiseDuval?”

“I’mafraidnot,dear.Yousee,I turnedoverallhisacademicpapersandrecordstoWestmoorU.afterhedied.”

NancythankedMrs.Graleandrosetoleave.“I’msorryIcan’tbeofanymorehelp,MissDrew,afteryou’vecomeall

thisway,”thewomansaidastheystoodinthedoorway.Nancysmiledcheerfully.“That’sallright.Ireallyenjoyedtheride.”OnherwaybacktoRiverHeights,Nancystoppedoffatadelightfulold

innforalatelunch.Then,withaneyeonthetime,shespedbacktotowntokeepherappointmentatPierre’sworkshop,whereshewastomeethisbacker,Mr.Varney.

NancyfeltsomewhatoutofplacewhenshefoundtheyoungFrenchmantalking to a shrewd-looking, businesslike individual namedMarstonParker.AparentlytheyhadbeendiscussingthetechnicaldetailsofPierre’scomputermemorydevice.

“Don’tletmeinterrupt,”Nancysaidhastily.“Whydon’tIcomebackabitlaterwhenyou’refree,Pierre?”

“No,no!Pleasestay,”heinsisted.“Mr.ParkerrepresentsoneofyourbigAmericancomputercompanies,andIamabouttodemonstratemyinventiontohim.Thisisachanceforyoutoseewhatmyworkisallabout,Nancy,andperhapsifmydemonstrationissuccessful,itwillalsomarkthefirststepinanimportantbusinessdeal.”

Nancy’sblueeyes twinkled. “Verywell. Ifyoudon’tmindanaudience,I’llsitandwatch.”

Pierrebustledabout,preparingthedemonstration.Thiswouldinvolvethedesktopcomputermodelthatshehadseenhimassemblingthedaybefore.Helookedannoyedat thefact thatsomeofhistoolsseemedtobeoutofplace,andas a result he couldnot layhandspromptlyon aparticularone that heneeded.

“Myassistant,NyraBetz,ishomeilltoday,”heexplained,“andIcannotseem to find anythingwhen I need it. Shemust havemoved things aroundbeforewecloseduptheshopyesterdayevening.”

At last, however, allwas ready. Pierrewas speaking toMr. Parker, justbeforeflickingaswitchthatwouldturnonthecomputer.

Nancyfeltvaguelyuneasyforsomereasonthatshecouldnotunderstand.Thenshenoticedseveralscratchmarksaroundthescrewsholdingthecoverof the computer in place. Perhaps the scratches on the door lock of themuseumworkshophadmadeherespeciallyawareofsuchevidence.

“Thosescratchesweren’tthereyesterday,”shemurmuredwithafrown.They were also completely out of character with Pierre’s deft,

craftsmanlike way with tools. He would never have driven in screws socarelesslyastomartheglossyfinishoftheplasticcover.

A sudden,dismaying thought flashed throughNancy’smind.Theyoung

Frenchmanwas about to press the switch that would turn on power to thecomputer.

“Pierre,don’t!”shecriedoutinalarm.Butitwastoolatetostophim.Aninstantlater,aloudexplosionechoed

throughtheworkshopasthecomputerblewup!

11

EnglishSettlers

WarnedbyNancy’scry,PierreandMarstonParkerhaddrawnbackandflungtheir arms over their faces. So despite the force of the blast and the flyingdebris, no one was hurt except for some scratches and bruises. But thecomputeritselfwasbadlydamaged,aswasPierre’sinvention.

“Whatwentwrong?”Parkerasked,frowningandobviouslydisturbedbywhathadhappened.

“I’mafraidthesetupwasbooby-trapped,”putinNancy,andsheexplainedwhathadarousedhersuspicions.“Evidently,someonedoesn’twantPierretosucceedinsellinghismemorydevice.”

TheyoungFrenchmanwasatfirstbewildered,thengrimandtight-lipped,as he surveyed the results of the blast. “Obviously I cannot go onwith thedemonstration.My equipment is ruined. I apologize forwasting your time,Mr.Parker.”

“Toobad,” themanufacturer’s agent commiserated, although he seemednotwhollyconvincedbyNancy’sexplanationoftheexplosion.“Doesthissetyoubackveryfar?”

“I have lost about amonth’swork,” Pierre said in a discouraged voice.“Not tomention the cost of replacing the parts that have been destroyed.”Thenheshruggedandsmiledbravely.“Ehbien,thankgoodnessnoonewashurt.”

Therewasasharpraponthehalf-opendoor.Abig,vigorous-lookingmaninhisfiftiesenteredtheworkshopandlookedaroundinastonishment.“Well,well!I’dsaysomethingviolentoccurredhere.Whathappened?”

“Ah, Mr. Varney!” Pierre hurried toward his visitor, hand outstretched.“Youcomeatanunfortunatetime.Someunknownenemyhassabotagedmywork.”

“Iwarnedyoutobeonthelookoutfortrouble,son.”Varney,whohadthetanned,weatheredfaceofanoutdoorsportsman,wasfrowning.“Didanyoneseeanythingsuspicious?”

HeflungaquestioningglanceatMarstonParkerandNancy.“Miss Drew is quite famous for solving mysteries,” Pierre explained.

“Luckily,shedetectedtroublejustintimetosaveusfrominjury.”After introducing his guests to each other, Pierre added toNancy, “You

rememberItoldyouthatMr.Varneyisfinancingmywork.”“Ohyes,ofcourse.”Nancysmiledatthebigman.“HowluckyforPierre

thatyou’rehelpinghim.Howdidyouhappentohearofhim?”“MissDrew,allmy friendsknow that I’mon the lookout forpromising

youngbusinesspeopleandinventors.Sotheykeepmewellinformed.”AsNancynodded,hewenton.“Now,inPierre’scase,afriendinEurope

saw an interviewwith him and a report on his computerwork in a Frenchnewspaper. After reading that Pierre was about to come to the U.S.A., henotifiedme.”

Varney turned toPierre,whohad justseenMarstonParkerout thedoor.“Bytheway,myboy,havealistreadythisafternoonofwhateveryou’llneedtoreplaceallthisdamagedmaterial.Mysecretarywillcallyou.”

Pierrethankedhimsincerely.ThefinancierclappedtheyoungFrenchmanontheback,saying,“Inthe

meantime,don’tbetoodownhearted.”ThenhesmiledatNancy—“Apleasuretohavemetyou,MissDrew”—andleft.

ThegirldetectivelookedatPierre.“Youlookconsiderablymorecheerful,I’mgladtosee.”

“Vraiment.” He smiled. Then his face became somewhat more serious.“Nancy,I’vebeenmeaningtoaskifyouhavehadanyfurtherwordfromLisa—er,MissThorpe.Doyouthink…”

Hepauseduncertainly.Nancyreplied,“I’mgladyouremindedme.Imustphoneher.MayIcall

fromhere?”“Oh,butofcourse,”Pierresaideagerly.“WouldyoucaretospeaktoherwhenI’mthrough?I’msureshe’dliketo

hearfromyou,”NancysaidasshedialedLisa’snumber.Aservant’svoiceanswered,butLisaherselfsooncameontheline.Nancy

explainedthatshewascallingfromPierreMichaud’sworkshop,thenasked,“Lisa, did your great-aunt, LouiseDuval, leave any personal belongings orpapersthatarestillinyourfamily’spossession?”

“Letmethink.”Afteramoment’spause,Lisasaid,“I’mnotcertain.Butthereare lotsofoldfamily things, trunksandsoon, in theattic.TheremayevenbethingsgoingbacktoPaulandYvetteDuval’stime.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Nancy exclaimed. “You see, I’ve been wondering ifMissLouisemighthaveleftanythingamongherpersonaleffectsthatwouldshedsomelightonherlettertoPierre’sgrandfather.”

“It’s certainly possible.”Lisa clearedher throat nervously. “Nancy,whydon’t you come over tomorrow afternoon and we’ll go through the stufftogether.”

Nancyhesitated.“I’dloveto,butareyousureitwon’t…”Lisainterrupted,“Don’tworry,myfatherwon’tbehere.Andanyway,it’s

myhousetoo,”shefinishedboldly.Nancy laughed. “Fine. See you then. Now, here’s Pierre, who’d like a

wordwithyoubeforeIhangup.”Andshehandedthephonetohim.Gatheringupherpurseandcarkeys,Nancywavedgoodbyetotheyoung

inventor.Hewasalreadydeeplyengrossedinconversationandbarelyseemedtonoticeherdepartureassheslippedoutthedoorwithasmile.

Nancy drove home and had no sooner arrived in the house when thetelephonerang.HannahGruen,theDrews’housekeeper,answeredit.

“Justamoment,please,”shesaid,thenwithherhandoverthemouthpiecemurmuredtoNancy,“It’sforyou,dear.AMr.Teakin.”

Dropping her shoulder bag on a chair near the door, Nancy took thereceiverfromHannah.

“Miss Drew,” the pleasant voice of the historical society’s secretarygreetedher,“I’vefoundsomethingthatmayinterestyou,soIthoughtI’dletyouknowrightaway.”

“Ohgood,Mr.Teakin!Whatdidyoufind?”“A local newspaper article, dated in 1796. It tells how Paul andYvette

DuvalhadjustsettledinRiverHeights.”Nancylistenedwithkeeninterestashewenton.“Accordingtothisreport,

theyarrivedherefromLondon,England,anditgoesontosaythatPaulDuvalhadbeen adirector of theMercantileExchangeBank there for thepast sixyears.”

After exchanginga fewmore remarkswith the society secretary,Nancythankedhimforthehelpfulinformationandhungup,surprisedandpuzzled.

Despite their French name and the family tradition of their Frenchbackground,theDuvalcouplehadcomefromEngland!Infact,fromwhatthenewspaperarticletoldaboutthem,theymightnothavebeenFrenchatall.Atany rate, they had apparently been living in England for some time beforecomingtoAmerica.

Nancyspent the restof theafternoonmullingoverwhatbearingall thismighthaveonthemystery.

Just before dinner, as Nancy was helping Hannah set the table, LisaThorpe called. She asked if Nancy could come to her house that eveninginsteadoftomorrowafternoon.

“Of course, Lisa, no problem.About eight-fifteen or so? Fine. See youthen.”

TheDrewsandHannahsatdowntoaleisurelydinneroflambchopsandminted peas, topped off by a flaky-crusted blueberry pie for dessert.Afterward, Carson Drew left to keep an appointment with a client, whileNancyhelpedHannahclearthetableandloadthedishwasher.

Then,runningacombthroughherhair,NancyslippedonabeigeraincoatandstartedoutforLisa’shouse.

Itwasacloudy,windyeveningwithapromiseofrainintheair.AsNancyparked in front of the Thorpes’ house, the first few drops of rain began tospatterthewindshield.

Lisaansweredthedoorwithawelcomingsmile.TakingNancy’sraincoat,shewhispered,“Ihaveanunexpectedguest,I’mafraid,”andthenledherintoacharminglydecorateddrawingroom.

Ablond,wavy-hairedyoungmanstooduptogreetthenewarrival.“Ah,MissDrew!Youdogetaround,don’tyou?”hesaidinhisaffected,man-of-theworldvoice.ToLisaheaddedbywayofexplanation,“Wemet just theotherdayattheartmuseum.”

Settlinghimselfonthesofaagain,LeeTalbotcrossedhislegsgracefullyandwenton,“LisaandIwere justenjoyingacozyevening for two. I’dnoideashewasexpectingcompany.”

HisremarkseemedtoimplythatheandLisawereromanticallyinvolved,andthatNancywasintruding.ButfromthelookonLisa’sface,shecouldseethat this was far from the truth. Nancy suspected that he felt somewhatembarrassed over her having witnessed his unpleasant scene with PeterWorden,sonowhewastryingtoassertanairofsuavesuperiority.

To change the subject, Nancy asked politely if he had done any morepaintingrecently.

“Ohyes!Ihavetwoorthreeexcitingnewcanvasesunderway.”Springingup from the sofa again, LeeTalbot began to describe his newworks of artwithelaborategestures.“Iratherthinkmynextexhibitwilcausequiteastirintheartworld,”heinformedthetwogirlswithasmirk.

Nancyfoundhimunpleasantlysmugandboring.SodidLisa,apparently.When he paused by her chair and casually slipped an arm around hershoulder,Lisagentlybutfirmlydisengagedherself.

Undeterred by her coolness, Talbotwent on in his self-satisfiedway torelatehowimpressedthejudgesattherecentartshowhadbeenbyhisprize-winningpicture.

“I’veseenaphotographofitsincewemet,”Nancyputin.“Youcertainlychoseanexoticandunusualsubject.MayIaskwhereyougottheinspirationforyourpainting?”

Instead of looking pleased at her question, Lee Talbot’s face darkenedwithanger.“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”hesnapped.“Isupposeyou’vebeentalkingwiththatignorantlout,Worden.Well,youcantellhimfrommehe’saskingfortroubleandapossiblelawsuit!”

Withacurtapologyandgood-nighttoLisa,hestalkedoutoftheroom.Amoment later, the startledgirlsheard the frontdoor slam, thenacarenginerevupandzoomoff.

As if to punctuate his departure, a violent thunderclap rumbled throughthesky,andthestormburstinfullfury!

12

AGhostintheAttic

TheoutbreakofthestormseemedtorelieveLisaThorpe’spent-upemotionaltension. She gave a nervous giggle of relief. “It’s awful of me to say so,Nancy,butI’mgladhe’sgone!”

Nancygrinnedunderstandingly.“Iwasabouttoapologizefordrivingyourguestaway.Butifyoudon’tmind,IguessIdon’teither.”

Lisashookherheadinmockregret.“PoorLee.He’ssuchastuffedshirtanddoesn’tevenrealizeit.Hethinkshe’stheartworld’sgifttowomen.”

“Actually,Igottheimpressionheconsidersyoutwopracticallyengaged.”“Myfatherwisheswewere,”Lisaconfidedunhappily.“Lee’squiterich,

yousee,soDaddythinkswe’dbeagoodmatch.ButpersonallyIcan’tstandhim—he’ssuchabore!Allheevertalksaboutishimselfandhisgreatartistictalent.”

“Doesyour fatheroften try tomakedecisions foryou?”Nancy inquiredgently.

“All the time!”Lisaseemedonly tooeager topourouther troubles toasympatheticlistener.“Daddy’salwaysbeenlikethat,eversinceMotherdiedwhenIwasten—Imean,bossingmearound,tellingmehowtoact,wheretogo,whattodoandwhatnottodo.”

Shewentonlessresentfully,as if tryingtoseebothpointsofview.“Hemeanswell,Isuppose.Heprobablytriestobebothamotherandfathertome.Thetroubleis,hisideaofmotheringisoverseeingeverythingIdo—naggingmetodothisorthat—peckingatmelikeamotherhen.Oramotherrooster,ifyou can imagine such a thing!”Lisa addedwith another nervous giggle. “Iguess you can’t really knowwhat it’s like, though, unless you’ve lost yourownmother.”

“Asamatteroffact,Ihave,”Nancyrespondedquietly.“Mymotherdiedwhen Iwas three.Butwe have a very kind-hearted,motherly housekeeper,who helped to make up for the loss. And being a lawyer, Dad tends topersuade people rather than boss them around. Your father’s a businesstycoon, isn’the?…so I supposehe’sprobablymoreused to issuingordersandhavingthemobeyed.”

“That’sDaddy,allright!”Lisanoddedvigorously.From theothergirl’s timidyetoutspokenmanner, as if shewere saying

thingsshe’dneverbeforedaredtoexpressopenly,NancysensedthatLisawasscared of her father and his dictatorial ways. At the same time, a bond ofsympathywasalreadyformingbetweenthetwogirlsbecausebothhadbeenmotherlesssinceanearlyage.

Lisa related that her mother was the daughter of Louise Duval’s twinbrother, Louis, who had moved abroad with his family while pursuing hiscareer as a diplomat.Later, after his daughter grewup, shehad returned toRiverHeightsandmarriedNortonThorpe.

Even though the latter was rich and autocratic, it was still not clear toNancywhyhehadtakensuchaninstantdisliketoPierreMichaud.

“Sinceyourmother livedabroad forso long,”Nancyremarked,“maybeshewouldhavebeenmore friendly towardPierre thanyour fatherseems tobe.”

Lisa nodded reflectively. “Yes, I think shemight have. Somehow I feelGreat-AuntLouisewouldhaveapprovedofhimtoo,eventhoughfromwhatMotherusedtotellme,shewasquiteregalandstuffyinherownway.”

LisasaidthatafterLouiseDuval’sdeath,thefamilydecidedhermansionwastoolargeandcostlytokeepup,soitwasfinallysoldandtorndowntomakewayforanindustrialpark.

“TheremusthavebeenmanyoldpossessionsoftheDuvalfamilyinhermansion,”Nancy said thoughtfully. “Do you knowwhat happened to themwhenthehousewassold?”

“I believemost of the furnishingswere sold alongwith it. ButMotherprobablyhadthefamilyitemsmovedhere.Anyhow,there’scertainlyalotofold-fashioned junk and paraphernalia up in the attic, Nancy, and you’rewelcometolookthroughit.”

Thestormwasstillragingoutside,thoughnotasloudlyasbefore.Duringa lull in the conversation, the girls suddenly heard creaky footstepssomewhereoverhead.

“Whatwasthat?”Lisaexclaimed.From her startled expression, Nancy saw that the sounds were quite

unexpected.“Footsteps,Ithink.Isanyoneelseinthehouse?”“JustBooker.He’sDaddy’soldvaletandmanservant.Buthe’soutinthe

kitchen, I’m sure!And those footsteps sounded high up—almost as if theywerecomingfromtheattic!”

Lisa’stimidnaturewasapparentfromherlookofgrowingalarm.Puttingthesituationintowordsseemedtofrightenherevenmore—especiallyaftershewenttocheckonBookerandfoundhimshiningsilverwareinthepantry.

JustasLisareturnedtothedrawingroom,followedbytheelderlyservant,severalmorefaintcreakswereheardfromabove.

“Ithinkweshouldcallthepolice,Nancy,don’tyou?”shesaidanxiously.

Theyoungsleuthagreed,ifonlytoreassurethenervousgirl.“Maybethatwouldbewisest,Lisa.”

Nancy concealed her own impatience as the servant went off to thetelephonetocarryoutLisa’sinstructions.

Tensemoments dragged bywhile theywaited for a scout car to arrive.Severalmoresoundswereheard.

Nancy fretted inwardly that some unknown intruder might be goingthroughthelastremainingpersonaleffectsofMissLouiseDuval.SheherselfhadcometotheThorpes’househopingtofindintheiratticacluethatwouldhelphersolvethemysteryofMissDuval’slettertoPierre’sgrandfather.Butsomeoneelsemayhavehadthesameidea.

Atthisverymoment,theintrudermightbe

makingoffwithimportantevidence!“Lisa,I’mgoingupstairsandfindoutwho’sthere,”theteenagedetective

announcedabruptly.“Oh,Nancy!Areyousurethat’ssafe?”Lisaquavered.“I’llbecareful,”Nancypromised.Bookerinsistedonaccompanyingher,armedwithaflashlightandrolling

pin,whileLisabroughtuptherear.

The three ascended to the second floor, then quietly opened the atticstairway door. Nancy thought she heard another faint creak of footstepsabove,butcautionedtheotherswithafingertoherlips.

Thetrionowtiptoedhastilyupanotherflightofstairstothetopmostlevelofthehouse.Fromthechillydraftofairontheirfaces,andtheaudiblepatterof rain outside, itwas evident that one of the atticwindowsmust be open;otherwise,silencereigned.

Booker switchedonhis flashlight and shone the bright yellowbeamallaround. There was no one in sight! However, he checked around carefullyamongthecluttereditems.

Satisfied at last that no housebreaker was crouched in hiding, he wentbackdowntothefootofthestairsandswitchedonthelights.

With the attic now brightly illuminated, the two girls could see that acasementwindowwasflappingopen.Butifanyintruderhadindeedenteredthisway,theyhadobviouslyfailedtotakehimbysurprise.

Doorchimessoundedfrombelow.“Thatmustbethepolice!”Lisaexclaimedinrelief.ThegirlsandBooker

hurrieddownstairstoletthemin.The two patrol-car officers who had answered the call wiped their feet

carefully and apologized for any tracking. Their uniform slickers werestreamingwithmoisturefromthestorm.

After accompanying the girls upstairs and looking around, they seemeddoubtfulthatanyintruderhadbrokenintotheattic.

“Sure youweren’t just imagining things?” one policeman said, pushingbackhiscapandscratchinghisforehead.

“Whatweheardcertainlysoundedlikefootsteps,”Lisasaidhesitantly.“This window was open,” Nancy pointed out, “and as you can see, it

doesn’t fit its frame very tightly. Someone could have climbed up that treejustoutsideandslippedinaknifetoopenthelatch.”

“Butonarainynightlikethis,hesurewouldhaveleftwetfootprints,”theofficerargued,“andIdon’tseeanyaround.”

Nevertheless, the two policemen promised to report the incident toheadquarters and also to scour the neighborhood for any suspiciouscharacters.Aftertheyhadleft,thegirlswentbackupstairstosearchforcluestothemysteryNancywastryingtosolve.

The attic was crowded with discarded furniture, piles of back-issuemagazines,boxes,crates,andold-fashionedluggage.Muchoftheclutterwasfurredwithdust,butinplacesthedusthadbeenfreshlyrubbedaway!

“Nancy, this certainly looks as though someone’s been up here!” Lisadeclared.

The young detective nodded, frowning slightly. “Yes, and I’ve justrealizedwhy therewerenowetprints,Lisa.The intrudercouldhavepulled

heavysocksoverhisshoestoavoidtracking,orelsesimplyhavetakenoffhisshoesorrubbersbeforeheclimbedin.”

Thedistantsoundofadooropeningandslamming,followedbyavoicedriftingupfrombelow,indicatedthatsomeonehadjustarrived.

“That must be my father,” Lisa murmured. From her pale-wide-eyedexpression and sudden nervousness, Nancy realized she was worried overhowhemightreacttohervisitor.

Presently Norton Thorpe came stalking up the attic stairs. He stoppedshort on seeingNancyDrew and glared at her angrily for amoment. Thenwithanill-temperedsnortheturnedonhistremulousdaughter.“NowIknowyoushouldstayfromthatworthless,scoundrelofaFrenchman!”Mr.Thorpedeclaredinaloud,contemptuousvoice.

13

PhantomFashions

NancyrealizedatoncethatNortonThorpe’srudeoutburstcouldrefertoonlyoneperson,PierreMichaud.Buthischoiceofwordsseemedunusuallyharsh,evenforablusteringbullylikeThorpe.Shewonderedwhathadprovokedthislatestdisplayofbadtemper.

Evidently, so did Lisa. After a moment’s hesitation, she murmured,“Daddy,Idon’tthinkyou’veanycalltotalkthatwayaboutPierre,especiallyinfrontofafriendofhis.”

“Oh, you don’t, eh?” her father retorted.His face took on amockinglysarcasticexpression.“ThenmaybeMissDrewherehasn’ttoldyouthelatestnewsaboutherpushyyoungFrench friend. I justheard it on the car radio,drivinghome.”

“Whatnews,Daddy?”Lisasaidanxiously.“Healmostblewhimselfupwhilehewas showingoffhisbrilliantnew

invention.”“Oh,no!”Lisagasped,andashocked lookcameoverher lovely, ivory-

skinnedface.“Don’t worry, hewasn’t hurt, aside from a few scratches and bruises,”

Nancyassuredher.“Hmph, too bad. Might’ve taught the young fool a lesson,” grunted

NortonThorpe.This heartless remark was too much for Nancy. “If you’ll forgive my

sayingso,Mr.Thorpe,”shesaidmildly,“Idon’tseewhyPierre’saccidentisanyreasontodislikeordespisehim.Itdoesn’tproveanythingatallabouthischaracter.”

“That’swhat you think, young lady. If youwere a little older andmoreexperienced,you’drealizeitprovesagooddealabouthischaracter.Itshowsthathe’seitheracrackpot,whoknowsnothingaboutengineering,orelsethathe’s mixed up with a bunch of dangerous foreign crooks who probablyfollowedhimovertothiscountry!”

“Actually,Mr.Thorpe,theexplosionwasduetosabotage,”NancyDrewresponded inacalmvoice. “Therewasdefiniteevidence indicating that thecomputerhewasusingtodemonstratehisdevicehadbeenbobby-trapped—perhapsbecausehis invention’s sogood itmayoutdateother equipmenton

the market. I know,” Nancy added, “because I was there when the blastoccurredanddiscoveredtheevidencemyself.”

TheheavysetbusinessmanhadbeenabouttoheapscornonherdefenseofPierreMichaud.ButNancy’s lastwords robbed him of any effective retortandleftThorpegapinginspeechlessirritation.

Flushing darkly, he turned to vent his anger on Lisa. “Make up all theexcuses for himyou like. I say that schemingFrenchman’s up to no good!AndItrustwe’veseenthelastofhimaroundhere!”

Lisa looked pale and nervous, but said bravely, “I think you’re beingunjust, Father. Pierre may or may not be successful, but it must’ve takencourageforhimtocomeoverhereandtrytomakegoodinaforeigncountrywith nothing more than faith in his own idea. Personally I think he’s anexampleofwhatyoualwayscallthebestAmericantradition.”

NancyrealizedthatithadalsotakencourageonLisa’sparttodifferwithherfather.Bothgirlswonderedanxiouslyhowhewouldreact.

Norton Thorpe looked startled at first, then incredulous, as if he couldhardly believe his daughterwould dare to disagreewith him.His face hadtakenonascowllikeathundercloud.

But gradually, much to Nancy’s and Lisa’s relief, his scowl faded andgavewaytoanewlookofgrudgingrespect.

“Hmph!We’reallentitledtoourownopinions,Isuppose,”hegrumbled.Thenheturnedandstalkedoffdowntheatticstairs,withoutdemandingthatLisa’sguestleavethehouse.

Thetwogirlslookedateachother.Lisarolledhereyesandheavedasoftsighofrelief.“Whew!”Thenbothlaughedquietly.

“Well,comeon!Let’sseewhat’suphere!”Lisasaidwithafreshburstofenthusiasm.

Since the girls did not know exactly what they were looking for, theyrealized the taskmight take hours.After all, the jumble of old objects andcontainershadtakenyearstoaccumulate.Theycouldhardlyhopetoexamineitallinasingleevening.

NancypointedoutthatanyofLouiseDuval’seffectswouldnodoubthavebeenpackedwhen the familymansionwas sold after herdeath thirtyyearsago.AnyofPaulandYvetteDuval’spossessions,on theotherhand,wouldmorelikelyhavebeenstoredoveracenturyandahalfago.

“I’mnotsurethathelpsusmuch,”theprettyyoungsleuthadmittedwitharuefulsmile.“Still,itmaygiveusaroughguideline.”

“Iseewhatyoumean,Nancy.”Lisanodded.“Soundslikeagoodidea.We’llconcentrateonstuffthatlookseitherthat

oldorthatrecent.”The labels ormarkingson someof theboxes enabled thegirls to judge

when they had been packed. Also, in some cases, the contents had been

wrappedinnewspaperswhichgaveamoreexactstoragedate.Goingbysuchindications,theywereabletoeliminateanumberofitems.

Even so, they found themselves searching luggage and crates of familykeepsakes,clothing,andhouseholdgoodsthatwereofnohelpatall.SomeofthestufflookedtobefromtheperiodofWorldWarIorWorldWarII;othersseemedtodatefarbackintothenineteenthcentury.

“Fascinating,” Nancy sighed as they gave up on yet another box, “butwe’restillclueless.”

“Wait,thislooksinteresting!”saidLisa,turningtoanancient,brass-boundtrunk.“Anditmustbeahundredyearsoldattheveryleast!”

“You’reright,that’sarealantique!”hercompanionagreed.Asmall,brasskeywasstickingoutofthekeyholeoftheclasp.Itturned

fairlyeasilyand theclaspsprangopen.AsLisapushedup the trunk lid, itshingessqueakedinprotest.

“Oh, Nancy, look! It’s full of old gowns!” the Thorpe girl exclaimed.“Aren’ttheybeautiful?”

NancycaughtherbreathasLisapulledoutalace-trimmedeveninggownofshimmering,rose-redtaffeta,thenagraceful,puff-sleevedchemisedressinclassicGrecianstyle,madeoffilmylightgreenmuslin.

“TheymusthavebeenYvetteDuval’s!”theyoungdetectivedeclared.“Atleast,theperiodisright.Thosehigh-waistedstyleswerepopularjustaround1800!”

Bothgirlswere thrilledat the thought that thesegarmentshaddoubtlessbeen worn by the beautiful young woman whose portrait hung in thedownstairshall.

“Whatatreasuretrove!”saidLisa,awestruckastheyprobedthroughthecontentsof the trunk.“Tothinkof these lovelycreationsbeingburiedawayupherealltheseyears!”

Besides the musty assortment of gowns, there were silken petticoats,severalscarves,avelvetcloak,long-sleevedgloves,evenasatinbonnet.

“How odd!” Nancymurmured as she came on quite a different sort ofgarment.Thiswasasimple,crudelysewndressofcoarse,dark jerseyclothwithalace-upbodice.Itwassoiledandstainedandseemedthekindofdressthathadprobablybeenwornwithanapron.

“Whatonearthisthatdoinginwithalltheserichgowns?”Lisapuzzled.“I’m wondering too,” Nancymused. “It looks more like a dress that a

peasantgirlorworkwomanmighthaveworn.”As Lisa lifted out some of the more beautiful clothes so they could

examinethepeasantdress,therewasametallictinkle.Somethinghadstruckthetrunkclaspwhilefallingtothefloor.Nancybenttopickitup,andgasped.

“It’sagoldweddingring!”“Isthereanameonit?”Lisaaskedexcitedly.

Nancy held it up to the light and peered at the tiny engraved letteringinside the golden circlet. “Yes, two names,” she announced. “Yvette andPhilippe.Andtheyear1789.”

“Phillipe?”Lisaechoedwithapuzzledfrown.“Areyousure?”“Seeforyourself.”Nancyhandedherthering.Lisa studied its engraving under the light, then looked at her friend in

perplexity.“Idon’tunderstand.Herhusband’snamewasPaul,notPhilippe.”Nancy respondedwitha thoughtfulnod.“Iknow. In fact there’soutside

evidence to confirm that fact.” She told about the old newspaper articlediscoveredbyMr.Teakinofthehistoricalsociety,whichreferredtoPaulandYvette Duval by name. “Perhaps your ancestress was married twice,” theteenagesleuthsuggested.

“I suppose that’s possible,” Lisa said, her forehead still puckered in aslightfrown.“Butifso,it’sstrangethatthefamilywasneverawareofit…oriftheywere,thatitwascompletelyforgotten.Still,Iguessallmemoriesfadewithtime,don’tthey?”

ThestormhadletupwhenNancylefttheThorpes’housesoonafterward.She sensed that thiswas only a temporary lull, and hoped she could reachhomebefore the downpour resumed.Unhappily, she had driven only a fewblockswhenafreshgustofrainstruckherwindshield.

Oh,whatluck!shethoughtwryly.NowI’llprobablygetdrenchedbeforeIgetindoorsagain!

She slowed at a blinking-light intersection and peered both ways. Thestreetsseemeddesertedatthislatehour,andnoonewascomingfromeitherdirection. But as she started across, Nancy glanced in her rearviewmirror,thenreactedasifshehadreceivedanelectricshock.

Abig,old-fashioned redcarwas followingher—fromallappearances,thesamecarthathadchasedhertheothernight!

And,asbefore,Nancycouldmakeoutnodriveratthewheel!A pang of fear shot through the girl! She trod hard on the gas pedal to

increasespeed,eventhoughshesensedalreadythatherpursuermeanttodoghertrailrelentlessly!

Sureenough,theredcar,too,speededup.Theemptyblacknessofitsfrontseatwasterrifying.ButNancysoonhadotherproblemstoclaimherattention.TheroadwoundsteeplydownhilltowardtheneighborhoodwheretheDrewslived.Andsteeringhercarwasbecomingmoreandmoredifficult.

What had happened to her power steering? She could hardly turn thewheel.Nancyhesitatedtoapplythebrakeswithherghostlypursuersoclosebehind.Butsheknewshewouldhavetodososoon,unlessshecouldbringhercarundercontrol.Otherwiseshewasindangerofgoingofftheroad!

Almost in the samemoment that the thought crossedNancy’smind, thedecisionwastakenoutofherhands!

There was a sudden thumpety-bump-bump! as her right wheel hit thecurb.Her car slued and bounded from the paved road surface onto the dirtshoulder!

TheshockjoltedNancyhalfoutofherseat.Sheutteredafrozenscreamoffrightassheglimpsedthesteephillsideyawningacrossherfieldofvision.

The next instant her car went skidding and crashing down the rough,brush-coveredhillside!

14

LegalThreats

Usingallofherstrength,Nancywrestledwiththesteeringwheelasitjerkedandtwistedfirstinonedirection,thenintheother.Allthewhileonherwildridedownthehillside,shewastryingtostopthecarbypushingonthebrakepedal.Finally,whenshethoughtshecoulddonomore,shewasabletobringthecartoahalt,stilluprightandinonepiece.

Considerably shaken and weak, Nancy leaned her head on the steeringwheelwhilethestormragedon.

“Whew!” she said as she pulled herself together, opened the door, andsteppedoutintotherain.

“Iguess the thing todo is towalkbackup to the roadanddown to thenextpublicphone,”shemutteredtoherselfassheclimbedupthehillside,rainstreamingoverherfromheadtofeet.

Walkingasfastasshecouldagainstthestorm,shereachedtheshelterofthe phone booth and called one of the 24-hour towing service numbersprovided by the company that insured her car. Nancy explained herpredicamentandaskedifshecouldbedroppedoffatherhousewhilethecarwasbeingtowedtoBill’sGarage,wheretheDrewswereoldcustomers.

“Sure,noproblem,” the servicemansaidcheerfully, “ifyoudon’tmindridingupinthecabwithme.”

Twentyminuteslater,Nancywalkedintoherhouse,drenchedtotheskin.Therestof thehouseholdwasasleep,andNancy,afterdisposingofherwetclothes, dried her hair and left a note for her father explaining what hadhappenedtohercar.Thenshefellintobedexhausted.

Shewasso tiredthatsheslept later thanusual thenextmorning.Bythetimesheshoweredanddressed,itwasafter9:30A.M.

Goingdownstairs,shefoundaplacesetforheratthekitchentableandanotefromHannahsayingshehadgonetothesupermarket.CarsonDrewhadlongsinceleftfortheoffice,soNancysatdowntoalonelybreakfast.

Onthewaytotherefrigeratorformilkandorangejuice,NancyswitchedonasmallTVsetthatHannahkeptonthekitchencounter.

“Mayaswelllistentothenews,”shesaidasshesettleddownatthetableandspoonedsomestrawberriesontohercereal.

“Andnowforsomelocalnewsitems,”theannouncer’svoiceboomedout.

“Here in RiverHeights, artists and other participants in the local art scenewereshockedbytherevelationthattheprize-winningpaintinginarecentartcontestwas a copy of a picture owned by theRiverHeightsMuseum.ThediscoverythatartistLeeTalbothadcopiedhissubjectmatterfromtheworkofanotherpainterwasmadeby the famous teenagedetective,NancyDrew.Talbotcouldnotbereachedfor…”

Nancy,veryupset,switchedofftheTVsetandwentintothelivingroomtolookatthecopyoftheMorningRecord,whichhadbeenbroughtinearlierfromtheporchbyCarsonDrew.Hastilycheckingthroughthepaper,Nancyfound the story of the copied painting on page 3. But this reportmade nomentionofherpartintheaffair.

Puzzled,Nancywentintothehalltothetelephoneandquicklydialedthenewspaperoffice.SheaskedtospeaktoreporterPeterWorden.

“Hello,Nancy,”hesaidwhenshereachedhim.“YoureadmystoryintheMorningRecord,right?”

“Yes,Idid,Peter.Thankyoufornotmentioningmyname.“Ialwaystrytogranttherequestofbeautifulgirls,”thereporteranswered

flirtatiously.Nancylaughed.“Eventhoughyoudidn’tpublishit,didyoumentionmy

nametoanyoneinconnectionwiththestory?”“Absolutelynot,”hesaidinamoreseriousvoice.“Whydoyouask?”“Iwas just listening to themorningnewson television,”Nancy replied.

“The broadcast named me as the one who discovered that Lee Talbot’spaintingwasacopy.”

“Well, I’ll be!”PeterWorden exclaimed. “Nancy, I don’t knowwhat tosay.IswearIdidn’tviolateyourconfidence.Itoldnobody.”HedeclaredthissoearnestlyandsoundedsodistressedthatNancycouldnothelpbutbelievehim.

“It’scertainlyapuzzle,”shesaidinatroubledvoice,“anditleavesmeinaveryunpleasantposition.Still,there’snousefrettingoverit—what’sdoneisdone. Isupposesooneror laterwe’ll findouthowmynamewasbroughtintoit.”

“I’ll check around and see what I can find out, Nancy,” Worden saidunhappily.“Meanwhile,ifIcanhelpinanyway,pleasecallonme.”

Thankinghim,Nancyreturnedtoherunfinishedbreakfastinthekitchen.Butthesightofthesoggycerealinthebowldroveawaywhatlittleappetiteshehadleft.Justthen,thetelephonerangandNancywenttoanswerit.

“MissNancyDrew,please.EmilyOwslercalling.”“ThisisNancyspeaking,MissOwsler.Howareyou?”“Oh—I’m just fine, dear.” The maid paused as if to choose her next

words, thenwent on. “I’ve just thought of something ofMissDuval’s thatmighthelpyou,somethingIwasgivenasakeepsake.Perhapsyouwouldlike

tolookatit?”Nancy’smoodbrightened.“Yes,indeed,MissOwsler.Er,whatisit?”“Anoldphotographalbum.Ithoughtbylookingatthepicturesinit,you

mightcomeacrossaclueofsomesort,”theelderlywomansaidhopefully.“Why,that’sanexcellentidea!Thankseversomuchforlettingmeknow.”Nancy arranged to visit Miss Owsler. She had no sooner hung up and

turnedawaythanthetelephoneshrilledagain.“I’dliketospeaktoNancyDrew,”snarledanangryvoice.“I’mNancyDrew.Whoisthis?”“This,MissDrew, isLeeTalbot.Youhavepublicly and falsely accused

me of stealing, of plagiarism. I am therefore suing you for libel anddefamationofcharacter.You’llhearfrommylawyer!”hethreatened.

AlookofdismayflickeredoverNancy’sfaceduringthisstormyspeech.Butsherepliedcalmlyenough,“Thenpleasehaveyourattorneycontactmyfather,CarsonDrew.Hewillactasmycounsel.”

Lee Talbot’s response was to slam down the receiver, breaking theconnection.

AsNancyturnedfromthephone,HannahGruen,theDrews’housekeeper,bustledinthedoorwithtwobagsofgroceries.

On seeingNancy’s expression,Hannah asked, “Has anything happened,dear?Youlookveryupsetandunhappy.”Shegavethegirlaquickhugaftersettingdownherloadfromthesupermarket.

“Oh,Hannah,I’vehadaratherunpleasantmorning.CouldyoutaketimeoutanddrivemetoBill’sGaragesoIcanpickupmycar?I’lltellyouallmytroublesontheway.”

They reached the garage in the Drews’ station wagon just as Nancyfinished relating the morning’s events, ending with a description of LeeTalbot’sthreateningtelephonecall.

“Mygoodness,nowonderyoulookedsoupset,dear!”aworriedHannahexclaimedasNancygot out of the car. “But don’t let it get youdown. I’msureyourfatherwillknowhowtodealwiththatfellow.Inthemeantime,takecareofyourself.”

“I’lltry,Hannah.Good-byeandthanksforthelift.”Rick,thegaragemechanic,wasjustclosingthehoodofNancy’scar.“All

set,MissDrew,”hesmiled,thenaddedmoresoberly,“Ithinkyououghttobemorecarefulwhereyouparkyourcar,hereafter.”

“Oh?Why?”“Somejokercutthepowersteeringhose.Allthefluidleakedout.”“Sothat’swhyIhadsomuchtroubleturningthewheel!”Nancyfrowned

reflectively.“AtfirstIdidn’tnoticeanythingwrong.ButIsupposethefluidleakedoutgraduallyasIdrovealong.”

“Right. Also, another odd thing, we had a call this morning. Fellow

wantingtoknowifwehadpickedupNancyDrew’scar.”AsNancy’seyeswidened,Ricksaid.“Maybeyououghttoreportittothe

police.”“You’reright,Iwill,”thegirlsleuthpromised.Shepaidtherepairbilland

droveoff.Nancydecidedtocheckwiththecuratorattheartmuseumtotrytofind

outhowhernamegot into thenewsreportaboutLeeTalbot’spainting.Butwhenshesawhiminhisofficelaterthatmorning,hewasunabletoshedanylightonthematter.

“No one talked to me about Lee Talbot or his painting, Nancy,” Mr.Gregorysaidregretfully.“I’msorryIcan’thelp.”

Seeingherdisappointed look,however,hewenton,hoping tocheerherup.

“Butwehavelocatedthatmissingpictureyouwereaskingabout—theonedonatedbytheDuvalfamilywhenthemuseumfirstopened!”

15

AnOldLikeness

Mr. Gregory opened the door to a closet in his office and brought out apaintingwithanold,ornategiltframe.Nancystaredattheportrait.

The painter had depicted a handsome youngmanwith dark eyes and acleftchin.Hewasdressedintheelegantstyleofthelateeighteenthcentury.Hehadatall,whitepowderedwigandapalebluevelvetcoatembroideredingoldwithafrothyjabotgatheredatthethroatofhisfinewhiteshirt.

“A striking fellow, I must admit,” Mr. Gregory remarked, “even if thepainting’snotallthatvaluable.”

“Yes,”Nancyagreedandwentonmusingly,“It’sstrange,butheremindsmeofsomeone.”Tryasshewould,Nancycouldnotplacetheresemblance.“Canyou tellmeanythingabout thepainting,Mr.Gregory,besides thefactthatitwasdonatedbytheDuvalfamily?”

Thecuratorpointedtosomesmall,scriptlikemarkingsinthelowerright-handcornerofthecanvas.“Well,Ihavedecipheredtheartist’ssignature.HewasAntoineGrivet,aminorFrenchpainterwhoflourishedinthelate1700s.Thedateislesseasytomakeout,butappearstobe1790.”

“Isthereanywaytofindoutwhoseportraitthiswas?”Nancyasked.“Hm,yes, itmaybepossible toestablish thesubjectof thepicture.One

wouldhavetoconsultanexpertwhospecializesinFrenchartofthatperiod.There’s a chap in NewYork whomight be able to help. I’ll call him thisafternoon.”

Mr.Gregoryreplacedthepaintingintheclosetandlockedthedoor,thenglancedathiswatch.“Oh,mygoodness.Ihaveameetingwiththetrusteesinfiveminutes.Nancy,couldyouexcuseme?”

“Ofcourse.AndthankseversomuchforlettingmeknowabouttheDuvalpainting.”

“Apleasure,mydear. It’s the least I could do after your efforts to helpsolvethosebreak-ins.”

Theypartedoutsidethecurator’soffice.Mr.Gregorybustledoffdownthecorridor.AsNancywalkedtowardthemarblestaircasewhichleddownintothelobby,shehappenedtoglanceinanopendoorway.Adark-hairedyoungwoman inabluesmockwasbentovera framedpaintingonaworktable infrontofher,carefullyexaminingandcleaningthepaintedcanvas.Theyoung

womanlookedupandtheireyesmet.“Hi,Nancy!”Shewasthecurator’sassistant,JaneHeron.“Onthetrailof

anothermystery?”“Well,asmallone.”Nancypausedforamomenttochat.“ButsofarI’m

nothavingmuchluck.”“What’sthemystery,mayIask?”“How that televisionnews report thismorning came to nameme as the

onewho discovered that Lee Talbot’s prize-winning painting looked like apictureinthemuseum.”

“Butyouaretheone,aren’tyou?”Nancy smiled ruefully. “Yes and no. Actually it was a reporter for the

Record,PeterWorden,whofirstnoticedthesimilarity.Ijusthappenedtospotthe picture he had in mind. It was the one I photographed down in thebasementstoragearea,remember?”

MissHeronnodded,lookingtroubled.“Yes,indeedIdo.”“But,yousee, Iknewthediscoverywas likely tostirupagooddealof

unpleasantness,andIdidn’twanttobecomeinvolved.SoIaskedMr.Wordennot to mention my name when he wrote his news story. He promised hewouldn’t, and he assures me he kept his promise. Yet the televisionnewscasterthismorningnamedmeasthepersonwhomadethediscovery.”

“Oh,dear!”AlookofdistresshadcomeoverJaneHeron’sface.“Nancy,I’mverymuchafraidthatI’mtheonewho’stoblame!”

“You?” Nancy stared at the museum staffer in surprise. “I don’tunderstand.Howdidithappen?”

MissHeronexplainedunhappilythatatelevisioncameracrewhadcometo the museum to photograph the picture in question, after picking upWorden’s storyover thenewswire, evenbefore it appeared in themorningRecord.

“They wanted to interviewme,” she went on, “but at the time I knewnothing about the matter, so all I could tell themwas that I had seen youphotographingthepicture.Theymusthaveassumedfromthatthatyouweretheonewho’ddiscoveredthesimilarityofthetwopaintings.”

The girl detective respondedwith a thoughtful nod. “Yes, that probablyexplainsit.”

“Oh,Nancy, I’m terribly sorry!” JaneHeron exclaimed, reaching out tosqueezeherhand.“Ijustwasn’tusingmyhead.Ishouldhavespokentoyoubefore mentioning your name. Can you possibly forgive me for not beingmorecautious?”

Seeing that the woman was upset, Nancy summoned a smile. “Don’tworry, you had no way of knowing. In your place, I might have done thesame.Atleastyou’vesolvedonemysteryforme.”

Afterleavingthemuseum,NancydecidedtovisitPierreMichaud,tosee

howhewascomingalongrepairinghisinvention,andalsototellhimaboutthelatestdevelopmentsinhiscase.

Whenshearrivedathisworkshop,shefoundhimbusilyatworkwithhistools and electronic equipment. “You see, Nancy, a representative of theNationalComputerCompanycalled and said theywere interested in seeingmy memory device. So I must have everything ready to demonstrate myinventionwhenhecomeshere.Hemaybe inRiverHeightswithin thenextdayortwo.”

“Golly,canyoubereadythatsoon?”“Oui,ifthatiswhenheiscoming,thenImustbeready,evenifitmeans

workingdayandnight,”Pierrerepliedwithasmile.“Anythingispossibleifoneworkshardenough!IsthatnotwhatyousayhereinAmerica?”

Watching his mobile features while he talked, Nancy was struck by asuddenrealization.Nowsheknewwhomthemanintheportraitremindedherof!Nodoubtthewighadthrownheroff.

“Issomethingwrong?”Pierreinquired,seeingherstartledexpression.Nancy’sblueeyestwinkled.“Farfromit.Infactyoujustmadesomething

comerightforme.”Shedescribedthepicturewhichthemuseumcuratorhadshownherandaskedifbyanychanceitmightbeapaintingofsomeoneinhisfamily.

“Maisnon,Nancy.ItcouldnotbeaMichaud.Myfamilywasofhumbleorigin.Novelvetorgold-embroideredclothesforus!”Helaughedandaddedwithawaveofhishandtowardthecomputerassembly.“Theremaybebeforelong,though,ifIcangetthisfinishedandsellit!”

Nancywas about to leave a short time laterwhen an expensive-lookingcar pulled up outside the building and Pierre’s backer, Mr. Varney, camestriding into the workshop. The big, vigorous-looking financier seemedpreoccupiedanddisturbed.

“Myboy,”heblurted,“Idon’tlikethewaythingsareshapingup,notonebit.”

“Doyoumeantheexplosion,sir?”Pierreaskedanxiously.“Not only the blast itself, but the news report thatwas broadcast about

whathappened.Doyou realize thiscould ruinyourchancesof sellingyourinvention?Nobodywants to invest insomethingsorisky itmayblowup inhisface!”

“But, Mr. Varney, you were here just after it happened. You know theexplosionwasnotmyfault.MissDrewwilltellyouthatthecomputerIwasusingtodemonstratemydevicehadbeenbobby-trapped.Someenemywireditwithabombthatwassettogooffwhenthecomputerwasturnedon!”

“Yes,yes,weknowall that.But that iscertainlynot the impression thatlisteners to the news broadcast will get. I’m sorry, but I may have toreconsidergivingyouanyfurtherfinancialsupport!”

Pierre’s facewasglum.“Ihopeyouwillnotdecide toohastily, sir,nowthat my work has progressed this far. In spite of the accident, anothercomputermanufacturerisalsointerestedinmymemorydevice.”

TheyoungFrenchmantoldhisbackeraboutthecallwhichhehadalreadymentioned to Nancy. Then, pacing about the workshop with a worriedexpression,Pierrewenton,“Iwilladmit,sir,Iwasquiteupsetmyselfaboutthatnewsbroadcast. IonlywishIcouldfindoutwhocirculated thestory. Ievencalledtheradiostation,buttheycouldtellmenothing.”

“But theymusthavegotten their informationsomewhere”put inNancy.“Wouldn’ttheyrevealtheirsource?”

“They said only that someone had phoned the story to their news desk.Thepersonwhotookitdownsimplyassumedthecallcamefromoneofthenewsservicestowhichthestationsubscribes.”

Nancyfrowned.“Obviouslyyouhaveanenemy,Pierre.Thecallermusthavebeensomeonewho’stryingtostopyoufromsellingyourinvention.”

Mr.Varney,witha lookofalarm,said,“Foryourownsafety’ssake,myboy,maybeyououghttostopworkforawhile.Orperhapsmovetoanotherarea.”

“But I amalreadysetuphere inRiverHeights, sir.Whyshould I leavewhenmyworkisprogressingsowell?”

Thefinancierpursedhislipsandfrowned.“Atleastthinkaboutit.I’llletyou knowmy own decision soon.”With a nod to both Nancy and Pierre,Varneyleftanddroveaway.

Nancy,seeing thatPierrehadagreatdealonhismindinaddition tohispressing work schedule, left soon afterward with a few parting words ofencouragement.Shedrovetoherfather’soffice.

Nancygaveasighofreliefassheenteredhiscomfortableprivatesanctumwithitsdeepleatherchairs,polisheddarkwood,andwall-wideshelvesfilledwithlawbooks.

“Why,Nancy!Thisisanicesurprise.”CarsonDrewrosefrombehindhisdesktogiveherahugandakiss.

“Thanksforlettingmebargeinonyou,Dad.I’vehadsuchanupsettingmorning!AndIneedsomegoodlegaladvice.”

“Well,tellyourolddadallaboutit.Thenwe’llgoandhaveanicelunch.”Mr.DrewwaiteduntilNancywascomfortably seated, then settleddown tolisten.

ItwasarelieftoNancytotellherfatheraboutheraccidentalinvolvementin theprizepaintingdispute.Shehad just finisheddescribing theangrycallshe had received during breakfast fromLeeTalbotwhen the phone onMr.Drew’sdeskrang.

Hepickeditup,listenedforamomentashissecretarytoldofsomeoneontheline,andsaidhewouldtakethecall.

“CarsonDrew here…Oh yes,Counsellor…Hm.Well,why don’twemeethereinmyofficeat3:30thisafternoon?Ifyoucaretobringyourclient,I’llhavemydaughterhereatthattimeandwecandiscussthematter…Verywell,sir.Seeyouat3:30.”

Mr. Drew hung up and looked at Nancy. “That was Aaron Locke, LeeTalbot’slawyer.You’rebeingsuedforlibel.”

16

TheFrenchImposter

Nancy gasped in dismay on hearing about the lawsuit. But Carson Drewmerelysmiledathisdaughter.

“Comenow,don’tbeupset. I thinkagood lunch is justwhatyouneed.Let’sgo.”

“Okay,Dad,”Nancy said, accompanying him out the office door. “Youknow,IthinkI’masangryatLeeTalbotasIamworried.”

MrDrewchuckled.“Good!Butdon’tletitinterferewithyourappetite.”Theywere soonseated in thequiet,oakbeamed,English-style restaurant

thatCarsonDrewfavoredforitsgoodfoodandefficientservice.NancywassohungrythatshetuckedintohereggsBenedictandlistened

toherfatherdiscussoneofhisinterestingcases.Whendessertarrivedandhesawthatshewasinbetterspirits,hechangedthesubject.

“Nowletme tellyouaboutavisit Ihad thismorningconcerningPierreMichaud.”CarsonDrewpaused to takea sipofcoffeeasNancy lookedupfromherFrenchpastrywithkeeninterest.

“Avisit?…Fromwhom?”“FellowsaidhisnamewasHenriGrison.AFrenchlawyer.”“Whatdidhewant,Dad?”Nancyasked.“InformationaboutPierre.DidIknowhim?Wherewashestaying?What

washedoinghereintheUnitedStates?Anythingandeverythinghecouldpryoutofme.”

“Howmuchdidyoutellhim?”“Exactlynothing,exceptthatI’dmettheyoungmaninquestion.”Carson

Drewtookaforkfulofapplepie.“Iwonderwhathewasafter,”Nancymusedaloud.“Precisely what I asked him after he finished trying to pump me for

information,”Mr.Drewreplied.“Yes?”Nancyprompted.“HesaidPierrewasanunsavorycharacter,outtocheatpeopleoutoftheir

money—aconman,infact.HeclaimedtohavefollowedPierre’strailfromParis to this country. But he never did give me a straight answer to myquestionregardinghisowninterestinPierreMichaud.”

CarsonDrewreachedintohispocketandtookoutabusinesscard,which

hehanded toNancy. “Soafterhe leftmyoffice, I calledoneofmyFrenchlegalcolleagues,gavehim theaddresson thecard,andaskedhim tocheckoutGrison.”

“Hashereportedbackyet?”“Yes,justafewminutesbeforeyoushowedupinmyoffice.Hetoldme

there’snoattorneyatthataddress,andnosuchpersonasHenriGrisonevenpracticinglawinParis.”

SomehowNancywasnottoosurprisedatthisnews.Suddenlyshehadaninspiration. Could Henri Grison be the menacing thug who had beenfollowingher, andwhohad lain inwait forheroutside thehouse theothernight?

“Dad,wasGrison a rather tough-looking, swarthymanwith thick, darkeyebrowsandsortofaheavyjutjaw?”

“Doesn’t sound much like him. This fellow was a tall man, slightlybalding,withglasses.”

Nancysighedandsmiled.“Iguessthisisn’tmyday.”Whileherfatherwasfinishinghiscoffee,NancyexcusedherselftocallPoliceChiefMcGinnisfromthetelephone

boothintherestaurant’slounge.“ChiefMcGinnis,thisisNancyDrew.Iwon’tkeepyoubutaminute.May

Iaskafavor?”“Anytime,Nancy.Justfireaway.”The teenage detective related the details of Louise Duval’s death thirty

yearsago.“Wouldyoupleasecheckthepolicefilestoseeiftherewasanyreportof

foulplayinconnectionwithherheartattack?Imean,didhermaidordoctorcall in toreport that itwasbroughtonbyaredcar tryingtorunherdown?Andifso,wasthereanyfollow-upinvestigation?”

“Hm.”Thepolicechiefpausedtoconsiderforamoment.“Thatmaynotbetooeasy,Nancy.I’mnotsurehowcompleteourfileswouldbe,goingthatfar back. But I’ll see what I can find out and let you know if I turn upanything.”

Afterthankinghim,Nancyhungup.TheDrewswalkedbacktothelawofficetogetherandNancysaidgood-

bye.“Ireallyfeelalotbetter,Dad,”shesaidcheerfullyastheyparted.“Seeyouat3:30.”

Nancygotintohercar,keyedtheignition,andswungoutintotraffic.ShewasgoingtokeepherpromisetodropbyEmilyOwsler’sapartment.

Gradually,shebecameawarethatshewasbeingfollowed.Butthistimeitwas not a big, old-fashioned red car. It was a smaller, dark green one. Tomakesureherimaginationwasn’tworkingovertime,Nancypulledovertothecurbasifforacloserlookatsomedressesondisplayinashopwindow.Sure

enough, the shadowcar too came to a stop down the block.And asNancydroveaway,thedarkgreencaralsopulledoutfromthecurbagaintofollowher.

Nancy decided on a plan. A minute or two later, after passing a gasstation,shestoppedforasecondtime,pullingovertothecurbabruptlyjustpast the service stationdriveway.Takingout her compact, shepretended tocheckonherhairandmakeup.Butasthedarkgreencarwentby,shenotedthelicenseplatenumberandstudieditsdriverinhercompactmirror.

Hewastheswarthysnoopshehadjustdescribedtoherfather!Closing her purse, Nancy quickly backed around into the gas station

driveway,thenspedoffintheoppositedirection.Afterzigzaggingbackandforth for anumberofblocks, she felt confident that shehad shakenoffherpursuer.

Before reaching Emily Owsler’s home, however, Nancy stopped at acornerphoneboothandcalledChiefMcGinnis.

“Sorrytobotheryouagain,”sheapologized,“butI’mbeingfollowedbyaman in a dark green car. If I give you his license plate number, could youcheckitout,please?”

“Surething,Nancy.I’llletyouknowassoonasIhaveanyinformation.”Nancy finished the trip to Emily Owsler’s apartment and rang the

doorbell, wondering if her visit would prove a waste of time. One look atMissOwsler’shappyface,however,wasamorethansufficientanswer,inone

respect at least. The lonely oldwoman obviously enjoyed having companyandwasdelightedatthechancetobecomeinvolvedinsomethingexciting.

“Oh, Nancy, I do hope you can get a clue from this album!” she said,leadingthewayintohertiny,crowdedlivingroom.

“Webothhopeso,”Nancyrespondedwithasmile.“I keep it in this closet,”MissOwslerwent on, opening a door in one

corneroftheroom.Theclosetcontainedafewcoatsandjacketsandanumbrella.Onashelf

above the rack lay a thick, old black book with a hat on top of it. EmilyOwslerreachedupwithbothhands.Butasshetriedtoholdthehatandtakedownthebook,shelosthergripontheheavyalbumanditfelltothefloor.Afolded,yellowingsheetofparchmentspilledoutfrombetweenitspages.

“Ohdear,howclumsyofme,”MissOwslerquavered.Nancy picked up the album and glanced at the parchment, which had

come open. Suddenly her eyes sparkledwith excitement. “Why, it’s an oldletter,”sheexclaimed,“writteninFrench!”

Evenmoreimportant,Nancysawataglance,itbeganwiththewordsMachereYvette!

17

ATantalizingTranslation

Nancy understood French and could hardly wait to read the letter. MissOwslerinsistedthattheyoungsleuthsitdownandmakeherselfcomfortableontheoverstuffedsofa,whileshewent to thekitchenandmade themsometea.

As theelderlywomanbustledoff to thekitchen,Nancyeagerlyperusedtheletter.ItwasdatedMarch23,1797,fromBrighton,England.

DearYvette,Imustwriteinhasteinorderthatthislettermaygoaboardthemailpacket

beforeitsails.Iregrettoreportthatalloureffortshavestillfailedtofindyourpreciouslosttreasuresounhappilyleftbehindbyforceofcircumstancewhenyou crossed the Channel from France three years ago. Wartime turmoilrenders our search evermore difficult, but do not despair!Our effortswillcontinuewithoutcease!Meanwhile,myhusbandandIsendourbestwishesand hopes that you and Paulmay find happiness in your new home in theUnitedStates.

Yourlovingsister,Charlotte

As she finished reading the letter, Nancy’s thoughts raced back to lastnight’s scene in the Thorpes’ attic, when she and Lisa had found Yvette’sweddingring.NancywasnowmoreconvincedthaneverthatherguesswasrightaboutYvette’shavingbeenwedtwice.IfshehadlivedinFrancebeforemarrying Paul, perhaps her previousmarriage had occured in that country,andherhusband,Philippe,haddiedtherebeforehercrossingtoEngland.

Butwhatwas the“lost treasure” referred to in the letter?AndwhathadLouiseDuvalfoundoutaboutit?Wasthatwhatthepresentmysterywasallabout,andwhatthevariousunknownpartiesinthiscasewerehuntingfor?

Nancy barely had time to consider these questions when Miss Owslercamebackwithteathingsonatray.

“Now, dear, we’ll have a nice cup of tea while we look through thealbum,”shesaid.

As theysat sidebysideon the sofa sipping their tea,withMissOwslerturning thepages andcommentingon the snapshots andotherphotographs,

Nancy’sthoughtswerestilloccupiedwiththeletter.Shescarcelynoticedthepicturesastheformermaidpointedthemout.

But suddenly thewomanexclaimed triumphantly.Shewaspointing toaphotoofLouiseDuvalstandingwithamaninfrontofabuildingthatlookedlikeanoldgristmill,ofthekindstillfoundintheNortheasternstates.

“That’shim!”EmilyOwslercried.“That’s themanMissDuvalhired todotheresearchforherthatsummerjustbeforeshepassedaway!Irememberhisfacenow.”

“Oh,wonderful!”Nancycouldhardlybelievehergoodluck,butrealizedshehadbetternotcongratulateherselftoosoonwithoutmoretogoon.“Doesseeinghispicturebyanychanceremindyouofhisname?”

“Oh dear … let me see now.” The elderly woman thought hard, thenshookherhead,lookingcrestfallen.“I’mafraidnot,”sheconfessed,smilingwistfully.“Iseemtohaveahardtimerememberingnamesthesedays.”

“Mygoodness,don’tworryabout that,”Nancysaidwithagentle laugh.“So does everybody at some time or other.What about the place, though?Thatbuildinglookslikeanoldmill.Haveyouanyideawherethepicturemayhavebeentaken?”

AgainEmilyOwsler rakedhermemorybutwas forced togiveup.“No,I’mafraidnot,dear,”shesaid,shakingherheadregretfully.

“Nevermind,MissOwsler.You’vebeena tremendoushelp!Wouldyoumindlettingmeborrowthispictureforadayortwo?I’llbeverycarefulwithit.”

“Yes, of course.Do take it. I hope itwill help you solve yourmysterycase.”AndEmilyOwsler began carefullypeeling thegluedphoto from thealbumpage.

After thanking thewoman for the tea and the valuable discoveries theyhad just made, Nancy returned to her blue sports car parked in the streetbelow.

ShewaseagertoshowthesnapshottoProfessorCrawford’sdaughter.Butrememberingthe3:30appointmentatherdad’sofficewithLeeTalbotandhisattorney, Nancy curbed her impatience and turned her car toward the lawoffice.

Driving along Main Street, she decided to stop at the River HeightsCamera Shop and pick up her developed roll of film and pictures. Theyincludedanenlargedprintofherphotographofthemuseum’spainting.

Withthissafelyinherpurse,Nancydrovetotheappointmentinaslightlymoreconfidentframeofmind.

TheteenagesleutharrivedattheofficeonlymomentsafterLeeTalbotandhislawyerhadappeared.Theartist,elegantlydressedasalways,wassoangryhewasbarelycivil.Ignoringhisrudemanner,CarsonDrewintroducedNancytoTalbot’ssmall,sharp-featuredattorney,andtheyallsatdown.

BrushingasideMr.Drew’seffortstosetoutthefactsclearlyandwithoutbias, Aaron Locke belligerently began telling the Drews that Nancy hadgrievouslywrongedLeeTalbotandbesmirchedhisreputationandcharacter,andthattheonlyproblemtoberesolvedwashowmuchshouldbepaidtohisclientindamages.

“Well now, before we get to that,” Carson Drew’s voice cut incisivelythroughLocke’sblusteringspeech,“let’sgetafewpreliminaryfactsstraight.WhatexactlydoesMr.Talbothavetosayregardingthisallegedresemblanceofhisprize-winningpaintingtothepictureinthemuseum?”

LeeTalbotglaredhaughtilyatthedistinguishedlawyer.“Ihavenothingtosay, sir! I’vebeen toour localmuseum,naturally, and Imayhave seen thepicture inquestion at some timeor other.Perhaps theremayevenbe someslightsuperficialresemblance.Butanyallegationofcopyingisridiculous!”

“Verywell,you’veheardmyclient’sanswer,”AaronLockesaidinahardvoice.“Nowthen,areyougoingtosettle…”

Beforehecouldgoanyfurther,Nancytooktheenlargedphotographofthemuseumpaintingoutofhershoulderbag.Withoutaword, shehanded it toLeeTalbotandhislawyer,whoweresittingnexttoeachother.

No words were needed. At sight of the photograph, the blond artist’smouthdroppedopen in shocked surprise, and the lookonhis lawyer’s facefroze in dismay. Itwas clear from their expressions that both had instantlyrealizedhowsuspiciouslyalikethetwopaintingwere!

Nancy said quietly, “Of course I’ve said nothing yet to the police, Lee.Butwhentheyseetheevidence,theymightgettheideayouhadamotiveforthosemuseumbreak-ins…inotherwords,thatyouweretryingtoremoveordestroytheoriginalpaintingthatwouldproveyourplagiarism.”

Lee Talbot’s face had turned sickly pale. Nancy had chosen her wordscarefully, to see how he would respond. But his reaction had alreadyconvincedherthattheartistwasinnocentandhadnotdeliberatelycopiedthemuseumwork.Morelikelyhehadseenthepictureatsometimeinthepast,and its compositionhad impressedhim somuch that the imagehad lodgeddeep in his memory, and then emerged again in his own painting withoutconsciousintent.

TalbotlookedhelplesslyatAaronLocke,whobynowhadlostallofhisown bluster and aggressiveness. Both were silent, obviously at a loss forwords.

CarsonDrewsteppedintothevoid.“Perhaps,Mr.Locke,you’dliketimetoconsultwithyourclient?”

Theotherattorneyclearedhisthroat.“Tellyouwhat,Counsellor.I’llcallyoutomorrowmorning.Perhapswecanworksomethingout.”AaronLockehadrecoveredhisfacade.

ButLeeTalbot looked steadily at him, then atNancy’s father and. said,

“No,Mr.Drew.Wewon’tbecallingyou.Idon’twant—”Locke hastily interrupted, “Now, now!We’ll talk before coming to any

decision.”And,bothhavingrisen,hehustledtheartistoutthedoor.CarsonDrewsmiledatNancy.“Idon’tthinkwe’llhearanymorethreats

fromthosetwo.Congratulations!Youhandledthatbeautifully.”Nancy drove her father home that afternoonwith a considerably lighter

heart.Shewas lookingforward tohelpingHannahwithdinnerandwas justputtingonanaproninthekitchenwhenthephonerang.SheanswereditandheardthekindlybaritonevoiceofPoliceChiefMcGinnis.

“Hi,Nancy.ChiefMcGinnishere. Ihavea traceon that licensenumberyougaveme.The carbelongs to a rental agency, and their records show itwassignedouttoaFrenchtourist,amannamedAndreFreneau.”

Nancy felt a thrill of satisfaction.At last shehad identifiedher swarthyshadow!“Idon’tsupposeyou’dknowifhehasanycriminalrecord?”

“That’s the next step, Nancy. I’ve already put through a request forinformationonhimtoInterpol.Butitmaytaketime.I’llgetbacktoyouassoonasIlearnanything.”

Afterthankingthepolicechief,Nancywentbacktohersaladmaking.Shehad no sooner finished washing the lettuce and the escarole when thetelephonerangagain.

“I’llgetit,Hannah,”Nancysaid,dryingherhands.“I’veafeelingit’sforme,anyway.”

Shewasright.ThecallerwasMr.Gregory,themuseumcurator.“I’vejusthadatalkwiththatNewYorkartexpertImentioned,Nancy,”

Mr.Gregory reported. “He’s a specialist inFrench art of the period around1800. In his opinion, our museum painting by Antoine Grivet is almostcertainlyaportraitofaFrenchnobleman,theComted’Auvergne!”

18

TheOldGowns

Thenextmorningwasabrisk,sunshinyday.Nancywasdelightedwhenshelooked out the window. She was already intending to drive to the littlecrossroadsvillageofAlton,whereProfessorCrawford’sdaughter lived,andshowher the snapshot fromLouiseDuval’s album.Todaywouldbeperfectforherdriveintothecountry!

Afterbreakfast,shetelephonedBessMarvintoinvitehertocomealong.“Oh gee,Nancy, I can’t! I have an appointmentwith the dentist,” Bess

lamented.“ButGeorgeishere.Wanttoaskher?”“Yes,great!Iwasgoingtocallhernext,anyhow,sowecouldmakeita

threesome.”Aftera fewminutes’ talkwithaneagerGeorge,Nancyarranged topick

her up atBess’s place in fifteenminutes. “Oh, andGeorge,”Nancy added,“pleaseaskBess tomeetushereatmyhouse for lunchwhenwegetback.Thenwecanallhaveagoodchat.”

BesshadalreadylefttokeepherappointmentwhenNancyparkedinfrontof theMarvins’ house.George came running out of the door, her coat andscarfflyinginthewind,beforeNancycouldturnofftheengine.

“Golly,whatfun!”Georgesaidbreathlesslyasshejumpedintothecarandslammedthedoor.“Thewoods’llbebeautiful,withtheleavesallturning!Bytheway,what’rewegoingtoinvestigatetoday?”

Nancytoldher.“ButfirstIhavetostopatWestmoorU.,”sheadded,“andtalktoProfessorSchmidtinthehistorydepartment.”

When they reached the university, the two girls left Nancy’s car in thevisitors’ parking lot and walked to the professor’s office. They found himcheckingthroughapileofexampapers.

“How can I help you, Miss Drew?” he asked genially, taking out histobaccopouchtofillhispipeafterNancyhadsaidhelloandintroducedherfriend.

“LasttimeIwashere,youtoldmeProfessorCrawfordspecializedinthehistoryoftheFrenchRevolutionandtheNapoleonicWars.Isthatyourfield,too?”

“Not exactly.”Schmidt paused to light his pipe. “I do teach a course inthatperiodofFrenchhistory,butIcertainlycan’tclaimtobeasexpertinitas

Dr.Crawfordwas.MyownspecialtyistheThirdRepublic,roughlyacenturylater.Whydoyouask?”

“I was wondering what, if anything, you could tell me about a Frenchnoblemanwho lived during that earlier period, the Comte d’Auvergne. Doyourecognizethename?”Nancyasked.

“Hm, d’Auvergne.” The professor tapped his pipestem against his lipsreflectively. “I don’t. But I tell you what, if it’s important, I’ll check withsomeofmycolleaguesatotheruniversities.Icouldphonethemthismorning.Wouldthatdo?”

“Oh, Professor, I’d really appreciate it if you could,” Nancy replied.“Anything you can find outmight help in solving amystery case that I’mworkingon.ShouldIcallyouthisafternoon?”

“IfyouhaveaphonenumberthatIcanreachyouat,itmightbebettertoletme call you. I have classes all afternoon and a departmentmeeting thisevening.”

“Inthatcase,I’llgiveyoumyhomenumber,”Nancysaid,jottingitdown.“Andthankseversomuchforyourhelp!”SheandGeorgeweresoonontheirway.Theroadsidetreeswereaflame

withfallcolorsofredandorangeandgold,andbothgirlsthoroughlyenjoyedthescenery.

“WhomareyougoingtoseeinAlton,Nancy?”Georgeasked.“Professor Crawford’s married daughter. As I told you, Louise Duval

hired him to carry out some sort of research for her, apparently during hissummervacation thirtyyearsago.But shediedsoonafterward,andnowofcoursehe’sgone too.Andsofaras Iknow, theresultsofhis researchwereneverdisclosed.”

Nancy took her eyes off the road long enough to shoot a mischievousglanceathercompanionandadded,“Incidentally, I’veahunch I’mnot theonlyonewho’dliketolayhandsonit.”

George gave a slight, nervous shudder. “You know something? Thatsoundsprettysinister!”

“Yes,itdoes,doesn’tit.”ThegirlsarrivedshortlyatMrs.Grale’shome.“Come in, come in,Nancy,” she said,wiping her hands on a towel she

washolding.“I’vejustbeencleaningoutsomeclosetsandnowI’mreadyforacoffeebreak,soyouandyourfriendarejustintime.”

Leading theway into the kitchen, shewent on, “I justwant to get thiscoffeecakeoutoftheoven,andwecanhavesomeofitwhilewevisit.”

Soonallthreewerecomfortablyseatedinthesunnylivingroom.Astheysipped theircoffee,Nancy took thesnapshot fromthealbumoutofherbagandhandedittoMrs.Grale.“Doesthismeananythingtoyou?”

Mrs. Grale studied the photo and smiled reminiscently. “Oh my, yes.

That’smyfatherwiththatwomanyoumentioned—um—MissDuval.IthinkIevenrememberwhenthiswastaken.”

“Thenyourecognizethelocation?”“Ohyes,ofcourse.That’smyfather’sretreat…it’sanoldgristmillnear

Peachtown.He fell in lovewith theplace andbought it and restored it.Heusedtogothereandwrite…textbooks,youknow,andarticlesforhistoricaljournals.”

George asked to see the snapshot and admired the old mill in thebackground.“Whathappenedtoit?”sheasked.

“Why, it’s still standing. It belongs to me now, but I let the historicalsocietythereuseitasatouristattraction.”

“SinceMissDuvalwasphotographedtherewithyourfather,”Nancysaid,keepingherfingerscrossed,“doyousupposethere’sachancethatanyofhisresearchreportsmightstillbethere?”

Mrs. Grale wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully as she offered the girlsmorecoffeecake.“Doyouknow,that’sanidea!”shemused.“Cometothinkof it,my father’s old desk is still there. It’s on the upper floor of themill,where he did his working and reading. And I’m almost certain there werepapersstill in thedrawers last timeI looked.Justoddsandends, though—Idoubtifthere’sanythingimportant.”

“WouldyoumindifIvisitedthemillandcheckedoutthedesk?”Nancyasked. “I might find a clue to whatever research he was doing for MissDuval.”

“Ofcourseyoumay,”Mrs.Graleansweredunhesitatingly.“I’lllendyouakeyandphoneahead to thePeachtownHistoricalSociety to let themknowyou’recoming.They’reinchargeofthemillandwatchoverit,”sheadded,smiling.

Elatedandhopeful,NancyandGeorgechattedawhile longerwithMrs.Grale,thenleftafterthankingherfortherefreshmentsandallherhelp.

BesswaswaitingeagerlywhenthetwogirlswalkedintotheDrews’houseanhour or so later. “Yikes, I thought I’d faintwithhunger!” she said. “Allthosedelicioussmellscomingoutofthekitchen…”

Nancylaughed.“Well,let’swashourhandsandtellHannahwe’rehome.ThenI’llsetthetable.”

“No need to, I did it already,” Bess said. Then as George burst outlaughing,sheaddeddefensively,“Well,ittookmymindoffthefood.”

While the three friends enjoyed Hannah’s seafood quiche and a greensalad,Nancybroughtthemuptodateonthedetailsofthecase.

AsshetoldthemaboutthetrunkfulofoldgownsinLisa’sattic,Besswasecstatic.“Ooh, I’d love tosee them!”shecried.“And just think,Nancy—ifYvette Duval was a spy, maybe that old peasant dress was one of herdisguises!”

Nancywasstruckbyherfriend’sidea.“Youknow,Bess,”shemurmuredthoughtfully,“youmighthavesomethingthere.”

Justthenthephonerang.WhenNancyansweredit,hercallerturnedouttobe Professor Schmidt, reporting back on what he had found out about theComted’Auvergne.

“HewasawealthyFrenchnoblemanwhoservedbriefly in theNationalAssemblyduringtheopeningdaysoftheRevolution,whentheywerewritinganewconstitutionforFrance.Butafewyearslaterhediedontheguillotine.”

“Theguillotine?”Nancyechoedinashockedvoice.“Howhorrible!”Sherecalled the handsome young man portrayed in the museum portrait andshudderedtothinkofhimsufferingsuchafate.

“Itwasabadtime,youknow,”ProfessorSchmidtwenton.“TheReignofTerror,theycalledit.Thousandsofpeopleendedupthesameway,especiallyaristocratslikethecount.”

Nancythankedhimforhishelpandhungup,stillshakenbywhathehadtoldher.Then,onasuddenimpulse,shecalledLisaThorpe.

After theyhadchatted fora fewmoments,Nancysaid,“Idon’twant tosoundtoohopeful,Lisa,butthere’sachance—justachance,mindyou—thatImaybeclosetosolvingthemysteryofwhyyourgreat-auntwrotethatlettertoPierre’sgrandfather.”

Lisawaseagertohearmore,butinstead,Nancydescribedhertwofriends’reactiononhearingabout theoldgowns in theattic, and thenasked if theymightseethem.

“By allmeans, Nancy!You and Bess andGeorgemust come over thisafternoon,”Lisasaid.

“Iknowyourfatherisn’tveryhappytohavemeintrude,soifyou’drathernot…”Nancylefttherestofthesentenceunspoken.

“Don’tgiveitanotherthought,”Lisasaidfirmly.“Thatnolongerbothersme. It happensmy father is at home this afternoon, but the invitation stillstands.Comeonover!”

Nancychuckledassheputthereceiverbackonitshook,feelinginbetterspiritsthanshehadafewminutesago.ItcertainlysoundedasifchangesweretakingplaceintheThorpehousehold!

WhenthethreegirlsarrivedatLisa’splace,theyweregreetedpolitelybutcoldlybyMr.Thorpe.HeretreatedtohisstudyasLisacameintothehall.Shesmiled happily at Bess and Nancy and showed equal pleasure in meetingGeorge.

“CouldweshowmycousinthatportraitofPaulandYvetteDuval,Lisa?”Bessasked,tryingtocontainherexcitement.

“Ofcourse…especiallysinceshe’stheladywhoworethegowns!”Aftertheyhadviewedtheportrait,Lisaledthewaytotheatticstaircase.Even on a bright afternoon, it was spooky up there, and Bess shivered

expectantly. But when the light was turned on and the trunk opened, sheforgotherapprehensioninherdelightovertherichclothes.

WhenGeorgeandBessexclaimedover thebrocadesandsatinsandfinemuslins, Nancy lifted out the rough peasant dress. As she did so, its hembrushedagainstthemetaledgeofthetrunkandsheheardaslightclink.

Nancygaveastart, themcheckedforthecauseofthesound.Somethingwassewnintothehemofthedress!

19

TheEyesHaveIt!

“What’sthematter,Nancy?”saidLisa,noticingthestartledexpressiononherface.

“Imaybewrong,”theteenagersaid,chokingbackasurgeofexcitement,“butsomethingtellsmeI’vejuststumbledonaclue!”

Theothergirls’eyeswidenedasNancyshowedthemabulgeinthehemoftheoldgown.Byfingeringit,theycouldseeandfeelthatthehiddenobjectwasoval-shapedandslightlylargerthanahalf-dollar.

“Quick! Someone open the hem and let’s see what’s in there!” Georgeexclaimed.

“Wait a sec! I’ll get some embroidery scissors!” Lisa scampereddownstairs and soon returnedwith the scissors.As the other threewatchedbreathlessly,shecutopenthehemandfishedouttheobjectwhichhadbeenconcealedinside.

Itwasaminiatureportrait,beautifullyenameledon ivory,ofa littleboyaboutfourorfiveyearsold!

AllfourgirlsstudiedtheminiaturewithavidinterestasLisaheldituptothelight.

“Whatadarlinglittleboy!”Bessgushed.“Gosh!I’llbetthat’sreallyvaluable!”hercousinadded.Theportraitwas

borderedallaroundtheedgewithtinyseedpearls.But Lisa and Nancy were more intrigued by the child’s features and

generalfacialappearance.Lisalookeduptensely.“Does that little boy remind you of anyone, Nancy?” she asked in a

slightlyhushedvoice.“Indeedhedoes!”Nancyrepliedwithatwinkle.“Whom?…Tellme,please!”“Thesamepersonheremindsyouof,I’llbet…PierreMichaud!”“Right!”Lisadeclaredemphatically.Themoretheystudiedtheminiatureportrait,themoretheywerestruckby

the resemblance. Despite the difference in ages, and the little boy’s softer,morebabyishfeatures,thelikenesswasunmistakeable!

The boy even had a dimple in his chin,which as he grew olderwould

doubtlesshavecometolookverymuchlikePierre’sstrong,cleftlowerjaw.“He’s a darling!”Bess repeated. “I especially like those big, dark eyes,

don’tyou,George?They’resowide-setand…sortofslanty!”“I’ll have to admit, he’s quite a charmer,” agreedGeorge, for once not

inclinedtomakefunofhercousin’sromanticnotions.“IfyourfriendPierrelooksanythinglikethis,Lisa,hemustbesomethingspecial.”

“Oh,heis—believeme!”Lisagiggled.ButNancywassilentandreflective.Bess’s remarkhadstartedasudden

trainofthought,remindingheroftheotherportraittheyhadjustseen.“Would you people come downstairs again for a moment?” the young

detectivesaidabruptly.“There’ssomethingI’dliketoshowyou.”“Okay,butwhat?”GeorgeFayneinquired.“I’drathernotsayanythingjustyetandletyoujudgeforyourselves.Lisa,

bringtheminiature,willyouplease?”Theothersfollowed,theircuriositypiquedbyNancy’swordsandmanner

assheledthewaybackdowntothefirst-floorhall,wherethedoubleportraitofPaulandYvetteDuvalwashangingonthewallnearthesunroom.

“Bess,” she said, “does either of these people have eyes like the littleboy’sintheminiature?”

BesssquealedinexcitementandpointedtoYvette.“Ofcourse!Shedoes!…Oh,Nancy!Howsmartofyoutonotice!”

Georgeconcurred,afterglancingbackandforthfromtheminiaturetotheoilportrait.“You’reright,Nancy.Theycertainlydohavethesamelookacrosstheeyes!”

“Andso,”theyoungdetectiveaddedsignificantly,“doesPierreMichaud!”Inthestartledsilencethatfollowed,LisaThorpelookedflabbergastedand

slightly dismayed. “You’re right,Nancy!But, good grief, are you implyingthatPierremaybeabloodrelativeofmine?”

Nancy laughed. “Don’t worry, he wouldn’t be a close enough one toprevent your marriage, if that’s what you’re wondering. Not after yourancestors have been living on opposite sides of the ocean for almost twocenturies!”

Lisaheavedalittlesighofreliefandjoinedintheothergirls’laughteratNancy’sreply.Butthenhermoodturnedserious.

“Youknow,thisisreallyquiteanimportantdiscovery.Ithinkweshouldtellmyfather.”

NortonThorpewasinhisden,goingoverasheafofbusinesspapersathisbeautiful fruit-wood desk. After announcing herself with a knock, Lisaenteredwithherfriendsandrelatedthestartlingnews.

Her father was flushed and angry and scoffed at her revelation. Heobviously found the idea thatPierreMichaudwas inanywayrelated tohiswife’s side of the family highly upsetting. But after careful scrutiny of the

miniature, it was clear that he, too, could see an unmistakable likenessbetweentheyoungFrenchmanandtheboyintheportrait—especiallyinviewofLouiseDuval’smysteriouslettertoPierre’sgrandfather.

“Confound it, this is the worst news I’ve heard in a long time!” heexplodedhuffily.“Ifyou’llforgivemybluntness,MissDrew,you’vebeenamostdisturbinginfluenceinthishouse!”

Gettingupfromhisdesk,theheavysetbusinessmanpacedirritablyabouttheroom.“Mindyou,”headdedwithascowlatNancy,“I’mstillnottotallyconvincedthatFrenchupstarthasanyconnectionwiththeDuvalfamily!”

Nancy decided that her best tactic was a simple, direct question. “Mr.Thorpe,whyareyousodeadsetagainstPierreMichaud?”sheaskedquietly.“Otherpeopleseemtofindhimperfectlydecentandlikeable.Doyouknowsomethingabouthimthattherestofusdon’t?”

NortonThorpestoppedpacingabruptlyandglaredattheyoungdetective.“Sinceyouaskme,MissDrew,Iseenoreasontobeataroundthebush.Theanswer isyes! IdoknowsomethingaboutMichaud thatyoudon’tknow—andletmeadd,it’snothingtohiscredit!”

HerelatedthatsoonafterPierre’sfirstvisittotheThorpehome,aFrenchlawyer had come to his office towarn him that the young inventorwas anunscrupulousswindlerandconartist.

“WhatwasthisFrenchlawyer’sname,Mr.Thorpe?”askedNancy.“Grison.HenriGrison.Iprobablystillhavehisbusinesscard.”Takinga

folder wallet from his inside coat pocket, Mr. Thorpe fingered through itscontentsandpluckedoutacard,whichhehandedtoNancy.

Sheglancedatitandsmiled.“Ithappensthissamepersoncametoseemyfather,who’salsoalawyer,”shetoldThorpe.“Dadtookthetroubletocheckhimout throughhisown legal correspondents inFrance.They toldhim theidentificationisfalse—there’snosuchlawyeratthisaddressoranywhereelseinParis.Theonlyconartististhisso-calledHenriGrisonhimself.”

NortonThorpewasclearlytakenabackbyNancy’sunexpectedreply.Butafterhummingandhawingforamoment,heseemedtoacceptwhatshehadjust told him. “Hmph, well, I must admit this puts matters in a somewhatdifferentlight,”heconceded.

Lisa was delighted by this sudden turn of events. “Nancy, you’re awonder!”sheexclaimed,givingthegirlaquickhug.

WithMr.Thorpe’spermission,NancynowphonedPierreathisworkshopandaskedhimtocomeandjointhem.TheyoungFrenchmannotonlydidsopromptly,butbroughtexcitingnewsofhisown.

“Justbeforeyoucalled,Nancy,IhadavisitfromthatrepresentativeoftheNational Computer Company,” Pierre reported. “His firm’s research anddevelopmentdepartmenthavealreadybeenoverthetestdataIsentthem.Andnowthathe’sseenhowmycomputermemoryoperates,hiscompany’sready

tonegotiatealicensingcontracttoproducemyinvention!”Thecontract,Pierreadded,wouldbringhimhugesumsinroyaltiesevery

year.This news was evidently all that was needed to bring about a further

drasticchangeinNortonThorpe’sattitudetowardtheyounginventor.“Well,myboy, itseemscongratulationsare inorder,”hebeamed,offeringPierreafirmhandshake.“Itwouldappearthatyou’reheadedforahighlysuccessfulindustrialcareer!”

TheexcitedreactiontoPierre’sannouncementhadbarelydieddownwhenNancyreturnedtothesubjectoftheoriginalmystery.“IbelieveInowknowwhy Miss Duval sent that letter to your grandfather, Pierre,” the teenagedetectivesaid.“Unfortunately,otherpeopleknowtoo,andIthinkthat’swhysuch unpleasant things have been happening to both of us since I beganinvestigatingthiscase.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense, Nancy!” Bess begged. “Clue us in on themystery!”

Buttheprettyyoungsleuthsmiledandshookherhead.“Notyet.BeforeImakeanybrashstatements,Iwantproof—andIthinkIknowwheretolookforit.”

Nancy was hoping that Professor Crawford’s desk in the old mill nearPeachtownmightstillholdsomerecordsornotesofthehistoricalresearchhehad done for Louise Duval. If so, this material could either confirm ordisprovehertheory.

After explaining all this to the others, she pointed out thatmuch of theprofessor’s information had probably come fromFrench sources. ThereforePierremightbeabletohelphertranslateandsortthroughsuchmaterialmorequickly.

“Wouldyoubewillingtocomewithme?”sheaskedhim.“Ofcourse,Nancy.Whenwouldyouliketogo?”“Peachtown’squiteadrivefromhere.Sothesoonerweleave,thesooner

we’llbeback.”Pierrechuckledandshrugged.“Inthatcase,letusleavetoutdesuite!”Thetwostartedoutinhopefulhighspirits.Butanannoyingdelaywasin

store.HalfwaytoPeachtown,Nancy’scaroverheatedandstalled.Afterithadbeen towed to the nearest repair garage, the troublewas traced to a brokenwaterpump,andanewonehadtobesentfor.While thiswasbeingput in,Nancy and Pierre ate an early dinner of hamburgers and french fries at aroadsidedrive-in.Itwasafterdarkwhentheyreachedtheirdestination.

The oldmill,with itswaterwheel andmill-race,was located in a ruralsetting which might have been delightful to explore on a sunny summerafternoon.But now, as theypulledupoutside the old building,with a chillnightwindrustling theautumnleaves,agloomyandforbiddingatmosphere

pervadedthescene.Nancyshiveredastheygotoutofthecar.“Let’shopethisdoesn’ttaketoo

long,”shemurmuredtoPierre.AfteropeningthemilldoorwiththekeythatMrs.Gralehadlenther,they

mountedaricketywoodenstaircasewhichspiraledupwardtoaloftlikeroomabovethemill’smachineryandgrindstones.

The room,whichwas dusty and evidently seldomused, had been fittedoutintoacom-

fortabledenandstudy.Nancyutteredalittlecryofexcitementasshesawan old desk in one corner near awindow.Her excitement increasedwhen,after checking two drawers, she came upon a well-filled loose-leaf binderlabeledReporttoLouiseDuval.

“Look!” she cried jubilantly, holding it up to showPierre. “This shouldgiveusalltheanswers!”

TheyoungFrenchmanbeamedalookofadmirationattheteenager.“You

are indeedanamazingdetective,Nancy!Andhaveyoualreadyguessed thecontentsofthatreport?”

Nancy nodded as she glanced through its opening pages. “I think I canguessthegistofit,anyhow,thoughIwon’tknowforsureuntilIreadallofthis.Ifmytheory’sright,Pierre,you’rethepresentCountd’Auvergne!”

His jaw dropped open in astonishment. “Are you saying I am a … aFrenchnobleman?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. And, hopefully, this report byProfessorCrawfordshouldsupplytheproof.”

“You’re quite right, my dear Miss Drew,” boomed a familiar voice.“Which,I’mafraid,spellsbadnewsforbothofyou!”

Thetwoyoungpeoplewhirledinsurpriseandsawthataburlyfigurehadjustburstintotheroom.HewasPierre’sfinancialbacker,Mr.Varney!Besidehim stood a short,muscular, apelikeman clad in a checked suit and greenturtleneck with a cap pulled jauntily low over one eye. He was carryingsomethinginhishand.

“Mr.Varney!”Pierreexclaimed.“Howdidyougethere?”“Noproblem,monami.”Withachuckle,Varneygestured tohisapelike

companion.“Mygarconhere,LouieBousha,managedtoslipintotherepairgaragewhereMissDrew’scarwasbeingfixedafteritsdownhillcrashinthestorm.While themechanicwasbusy in the frontof theshop,heslippedanelectronicbeeperunderitsrearbumper,sothatwehadsimplytofollowyourradiosignal.Amostconvenientwayoftrailingyouwithoutbeingseen!”

“Verywell,”Nancy said, trying to appear cool. “Soyou’ve followedushere, and you just heard me tell Pierre about Professor Crawford’s report.Whatgoodwillitdoyou?”

“Itwillenablemetogetridofyouboth,MissDrew,beforeyoucausemeanymoretrouble.Louie,doyouhavetheanestheticready?”

“Righthere in thiscan!”Theapelikemangrinned,slippingamaskoverhisnoseandmouth.“Onewhiffwillputthemoutfast!”

Varney turned back to face Nancy and Pierre. “You will then be takenoutsideandputinMissDrew’scar,withtheenginerunningandalldoorsandwindowsclosed.Louie,whoisanexcellentmechanic,willmakesurethereisanexhaustleakintothepassengercompartment.Youcanimagine,Iamsure,whatwillbethestateofyourhealthafterinhalingthosedeadlyfumes!”

20

HistoryLesson

Nancycaughtherbreath indismay,but triednot to lether fearshowinhereyes.“Don’tberidiculous,”sheretorted.“Youcan’tpossiblygetawaywithsuchacrazyscheme!

“Butwhynot,MissDrew?”Varney’slipscurvedinamockingsmile.“Awindisblowing,thenightisgettingcolder.Andthereiscertainlynoheatinthisoldmill.Sonaturally, if the twoofyoushoulddecide tositand talk inyourcar,youwouldlettheenginerunandturnontheheaterinordertokeepwarm.Unfortunately,itwillappearthatyousattherechattingtoolong,withthe windows closed, unaware of the dangerous exhaust leak. Enfin, theunhappy result can only be called an accident, n’est-cepas?” The financierbrokeoffwithaharshlaugh.

PierreMichaudstaredathiminangrybewilderment.“Whatisallthisyouare saying,Varney?Before tonight, you have helpedme and supportedmywork! But now you come here acting like an enemy! Like a criminalwhowishestogetridofmeandmyfriend,NancyDrew!Haveyoulostyourmind,monsieur?Andwhy,”Pierreadded,frowningintently,“areyounowspeakinglikeaFrenchman,insteadofanAmerican?”

“BecauseheisaFrenchman,”saidNancy.“Don’taskmewhyhe’sabletospeakEnglishsowell,orhowhemanagedtopasshimselfoffasanAmericansosuccessfully.ButI’llbethefollowedyouovertothiscountryfromFrance,Pierre—andforaverygoodreason!”

“For what reason?” Pierre shot a puzzled glance at the girl. “I do notunderstand,Nancy…”

“To stop you from becoming the Count d’Auvergne. Am I right—MonsieurVernet?”

The financier eyed her coldly. “Perhaps youwould care to explainwhyyoucallmebythatname,MissDrew?”

“Certainly! Why not? When I glanced through the opening pages ofProfessor Crawford’s report just now, I noticed that Yvette Duval’s firstmarriednamewasYvetteVernet.And I stronglysuspect thatyoubelong tothe same family as her first husband, whichmeans your real name is alsoprobablyVernet.N’est-cepas,monsieur?”

ThistimeitwasNancywhospokeinamockingtone.Shewastryingto

keep the conversation going, in the desperate hope that she or Pierre couldfindsomewaytoovertaketheircaptors.

The man who called himself Varney chuckled again. “You are evensmarterthanIthought,mydearMissDrew.WhichmakesitclearerthaneverthatImustgetridofyouboth!”

NodoubtPierrewouldhavebeenmoreconfusedthaneverbythislatestexchange of remarks, had he been listening. But his attention had justwandered. While Nancy and Varney were speaking, he noticed that bothcrookshadtheireyesfocusedonthegirldetective.Cautiously,hereachedoutandtookafirmgriponthedeskchair…andsuddenlyhurleditattheburlyfinancier!

The chair sentVarney toppling sideways against his apelike henchman!LouieBoushatoowentdown!

Before the crooks could recover, Pierre pounced on them, lashing outfuriouslywithhisfistsastheystruggledtotheirfeet!

Boushawasstillclutchingthedeadlycanister.Nancysent it flyingfromhishandwithaswiftkickinthewrist.

Justthen,footstepscamepoundingupthestairsandanothermanrushedintotheroom.Hewasdark-hairedandtough-looking.Nancy’sheartsankasshe recognizedhimasherswarthyshadow.Butamoment later,herdismaychanged to excited relief. He was helping Pierre fight Varney and LouieBousha!

Thereweretensemomentsasthestrugglesurgedbackandforthacrosstheroom.ThenNancysuddenly sawherchance.Grasping theoverturnedchairwhich Pierre had thrown, she gave it a hard shove. It slid across the floor,banging intoVarney’s left ankle.Startled, he lost hisbalance, and a secondlaterahardpunchbyPierreknockedhimsprawling!

The fight was soon over. Battered and subdued, with their hands tiedbehind them, the two crooks glared at the victors. Pierre, who was stillpantingfromhisexertionsbutalsogrinningintriumph,gaveNancyaquickhugandkiss.

“Forgive the liberty, ma cherie, but without your help, wemight neverhavewon!

Nancysmiledandsqueezedhishand,thenturnedtotheirswarthyally.“Ithinkwebothowethisgentlemanavoteofthanks,Pierre.HisnameisAndreFreneau. Ifyou’ll remember,wesawhimoutside the restauranton thatdayyouandImet inmyfather’soffice.Perhapsnowhe’ll tellushowhecameintothiscase.”

FreneauwasstartledtolearnthatNancyalreadyknewhisname.Hetookout his passport andofficial identification to show the twoAmericans. “Asyousee,MademoiselleDrew,IamaFrenchprivatedetective,”hesaid,thensmiledandbowedandheldouthishand.“ButmayIoffermycongratulations

toonewhoisobviouslyamuchbetterdetectivethanIameverlikelytobe!”BothNancyandPierreshookhishandwarmly.“MayIalsoapologizeforanytroubleImayhavecaused,”Freneauwent

on,“especiallyonthatnightinfrontofyourhouse,MademoiselleDrew.Yousee, I trailed your friend here, PierreMichaud, and also that fellowVernet,overtothiscountryfromFrance.IknewVernetwasascoundrel,sowhenitappeared that he and Pierre Michaud were working together, I wronglyconcludedthatallthreeofyouwereengagedinsomecriminalscheme.”

Pierre’s dark eyes kindled with interest on hearing Freneau mentionVernet-alias-Varney.“Whatcanyoutellusabouthim,monsieur?”heasked.

TheFrenchdetectivesmiledgrimly.“Ifeelquitesurethisshrewdyoungladyalreadyknowsthemostimportantfactabouthisidentity.AmIcorrect,MademoiselleDrew?”

Nancy smiledback, thenglancedat the scowling faceofVernet. “Sincehe’s tried so hard to keep Pierre from discovering his true birthright, I’malmostcertainhehimselfmustbetheformerclaimanttothetitle.”

Freneau smiled approvingly. “Correct, mademoiselle. He is EtienneVernet, and up until tonight, he has been able to call himself the Comted’Auvergne!”

Later,afterthetwocrookshadbeenturnedovertothestatepolice,Nancyand Pierre returned to the Thorpes’ house, with Andre Freneau as anadditionalguest.BessandGeorgewerealsoonhandtowitnesstheoutcomeofthecase.

Bythis time,NancyhadbeenabletoreadthroughProfessorCrawford’sreport.Sowhenthegroupclamoredtohearhersolutionto themystery,shewasabletofillinthepreviouslymissingdetails.

“Yourancestress,YvetteDuval,”NancytoldLisa,“wasoriginallymarriedto a French nobleman—Philippe Vernet, who held the title of Comted’Auvergne. Their son was that little boy shown on the miniature.Unfortunately,Francewasplunged into revolution just about that time, andtheroyalgovernmentwassohatedthatalmosteverymemberofthenobilitythatthemobcouldlayhandsonwasputtodeath.SoYvetteandherhusbandmadeplanstofleeacrosstheChanneltoEnglandtosavetheirlives.”

Yvette’s sister Charlotte, the teenage sleuth explained, had previouslymarriedanEnglishmanandwasalreadylivinginthatcountry.

“IknewfromCharlotte’sletter,”Nancywenton,“thatYvettehadhadtoleave some ‘precious treasure’ behind in France. Then when we found theminiature,Ibegantowonderifthatlittleboyonitmighthavebeenherlosttreasure.Afterall,whatcouldbemoreprecioustoanymotherthanherchild?And when we noticed the family resemblance between that little boy andPierre,thewholejigsawpuzzlebegantofittogether.”

“Butwait!”BessMarvinspokeupinapuzzledvoice.“Whyonearthdid

shehidethatbeautifulminiatureawayinashabbyoldgown?”Nancysmiled.“Becausethatshabbyoldgownwasthedisguiseshewore

duringherescapefromFrance.TheVernetsdidn’tdarerisktheirson’slife—therewastoomuchriskofbeingcaught.Sotheylefthimbehindinthecareof a kind-hearted village notary and his wife, named Michaud. Even thepossessionof suchavaluableobjectas thatminiaturemighthavegiven thecouple away as aristocrats. That’s why Yvette sewed it in the hem of hergown—to keep it from being discovered, and also, of course, so she couldhave that cherished picture of her little boy to remember him by until shecouldseehimagain.”

Nancy’sfacesaddenedasshedescribedthetragiceventsthatfollowed.“Before they could escape from France, Philippe was recognized as a

noblemanandcartedofftotheguillotineinParis.Yvette,however,managedtoavoidcapture,thankstoherdisguiseasapeasantgirl,andboardedashipatCalais that took her across the Channel. But as a result of her terrifyingordeal,shesufferedalossofmemoryandlandedinEnglandinastateoftotalamnesia.”

Luckily,Nancyadded,hersisterCharlotteidentifiedandtookcareoftheunhappyyoungwoman.EventuallyYvetteregainedmostofhermemoryandmarried Paul Duval, a banker of mixed Anglo-French parentage. But everafterward,shepreferrednevertothinkortalkabouttheterriblecircumstancesthathadcostherfirsthusbandhislife.

Lisaexclaimedsoftly,“Sothat’swhyherstorywasneverpasseddowninthefamily,fromgenerationtogeneration!”

Nancy nodded thoughtfully. “You’ll be interested to know, too, thataccording to Professor Crawford’s papers, PaulDuvalwas awidowerwithonesonwhenhemarriedYvette.

ItwasthatsonwhocarriedontheDuvalname.OnlydaughterswereborntoYvetteandPaulaftertheirmarriage,andIsuspecttheymayhavelearnedabout her escape from France during the Reign of Terror. But the detailsprobablysoongotblurredandwereforgotten.Iguessmostofusneverbothertoaskourparentsandgrandparentsmuchaboutthepastuntilit’stoolate.

“BecauseofthedisturbedconditionsinFranceduetotheRevolutionandtheNapoleonicwarsthatfollowed,Yvetteneverrecoveredherlostchild.TheMichauds,whohad long sincemoved from their nativevillage, brought upthelittleboyastheirownson.

“TheonlyotherrelicofthepastwastheportraitofYvette’sfirsthusband.Apparently her sisterCharlottewas somehow able to retrieve this from theComte’schateauandhaveitsmuggledtoEngland,soonafterYvette’sflightto freedom. Perhaps seeing it helped Yvette recover her memory,” Nancymused.

“Since nothing was known about their little son’s fate, a cousin of the

countclaimedhischateauandestateandbecameacceptedasthenewComted’Auvergne. Like other nobles who swore allegiance to the Revolutionarygovernment,hewasallowedtokeephistitle.

“By the time theRiverHeights artmuseum opened a century later, theDuval family did not even know whom the oil portrait of Philippe Vernetrepresented.Sotheydonatedittothemuseum.

“Isuppose thewholestorymightneverhavecometo light,”Nancytoldheraudience,“ifonedaythecuratorhadn’thadthepicture takendownandplacedinstorage.MissLouiseDuvalwassoannoyedthatshecalledinanartexperttoprovethepicturewasvaluable.Itwasthroughhimthatshelearnedthepaintingwasaportraitof theComted’Auvergne…whichinturnmadeherrealizeherfamilymightbedescendedfromFrenchnobility.

“MissDuval,”Nancywenton,“thenhiredProfessorCrawfordtotraceherfamily’s history and try to prove her exciting secret hunch. His summer’sresearchinEnglandandFranceuncovered thefact thatPierre’sGrandfatherMichaudwasadirectdescendentof thecountandcountess’s lost little son.Thismade him— and later Pierre—the true present-dayCount d’Auvergneand therefore the rightful inheritor of the Chateau d’Auvergne and all itssurroundingvastestate.

“Unfortunately, Etienne Vernet, like his forefathers, had grown used tobeingthecountandenjoyingthewealththatwentwiththecount’sestate.Hehadnointentionofgivingupthetitle.

“FromwhatMonsieurFreneautoldus,”saidNancy,“weknownowthatVernetdidawaywithaFrenchprivatedetectivewhomtheprofessorhadhiredtogatherevidenceinthecase.

“Undergrillingbythestatepolice,”Nancyadded,“VernetalsoadmittedthathehadflowntothiscountryandtriedtorundownMissDuvalwithacarinordertostopherfrompursuingherinvestigation.

“Hiseffort,infact,succeeded.LouiseDuvalsuccumbedtoaheartattack,andasaresult,ProfessorCrawfordsimplylefthisunfinishedreportlyinginhisdeskdrawer.

“At the time of the professor’s research, EtienneVernetwas twenty-sixyearsold.Fromthatpointon,hekeptcarefultabontheMichaudsinordertothwartanyfutureattempttheymightmaketoclaimthetitle.

“After reading a French newspaper interview with PierreMichaud, thefalse countwent into action. The interview told howPierrewas coming toAmericatodevelopandmarkethiscomputerdevice,andalsotofindoutwhyLouiseDuvalhadwrittenthemysteriouslettertohisgrandfatherthirtyyearsago.

“Vernet—whohadbeeneducatedintheUnitedStatesandspokeEnglishfluently— posed as ‘Mr. Varney’ in order to keep in touch with Pierre’sactivities, and also to obstruct and discredit him in anyway possible. This

included starting the fire in his workshop, planting the booby trap, andspreadingmaliciousliesabouthimwhileposingasaFrenchlawyer.

“Withthehelpofhisstooge,LouieBousha,Vernetalsotriedtostealtheoriginal count’s portrait from the museum and scare me off the case bychasingmeinaredcarandtamperingwithmypowersteering.”

“Youtoldusthatredcardidn’tseemtohaveanydriver,Nancy,”GeorgeFaynespokeup.“Howdidthebigcrookmanagethattrick?”

“Actuallyitwashishiredhand,LouieBousha,whowasatthewheel,”theyoungdetectivereplied,“andheworeablackhoodwhichmadehimalmostimpossibletoseeinthedarkness.”

“Yikes!”Georgeexclaimed.“Prettyneat!”“Itwas alsoBoushawhobroke intoyour attic,”Nancy toldLisa. “That

wasbecauseVarneyhadheardfromPierrethatyou’dinvitedmetocomeoverthenextday and searchyourgreat-aunt’s effects.Butwe spoiled their planwhenyouphonedandaskedmetocomeoverthatsamenight.”

“Whataluckybreak!”exclaimedLisa.“Otherwisetheymighthavefoundtheringandtheminiaturebeforewedid!”

NancytheninvitedtheFrenchdetective,AndreFreneau,totellhisstory.HerevealedthatitwashisfatherwhohadbeenhiredbyProfessorCrawfordto help investigate the background of theMichaud family and the rightfulownershipofthed’Auvergneestate,andwhohadlaterbeendoneawaywithbyEtienneVernet.

“Ialwayssuspectedmyfather’sdeathwasduetofoulplay,”Freneautoldhiscircleoflisteners.“WhenIlearnedthatPierreMichaudandVernetwerebothcoming to thiscountry, Iat first suspected theywereengaged insomenew criminal plot. Thanks to Mademoiselle Drew, however, I eventuallylearnedwhichonewastherealcriminal.”

Nancy added that followingVernet’s arrest, she had also found out thatduring his trip toAmerica thirty years ago, he had paid the then law clerkMaxwellFleenforinformationabouthisfirm’sclient,MissLouiseDuval.

ChubbyBessMarvinlookedshockedonhearingthis.“IfFleen’salawyernow,”shesaidindignantly,“shouldn’thebedisbarredfrompracticefordoingsuchathing?”

“That’s a matter I intend to take up with my father,” Nancy replieddiscreetly.

The evening ended on an especially happy note when Pierre MichaudproudlyannouncedthatLisaThorpehadacceptedhisproposalofmarriage.

When the applause and excitement had subsided enough for him to beheard,heturnedwithasomewhatuncertainsmiletoMr.Thorpeandadded,“Itrustherfatherwillnotobjecttoourengagement?”

“He’dbetternot!”Lisasaid,onlyhalfjokinglyandwithanewfirmnessinhervoice.

NortonThorpeclappedtheyoungFrenchmanontheshoulderand,withaheartysmile,shookhishand.“Mydearchap!HowcouldIpossiblyobjecttomydaughter becomingnot only the newCountess d’Auvergnebut also thewifeofanup-and-comingelectronicsgenius!”Lisa,hereyesmoistwithtearsof joy, not only because of her future marriage but also because of herrestoredrelationshipwithherfather,threwherarmsaroundNancyinawarmembraceexclaiming:“Oh,Nancy,noneof this couldeverhavehappened ifyouhadn’tworkedsohardtosolvethemystery.”

For a moment, the girl detective wondered how difficult her next casewouldbe.Shedidnotexpectananswersosoonwhenshefound“TheBrokenAnchor.”

“Howcanweeverthankyou?”Lisaasked.“You already have,” Nancy said, blinking her eyes. “That look of

happinessonyourfaceismygreatestreward.”