(#28) The Clue of the Black Keys (9 page)

“I listened, the way you suggested. Mr. and Mrs. Wangell talked a lot about Miami and a couple down there named Will and Irene. I deduced that Will was short for Wilfred Porterly.”

“And his wife?”

“That was easy. Once when the Wangells were arguing, I heard her say, ‘You should have listened to Irene and me. We Webster girls at least have common sense.’ ”

Terry said he had remembered Mrs. Prescott saying that Mrs. Wangell was Lillian Webster.

“Oh, Terry, this is wonderful!” Nancy exclaimed.

“Glad you think so,” he replied, grinning.

“I wonder if the Wangells are on their way now to join the Porterlys in Miami,” Nancy mused.

She told Terry about the Wangells’ treatment of the taxi driver, and also that the police had searched the house but had failed to turn up the diary or any other clues.

Suddenly Terry remembered Nancy’s trip to Baltimore. He asked what she had learned there.

“That was just a trick to get us out of town,” Nancy answered. “I came back a little too soon for the Wangells. Or did I?” She smiled ruefully. “They got away.”

“But you saved me,” Terry whispered. His voice was giving out again. “You saw my handker—” The rest was lost.

Nancy insisted he rest again, promising a big surprise at dinnertime that evening. Terry Scott slept for three hours, awakening just as Mr. Drew walked in. The lawyer was deeply concerned when he learned what had happened.

“I had no idea your enemies would go to such lengths,” he said to Terry. “It’s amazing what evil men will resort to in trying to acquire a treasure.”

This reminded Nancy of her promise to Terry. She brought out the photographs of the diary pages and the tracings she had made from them. Terry was intrigued by the footprints leading to the traveler’s palm; the symbols of the frog, the prostrate man, and the sun; and the three black keys.

“Amazing!” he murmured.

After studying the complete drawing which Nancy had made, Terry shook his head. “I’ve never seen a spot that looks like this one,” he said. “Too bad it has no directions or points of the compass on it. If I could only locate the cipher stone—”

Nancy brought out her copy of the slip of paper she had found in the shrubbery with its mysterious notation “5 x 7 and one.” Terry could make no more out of it than he had the first time.

Mrs. Gruen announced dinner and they all went to the table. As soon as the meal was over, Mr. Drew drove Terry to his hotel. He promised to retire at once.

At eight o’clock the next morning Terry called Nancy on the telephone. For a moment she feared something had gone wrong, but he soon reassured her.

“I did a lot of thinking last night,” he said. “I feel I should return to Mexico. The Mexican police haven’t sent me any report. Maybe they have given up the search for Dr. Pitt. I must find out.”

Terry said he had a nine-o’clock plane reservation, and was leaving for the airport at once.

“I hate to say good-by this way,” he added. “You’ve been such a good sport, Nancy. But I hope next time I see you, I’ll have good news.”

Terry said that if she did not hear from him soon, she would know that he was deep in a Mexican jungle looking for his scientist friend.

“Don’t you want to take the half-key with you?” Nancy asked.

“No. I might lose it. If I need the key, I’ll send for it. Anyway, I feel that I’m not going to solve this whole mystery in Mexico. There will be many things you’ll have to clear up if you will. I’m depending on you.”

“Terry, are you sure you’ll be safe?”

“Now don’t worry,” he said, laughing. “Well, I must say good-by now.”

After she had put down the telephone, Nancy sat lost in thought. No matter how she looked at it, she had a strong hunch Terry’s sudden decision to start for the jungle was unwise. What could he do alone against ruthless enemies?

CHAPTER XII

A Hard Decision

AFTER Mr. Drew had been told of Terry’s decision, and had left for his office, Nancy reviewed in her mind the swift-moving events of the past twenty-four hours. What was there she could do to help solve the mystery, now that Terry was returning to his explorations in Mexico?

“I can still try to find out where the Wangells went,” she decided. “That may lead to the Porterlys and then to Juarez Tino, and—”

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Sergeant Malloy reported failure in locating the Wangells.

“The Kirkland police thoroughly searched the town. No clues to where those folks went. You got anything else to suggest?”

“Florida.”

“What?”

“My guess is,” Nancy replied, “that the Wangells will join the Porterlys in Florida.”

Malloy seemed to be intrigued with the idea that the two wives might be sisters. He said the police would communicate with Florida authorities to try to find the couples.

“We have a report on Wilfred Porterly,” the officer went on. “His driver’s license is okay. But according to the records, he hasn’t owned a car for years, so the car registration was forged and the license plates stolen.”

“Did the Miami police find him at his home?” Nancy asked.

“No, but they’ll keep an eye out for him. Remember that Tropical Sun Fruit Company that Porterly talked about? There’s no such business in Florida.”

“What is his business?”

“A lot of pretty fancy rackets. At one time, for instance, he was connected with some art dealers.”

“The Wangells,” thought Nancy. After she had thanked the officer for calling and hung up, she said to herself, “And now the ‘fancy racket’ is cashing in on an old treasure.”

When Bess and George dropped in a few minutes later, Nancy was improvising idly on the piano in the living room.

“George told me all about yesterday,” Bess said excitedly. “She says Terry left town. Oh dear, I wish I’d been home for the excitement, but I suppose I’d have been scared green.”

Nancy smiled, but made no comment.

“You wouldn’t be feeling lonesome for Terry, would you?” George asked slyly. “Or is it the plainclothesmen you miss? I notice they’ve left.”

“They’re on duty only at night now,” Nancy answered “But I’m not lonesome. I’m trying to puzzle something out. Bess, do you know what five times seven and one are?”

“Why, thirty-six.”

“Yes. And I’ve just been counting, Bess. There are exactly thirty-six black keys on the piano.”

She told the girls about Mr. Wangell’s method of frightening his wife. “Like this.” Nancy illustrated by running her knuckles over the black keys as Terry had done the day before.

“Nancy, are you trying to say there’s some connection between that slip of paper you found in the shrubbery and Wangell’s trick of scaring his wife?” George asked.

“I don’t know. But that stunt at the piano must have reminded Mrs. Wangell of something very unpleasant. Maybe some sort of a threat.”

“Nancy, you make me positively shudder!” Bess declared.

“How would you two like to take a trip to Florida?” Nancy asked her friends suddenly.

“Love to,” George declared. “But my bank account would never stand the strain.”

“Neither would mine after that trip to New York.” Bess sighed.

George changed the subject. “How about a little tennis to take your mind off the mystery?”

“Not now,” Nancy replied. “I have some heavy scheming to do!”

“Well, we’re off to the courts,” Bess said.

“Don’t think too hard!” George teased as the girls waved good-by.

But Nancy was soon deep in thought about the mystery. She was more eager than ever to carry on a search in Florida. After lunch she broached the subject to her father.

“Dad, do you suppose you could manage a Florida vacation next week?”

“I’m afraid not,” he replied. “I must be in court Wednesday.”

“Then how about my taking that field trip with Dr. Anderson? It sounds interesting. If he lets me join his students, will you give me money for the trip?”

The lawyer’s eyes twinkled. “If I furnish the capital, seems to me I deserve a statement of some kind. Are you really so fascinated by Indian culture—or do you want to keep your eye on Dr. Anderson?” he teased.

“All right, Dad. I’ll own up. You’d never let me go to Florida alone.”

“And?”

“You see, it’s not just Dr. Anderson who is heading for Florida. My guess is that Wilfred Porterly is there this minute. And the Wangells are on their way.”

“I see,” Mr. Drew said. “But what made you think of getting to Florida by trying to join Dr. Anderson’s group?”

Nancy said there were several reasons. She believed it was not just his duties as a teacher that were taking Dr. Anderson to Florida. It might well have to do with the mystery of the black keys and the Frog Treasure.

“Maybe we can work together,” she said. “Anyway, if I locate the Wangells, I may need a man’s help.”

“Right you are,” the lawyer agreed. “Well, if you go with the class, I’ll give you the money. But I’m wondering if Dr. Anderson will permit it. You’re not a student of his, my dear.”

Nancy smiled confidently. “No. But several who are going on the trip are specials. They come from various places.” She gave her father a hug. “Thanks a million,” she said. “I’ll phone for an appointment to talk it over.”

When Nancy faced the professor in his office the following Monday morning, she did not feel so confident, however. Dr. Anderson was not very cordial.

“I suppose you know, Miss Drew, that you are a bit late. The students who have registered for the trip have already completed their preparatory work.”

“I know it’s highly irregular, Dr. Anderson. But I’ve done some reading about American Indians, ancient and modem. And I was hoping you’d accept me as a sort of special student.”

The professor narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t your interest in this field trip a bit sudden?”

Nancy could not help smiling. “I’ll be honest with you, Dr. Anderson. It’s not only interest in your subject that prompted my visit. I want to do some research of my own in Florida. And I need you as a sort of—bodyguard.”

Perhaps it was Nancy’s smile—or her show of honesty—that brought about a change in the professor’s manner. He softened. There was a suggestion of compromise in his voice when he spoke again.

“As you say, it is highly irregular. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do.”

“Yes?” Nancy asked hopefully.

“I’m giving my students here a quiz on the work we’ve covered so far. If you can pass that quiz, you may accompany us to Florida.”

Nancy’s pulse quickened. “I’ll try it,” she said. “Thank you.”

CHAPTER XIII

Smoke Screen

“WHEN is the quiz?” Nancy asked Dr. Anderson.

“This afternoon at three,” the professor replied.

Nancy looked at her watch. It was ten-thirty. She had a few hours to study!

Eager to use her time to advantage, Nancy hurried to the college library. There the librarian pointed out the books used for Dr. Anderson’s course in American Indian Culture.

“And this should help you,” the woman said, giving Nancy a typewritten sheet. “It’s an outline of the work covered each month.”

The syllabus stated that the subjects assigned for the past month were
The Aztecs of Mexico
and
Early Indian
Tribes
in Florida.

Fortunately, Nancy had brought a notebook and her fountain pen. She read all the chapters on Florida Indians, and made notes on the facts which seemed most important about the ancient Aztecs.

She hardly took time for lunch, studying her notes while she ate a sandwich in the cafeteria. After lunch she returned to the library and did more reading until it was time to go to class.

As the students flocked in to take their seats, Dr. Anderson arose from behind his desk.

“Please remember that none of you will be given special consideration,” he said, looking straight at Nancy. “If you know the subject, you will pass. If you do not know the answers, you will fail.”

He gave out the quiz sheets and the blue notebooks in which the students were to write their answers. Nancy’s hours in the library, she discovered, had been well spent. She was able to answer all the questions except the last:
Who were the Zapotecs? Where and when did they live?

She did not remember having read anything about the Zapotecs. Terry Scott had never mentioned them.

She had to leave the question blank!

At the end of the period, Professor Anderson asked the students to put their quiz books on his desk. When Nancy left hers, she hoped he would speak to her. But his only response to her smile was a stern nod.

“He’ll be a hard marker,” Nancy thought woefully.

“How did you make out?” a friendly girl asked.

Nancy sighed. “I couldn’t answer the question about the Zapotecs.”

“Anderson’s a mean old crow for asking that one. It wasn’t in the lectures—he just said we could look it up.”

“Pretty shrewd,” Nancy commented, then introduced herself.

The girl said that she was Frances Oakes, and she introduced her two friends as Marilyn Maury and Grace James.

“Are you coming to Florida with us?” Grace asked hopefully.

Nancy said that she planned to go if she passed the test.

“That’s the big ‘if’ for all of us,” Marilyn said with a sigh.

“I’ll never stand the strain of waiting until tomorrow!” Fran groaned. “That’s when the quiz grades will be posted.”

“What time?” Nancy asked.

“Dr. Anderson said they’d be posted by five o’clock,” Fran answered. “I’ll call you as soon as I know them myself.”

That night was a restless one for Nancy. Next morning, she decided to look up the answer to the question she had missed. From the encyclopedia she learned that the Zapotecs were an important tribe of Mexican Indians. They had resisted invasions by the Aztecs and their culture had been one of the highest in that country.

After reading the article, Nancy’s hopes sank. “That does it,” she thought. Her ignorance would seem inexcusable to Dr. Anderson. She would flunk the quiz.

“And Dad will never let me go to Florida alone.” She sighed.