The Scarlet Slipper Mystery Page 3

  “It’s the big charity show to be given in the Civic Center,” Helene explained. “Nancy, would you mind getting in touch with Mrs. Parsons, the chairwoman, and telling her I will have to give up the coaching? I suggest that she get one of the other teachers in town to replace me.”

  Nancy knew Mrs. Parsons and said she would stop at her home on the way to the dancing school. At nine-thirty she rang the bell at the Parsons’ home.

  “Good morning, Nancy,” the woman said, and invited her caller in. After Nancy had relayed Helene’s message, Mrs. Parsons exclaimed, “Oh, dear, the whole show is falling apart! First I lose my solo dancer; now my coach is resigning!”

  “I’m sorry,” said Nancy sympathetically. “But surely one of the other teachers in town can help you out.”

  “Maybe. But you know how it is. Nobody wants to be second fiddle,” Mrs. Parsons said. “But that doesn’t bother me as much as losing my prize dancer. Nancy, she’s marvelous!”

  “Who is she?” Nancy asked.

  “Millie Koff. She and her father were staying at the Claymore Hotel. They didn’t expect to leave for some time. Then late last night they checked out with no explanation.”

  Mrs. Parsons paused a moment, then said, “Nancy, I’m going to tell you a little secret. I have an idea the Koffs may be in some kind of trouble. Millie once confided in me that she had come to this country from Centrovia and—”

  “Centrovia!” Nancy echoed, startled.

  CHAPTER IV

  A Vicious Caller

  “Oh, please tell me more about the Koffs!” Nancy begged Mrs. Parsons.

  “Well, I don’t know much, my dear,” she replied. “Mr. Koff is a writer—he’s a very eccentric, excitable person. He and his daughter Millie have been staying at the Claymore Hotel. She is a talented dancer, so we asked her to perform in the charity show. I believe she studied abroad.”

  A physical description of Mr. Koff fitted the man who had sat across the aisle from Nancy during the plane trip. She asked Mrs. Parsons if she might use her telephone, and when the woman nodded, Nancy called the Claymore Hotel.

  During other cases on which she had worked, Nancy had become acquainted with the manager. After identifying herself, she asked for the forwarding address of the Koffs.

  “I’m sorry, Nancy,” the manager replied, “but they did not leave one. Are they involved in some mystery?”

  “Possibly,” Nancy said. “If any word comes from them, will you please notify me?”

  The manager assured her that he would. When Nancy told Mrs. Parsons about the conversation, the woman shook her head in disappointment and said she would have to find a substitute for Millie.

  “How about your taking the part?” she asked.

  Nancy laughed. “You flatter me, Mrs. Parsons. I’d be glad to help you out with some of the dancing, but please don’t put me in as a soloist. I haven’t had much time for any ballet dancing in recent years.”

  “But you still dance exceedingly well,” said the chairwoman of the charity show. “And I’m sure you could learn the speaking part easily.”

  There was no talking Mrs. Parsons out of her idea. She was flustered and concerned. Not only had she lost Millie Koff as soloist but also Helene Fontaine as coach. The woman began pacing the floor.

  “All right, Mrs. Parsons,” Nancy said. “I’ll do the best I can for you. But if Millie Koff comes back, I’ll bow out.”

  From a desk Mrs. Parsons produced a script for the performance. Flipping over several pages, she came to the scene in which Millie Koff was to have appeared. She and Nancy sat down and went over the part together. When they had finished, Nancy admitted that there was not much to the role, and she could quickly learn the speaking part. She, herself, would have to develop the dance act.

  With a copy of the script and a record under her arm, Nancy hurried off, promising to report for rehearsal that afternoon. Already behind schedule, she found Ned Nickerson’s mother waiting for her outside the door of the Fontaines’ dancing school.

  Nancy walked up to her, smiling, and said, “Good morning, Mrs. Nickerson. I’m sorry I’m late.”

  Mrs. Nickerson looked very pretty, she thought, with her prematurely white wavy hair, her petite figure, and her stylishly tailored cotton dress.

  As Nancy unlocked the door, she said, “Mrs. Nickerson, the Fontaines want me to tell you how much they appreciate what you’re doing.”

  Mrs. Nickerson said she was glad to be included and hoped that something exciting would happen. She and Nancy spent an hour together, checking the schedule of classes and going through the registration cards to become acquainted with the pupils.

  When everything was ready, Nancy found that she would be free for half an hour before her first class. She decided to start work on the dance she would perform in the benefit show.

  Nancy found a leotard in her size and put it on in the dressing room. Then she walked into the large practice room, which had mirrors on three walls.

  “First I’ll listen to the record that Millie Koff was going to use,” Nancy decided. She placed the “Satiric Polka,” by Shostakovich, on the turntable and flicked on the switch.

  As the music filled the room, Nancy shut her eyes and let her feet and body move naturally to the distinctive rhythm.

  “Of course I haven’t the same ballet technique as Millie,” she thought, “but I’ll improvise to the music, combining ballet and rhythmic modern dancing. That should do the trick.”

  She played the record over several times until her choreography had formed a regular pattern. Realizing that her movements betrayed her love for mystery, Nancy suddenly found herself giggling. Her dance had become a graceful chase portraying the conflict between someone being pursued and the pursuer!

  “I’ll need a lot of practice,” Nancy said to herself, as she performed the final leap with an intricate turn.

  Nancy heard several pupils arriving for their class and hurried into the dressing room to change to street clothes. The substitute teacher arrived and everything went well.

  Nancy and Mrs. Nickerson had luncheon together; then Nancy borrowed the leotard again and left for the charity-show rehearsal at the Civic Center. She went at once to the auditorium, where several of the performers were on stage, talking to Mrs. Parsons.

  Among them was a man who now turned and came down the steps. As he hurried toward a side door, Nancy looked at him in amazement.

  He was the man who had stopped her on the country road!

  As quickly as she could, Nancy ran across the back of the auditorium and down the last aisle toward the exit he had taken. When she reached the corridor, he was not in sight.

  A porter mopping the floor told her that a man had left through a nearby door. She dashed outside and up an alley to the street. But by the time Nancy reached it, the man had disappeared.

  For several minutes she watched the passing cars, hoping that the man might have parked and would drive by. But her hopes were in vain and in disappointment she returned to the auditorium and donned the leotard.

  Mrs. Parsons introduced her to the other players and told them that Nancy would take the part Millie Koff had planned to play.

  “I think we’ll go over that first,” Mrs. Parsons said.

  She explained that Nancy had been given the part only that morning, but she was sure she would do well. Nancy hoped so, and was not displeased with her performance, although she realized it could be improved.

  When her part in the rehearsal was over, she walked up to Mrs. Parsons and asked about the man who had been in the auditorium a short time before.

  “I don’t know his name,” Mrs. Parsons replied. “He came in here to ask about Helene Fontaine.”

  Mrs. Parsons explained that he was very eager to find the young dancing-school teacher and wanted her address.

  “Of course I couldn’t give it to him,” said Mrs. Parsons. “He acted as if he did not believe me and went off in a huff.”

  Nancy asked some of the
performers who were standing around if they knew who he was, but no one did.

  “He must be a stranger in town,” Nancy decided, as she put her street clothes over her leotard and left the auditorium. “I wonder if he is really a friend of the Fontaines.”

  Nancy returned to the dancing school and learned from Mrs. Nickerson that everything had been going smoothly.

  “Nothing has happened in connection with the mystery,” she reported. “Nancy, I’m dreadfully sorry, but I’ll have to leave right away. I almost forgot an engagement I had made previously. It’s too late now to break it. Would you be able to take over for the rest of the afternoon?”

  “Oh, certainly,” said Nancy.

  “I’ll be in first thing tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Nickerson promised.

  Nancy thanked her and sat down at the receptionist’s desk. A few minutes after Mrs. Nickerson had gone, Bess arrived to teach a class of little girls.

  “Hello, Nancy,” she said. “Any news?”

  Nancy told her about the man at the auditorium. Bess shivered, and again warned Nancy to be careful.

  “Well, there’s one place I’m sure I’ll be safe,” said Nancy with a chuckle. “That’s right here in the dancing school. I’m going to stay the rest of the afternoon and evening.”

  Bess heaved a sigh. “You know, I’m scared silly to take this class. I’ve never taught dancing in my life.”

  Nancy tried to reassure her friend as Bess went into the dressing room. About twenty minutes later she peeked into the big room. The little ballerinas were paying strict attention. It was amusing to watch them try to imitate Bess.

  As Nancy returned to the desk, a woman hurried into the reception room. She was a coarse-looking person, wearing too much makeup and a strong, pungent perfume. She was dressed in a flowered red-and-green dress, and a red hat was perched on her disheveled reddish curls.

  “Where is Helene Fontaine?” the woman asked abruptly.

  “Miss Fontaine is not here right now,” Nancy replied.

  “I’m Mrs. Judson,” the woman said tartly. “Helene is a good friend of mine. I’ve heard she left town. The idea of her going without telling me! What’s her address?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t give it to you,” said Nancy.

  Mrs. Judson cried in a loud voice, “That’s ridiculous! Helene wouldn’t run off without telling somebody here at the school where she was going.” She stamped her foot angrily. “I demand to know where Helene and Henri Fontaine are!”

  “I cannot tell you, Mrs. Judson!” Nancy said firmly, her eyes flashing.

  The woman began a tirade, shouting that Nancy had no right to keep the information from her. Finally Nancy could take the abuse no longer. She rose from the desk and went around to escort Mrs. Judson outside.

  “There are children here,” she said, “and we can’t have a disturbance.”

  Mrs. Judson glowered as Nancy took her arm and led her out to the stairway. Suddenly Mrs. Judson shook herself free of Nancy’s grasp, turned halfway around, and jammed her elbow hard into the girl’s hip.

  Nancy lost her balance. She reached frantically for the banister, missed, and pitched headlong down the steps!

  CHAPTER V

  Clue of the Stamp

  THE stairway was steep. Waving her arms wildly in an attempt to save herself, Nancy fell all the way to the bottom. She lay there, stunned.

  Mrs. Judson rushed down the steps, stepped over Nancy, and hurried out the doorway!

  Shocked and angry, Nancy was sure that Mrs. Judson was no friend of the Fontaines. The girl stood up, but when she put her weight on her right ankle, she winced with pain and fell back on the step, her face pale.

  At this moment George Fayne burst through the door. Seeing Nancy, she cried anxiously, “Hypers! What happened to you?”

  “I’ll be all right,” Nancy said, “but follow the woman who just went out the door. I must know who she is and where she lives!”

  George waited for no further explanation. Hurrying to the sidewalk, she spotted the suspect running up the block.

  Meanwhile, Nancy hopped up the stairway on her left foot, clutching the banister rail with both hands. As she reached the reception room, Bess, just dismissing a class, saw her.

  “Nancy, you’re hurt!” she cried.

  After the children had left, Nancy told her what had happened. Bess was furious.

  “That awful person!” she exclaimed. “Nancy, you’re hurt more than you admit. Come into the dressing room and let me look at your ankle.”

  She took off Nancy’s shoe, put cold compresses on the swollen ankle, then bound it. By the time George returned, the pain had eased.

  Nancy turned and asked, “Any luck?”

  “Yes and no,” George replied. “I followed the woman to the post office. She went to the General Delivery window and asked for mail for Judson.”

  George said that the clerk had handed Mrs. Judson a letter that had seemed to disturb her greatly.

  “She got red in the face and I thought she was going to cry. She stuffed the letter and part of the envelope into her handbag,” the girl went on. “But the other piece of the envelope with the stamp on it fell to the floor and I picked it up as she left.”

  “Good!” said Nancy.

  “But my luck ended there.” George sighed.

  “Nancy, you’re hurt!” Bess exclaimed.

  “Mrs. Judson rushed outside and got into a taxi. I couldn’t find another one, so I had no way of following her. And I didn’t even get the license number of the cab.”

  Nancy examined the thin piece of envelope George had saved. The letter had been post-marked in Paris, France, and sent by airmail. The notation Par Avion had been written by hand.

  George suggested that she drive Nancy home and then return to help Bess. “I’ll take over the reception desk,” she promised her friend. “You don’t need a ballet dancer there!”

  On the way home, the girls stopped at Dr. Milton’s office. He said that Nancy had suffered only a mild strain. He strapped the ankle and assured her that if she stayed off it as much as possible, it should be good as new in a day or two.

  When Nancy reached home, Hannah Gruen was distraught. “That dancing school isn’t worth it!” she declared loudly.

  At that, Henri and Helene rushed down the stairs. When they heard what had happened, Helene said, “Nancy, I had no idea that you would get into trouble. We cannot permit it to continue. Our enemies are more dangerous than I thought.”

  Nancy had grown very fond of the dancing couple. Besides, she was determined not to give up so easily. Smiling, she insisted that her accident was of little consequence.

  Before the Fontaines had a chance to comment further, Nancy asked them if they knew Mrs. Judson or had ever heard of her. They said no. Thinking the woman might be using an assumed name, Nancy described her carefully. The dancers said they knew no such person.

  Nancy showed the couple the piece of envelope with the French stamp and asked if the Fontaines recognized the handwriting. They did not.

  As Nancy ran her fingernail over the strange stamp, something on the envelope caught her eye. “Hannah,” she said to the housekeeper, “will you please steam the stamp off this envelope for me?”

  The housekeeper went to the kitchen and returned quickly. Wide-eyed she exclaimed, “It beats me how Nancy figures things out!”

  “I had a clue,” Nancy admitted. “I noticed a dot of ink extending beyond the edge of the stamp.”

  “Well, it was a good idea,” said Hannah. “There was a number under the stamp.”

  “What is it?” the three asked eagerly.

  Dramatically, Hannah read, “10561-B-24!”

  It was the same number that Nancy had found inside the bisque figurine!

  Astonished, Nancy told them about the statuette and the impostor who had sold it to the local jeweler. “Does the number mean anything to either of you?” she asked Henri and Helene.

  They shook their heads. “Could it
be some sort of a code?” Henri asked.

  “Perhaps,” Nancy admitted. “And it may be in French. Let’s see if we can figure it out. Have you ever tried solving a cryptogram?”

  “A few times,” Helene answered.

  “Good. Now, if Hannah will bring us a pad of paper and some pencils, we’ll all work on it. I’ll work in English and you two can experiment in French.”

  They tried simple substitutions, using the series of numbers for letters of the alphabet, but nothing came of this. Next they tried transposition, numbering the alphabet with z for 1 and a for 26.

  “I believe we’ve been following the wrong trail,” Nancy said finally, after several leads had failed to produce a message. “This may even be a serial number of some sort.”

  Hannah Gruen, who had been listening, declared she thought enough decoding had been done that day. “Nancy, I suggest that you go to bed and let me serve supper to you in your room.”

  Helene and Henri backed Hannah up, urging Nancy to rest her ankle. She finally consented.

  The young detective went to sleep early that night. She woke the next morning eager to continue work.

  When she hopped down to breakfast, being careful to put no pressure on her swollen ankle, Nancy found Helene and Henri looking very serious.

  Helene confessed that they were embarrassed about staying at the Drew home without being permitted to reimburse the lawyer.

  “Oh, please stop thinking of that,” said Nancy. “We just love having you here, and you can help me on the case as no one else could.”

  Henri brightened a little. “Nancy, I could do one thing that might help repay your kindness, but I’ll need your cooperation.”

  He explained that he was a portrait painter as well as a dancer. His art was not well known, but he had done some acceptable work. He offered to paint Nancy’s portrait as a reward for her help.

  “Why, that would be wonderful!” said Nancy. “Dad has been trying for a long time to get me to have my portrait painted. He’ll be thrilled.”