The Eskimo's Secret Page 4

  “You see what you’ve done,” Mr. Steele growled the moment Nancy stepped into the library.

  “I’ve done? she gasped. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “You let him in, didn’t you? You called that Tod Harper and let him in so he could search

  for whatever he wanted.”

  “But I didn’t,” Nancy said. “I told you I made an appointment to meet him near the Empress Hotel. He didn’t come, but I’m not at all sure he’s the one who—”

  “He did it all right. He’s behind all this. If Alana’s in trouble, it’s his fault. I never trusted him.”

  The ringing of the telephone stopped him from saying more. The officer took the call. He spoke softly, then listened, his face grave. When he hung up the receiver, he turned to Nancy. “When did you talk to Tod Harper?” he asked. Nancy answered easily, for she’d checked her

  watch right after promising to meet him. “Why?” she asked.

  “Tod Harper is not responsible for what hap-pened here,” the officer said quietly. “He didn’t keep his appointment with Miss Drew because he was on his way to the hospital.”

  “What?” Nancy gasped. “Is he all right?” “He has a concussion and a lot of minor injuries. He was struck by a hit-and-run driver shortly after he left his apartment.”

  7. The Elusive Detective

  “A hit-and-run driver?” Nancy exclaimed. “But. . .”

  “Harper was in an accident?” Mr. Steel didn’t sound quite convinced.

  “He was struck down,” the officer said. “But it certainly doesn’t sound like it was an accident.”

  “You mean he was injured on purpose?” Nancy was sickened at the thought, but not surprised.

  “There were two witnesses and both of them stated that the car had been parked at the curb with the motor running for some time. When Harper came out of his apartment building, the car pulled out and headed directly for him. According to both witnesses, Harper saw the car and tried to avoid it. The car pursued him, finally striking him just before he reached the far curb.”

  Nancy shuddered. “How awful.”

  “He was very lucky to get away with just a concussion and the other cuts and bruises,” the officer agreed. Then he turned his attention to Mr. Steele. “Now, sir, I’d like you to explain to me why you were so sure that Tod Harper was the person who ransacked your niece’s room.”

  Nancy started to speak up, but the officer turned to her. “If you’ll excuse us, Miss Drew,” he said.

  Nancy hesitated for a moment, then said, “If you don’t mind, Mr. Steele, I’d like to try to reach my father.

  “By all means, my dear,” he said. “We can talk in the other room. This must have been a terrible shock to you. When I invited you to stay here, I certainly had no idea you would be subjected to something like this.”

  The men left Nancy alone in the library, closing the door behind them, but she didn’t place her call immediately. She needed time to think. Everything had happened so quickly she’d just been reacting. And she needed her father’s advice.

  She started to pick up the telephone, then felt a twinge of doubt. If the car had been waiting for Tod, that meant the driver had to know he was going out. And whoever had searched the mansion would have to know that she would be gone, too. She suddenly understood why Tod had been so reluctant to discuss anything on the telephone. He must know or suspect that either his phone or this one must be tapped.

  Nancy checked the instrument quickly and could find nothing, so she dialed the Seattle hotel again. She would be careful what she said, she decided. All she really needed was to make arrangements to call her father back from a public telephone.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Drew,” the desk clerk said. “Mr. Drew still hasn’t picked up his messages. Do you want me to check yours?”

  “Please,” Nancy said, feeling frustrated and wondering if she should try to reach her father at the Haggler estate.

  “Oh, he did call in for you,” the clerk responded cheerfully. “There’s a Victoria number for you to call. Do you have a pencil?” Nancy took down the number and thanked the clerk, then dialed it.

  “Creighton Hotel,’’ a friendly voice said.

  “Ah . . . Do you have a Carson Drew registered there?” Nancy asked, too surprised to think clearly for a moment.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the voice answered after a long pause. “We have a Carson Drew and a Nancy Drew.” There was another brief pause, then the voice continued. “We have reservations in those names,” he corrected himself. “Neither one has checked in so far. Did you wish to leave a message?”

  “This is Nancy Drew,” Nancy said. “When were those reservations made?”

  “This afternoon. Will you be checking in soon, Miss Drew?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll be there in about an hour. If my father arrives before I do, would you please tell him to expect me?” Her confusion gave way to relief at the idea of sitting down with her father and telling him everything that had happened.

  Still, after she’d replaced the receiver, she stayed where she was, frowning. Why should her father have come to Victoria? Was it in connection with the Haggler case? And, perhaps more curious, why hadn’t he called her to tell her he’d booked rooms? Why leave a message at the hotel in Seattle?

  A knock on the door pulled her attention back to her present situation. She got to her feet as Mr. Steele entered. “Did you reach your father, Nancy?” he asked.

  “No,” Nancy replied. “It seems he’s on his way to Victoria. He’s booked rooms for us at the Creighton Hotel.”

  “Then you won’t be staying here?” Mr. Steele didn’t look too disturbed.

  “You’ve been very kind, but no. Are the officers still here? I should tell them where I can be reached.”

  “They just left, but I’ll give them the message if they check back tonight.”

  Nancy thought of the notebook in her purse and felt a twinge of relief. She certainly didn’t want to turn it over to Mr. Steele, since she still felt he was hiding something.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go up and pack my things,” she said.

  “Would you and your father be my guests for dinner this evening?” Mr. Steele asked, surprising her once again. “It would be a professional consultation, if your father would consider representing me at this time.”

  “I’m sorry,” Nancy said, “ but I can’t speak for him, Mr. Steele. I’m not even sure when he will be arriving in Victoria. He hadn’t reached the hotel yet when I called.

  Mr. Steele nodded. “Well, please ask him to call me when you do see him.”

  “Of course.” Nancy started toward the door, suddenly anxious to leave the house.

  “It’s for Alana’s protection,” Mr. Steele said, stopping her. “The longer she’s missing, the more trouble she’s going to face when she returns. The gallery has its lawyers, but I’d like someone special to represent her.”

  “I’m sure my father would be glad to help her,” Nancy said. “The important thing is for us to find her.” She hesitated a moment, then told Mr. Steele about the phone call she’d received saying only that Alana had warned her to leave Victoria.

  Mr. Steele shook his head. “Perhaps she’s right, Nancy,” he said. “I have no right to ask you to stay here and put yourself in danger. Until I heard what happened to Harper, I honestly didn’t think there was any danger. I’ll understand if your father insists on your returning to Seattle tomorrow.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Nancy stated, making up her mind. “Alana called here for me because she needs my help, no matter what she said.”

  “She didn’t say where she is?”

  Nancy shook her head. “And I don’t think she’s the one who placed the call,” she observed, thinking out loud.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The maid said a gentleman was calling, but when I answered, it was Alana.”

  “But who would be with her?” Mr. Steele murmured.

>   “I was planning to ask Tod if he had any ideas,” Nancy admitted. “You don’t know who it could be, do you?”

  Mr. Steele shook his head, but his eyes skittered away from hers guiltily. Finally, she sighed and started for the door again. He said nothing to stop her.

  It took little time to pack her few belongings, though she had to check the room carefully since everything had been torn apart by whoever was looking for the notebook. She would be glad to leave, yet she felt she was deserting Alana, since her friend would have no idea where to reach her now.

  After leaving the Creighton Hotel number with Mr. Steele and the servants, she set off alone. As she drove across town to the hotel, Nancy realized how famished she was, after her whirlwind day. She hurried into the respectable old hotel, eager to see her father, to sit down to dinner with him and discuss both the Haggler case and Alana’s mysterious disappearance.

  The desk clerk greeted her with sobering news. “Your father hasn’t checked in yet, Miss Drew,” he informed her.

  “Have there been any calls or messages?” Nancy asked.

  The man checked, then shook his head.

  Unhappy, Nancy accepted her key and went up to her attractive room. After about five minutes, she consulted the room service menu and ordered dinner. Waiting for her food only increased her unease and her feeling that something was wrong. Finally, she opened her address book and placed a call to Helen Haggler.

  “Ah, Nancy, how are you?” Miss Haggler asked.

  “A little anxious, Miss Haggler,” Nancy admitted. “I’ve been missing connections with my father all day and I was wondering if you could tell me what time he left your home today.”

  “What time he what?” Miss Haggler sounded surprised. “I thought you were calling to set up another appointment.”

  “Another appointment?”

  “Why, yes, I’ve been trying to reach him most of the day, myself.” Miss Haggler sounded upset. “It’s not like your father not to call, you know.”

  “But he was on his way to see you.” Nancy said. “He left the hotel early this morning.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. He wanted to talk to you about your change of mind. Are you saying he never reached your estate?” Nancy felt a cold stab of fear.

  “I’ve been here all day,” Helen Haggler replied. “He’s neither arrived nor called. Haven’t you heard from him?”

  “No . . . well, sort of,” Nancy amended. “I’m in Victoria.” She explained how she’d come to be staying at the Creighton Hotel.

  “Well, when you do see him, ask him to call, will you?” Miss Haggler said. “No matter how late it is.”

  “I’ll do that,” Nancy promised, but even as she spoke the words, she was afraid her father’s disappearance was more than just a case of missed connections and changed plans.

  8. A Cruel Bargain

  When her food arrived, Nancy had little appetite for it, but she ate, hoping the meal would distract her from the fear inside her. She was just finishing her dessert when the telephone rang, so startlingly that she dropped her fork.

  “Miss Nancy Drew?” The voice was male and unfamiliar.

  “This is she,” Nancy replied.

  “I'm calling about your father,” the voice informed her.

  “Where is he? Who is this? What’s going on?” The questions boiled out of her.

  “Your father is with me,” the voice answered coldly.

  “What do you mean he’s with you?”

  “All you need to know is that your father is with me, and if you want to see him again, you’re going to have to find Alana Steele for us.” “But I don’t know where Alana is,” Nancy protested. “I’ve been trying to find her.”

  “If you want your father back, don’t make ex-cuses.” The voice was hard and ugly.

  “How do I know you have my father?” Nancy asked, getting her fears under control with a stern effort of will.

  “Listen to this,” the voice ordered.

  Nancy started to object, but there was a click and in a moment she heard her father’s voice.

  “Nancy, I’m all right. I’m being held . . . at a place and I’ll be taken care of as long as you don’t try to contact the authorities or anyone else. Don’t try to find me. Just do as they tell you.”

  The tape clicked. “Dad!” Nancy moaned, aching to talk to him, to really hear his voice.

  “If you want to talk to your father again, you’d better find Alana Steele,” the voice told her unemotionally.’

  “But I don’t know where she is,” Nancy wailed, desperation bringing tears to her eyes.

  “You’re a detective. You find her.” There was a short bark of cruel laughter. “And remember what your father told you about contacting the authorities. If you do, you’ll never see him again.” The receiver clicked and the line went dead.

  For a moment she sat still, tears flooding down her cheeks, her heart pounding with panic and fear. Then she remembered the sound of her father’s voice, calm and strong, unafraid. She closed her eyes and tried to draw strength from his courage, his faith in her.

  Alana was the key, she realized. But how? Who wanted to find Alana badly enough to actually kidnap Carson Drew? And why? There was only one reason that came to her mind—the missing sculpture, the Tundra.

  Her mind once more working logically, Nancy picked up her purse and took out the notebook she’d found in Alana’s room. It was now much easier for her to believe that someone had tried to harm Tod Harper, then gone to the mansion and slipped inside to search it.

  “What could Alana know that makes her so important?” she asked herself, opening the notebook.

  The first part of the notebook was simply a detailed cataloging of the individual carvings of the Tundra. Pages and pages listing caribou in various poses, the wolves, the bears, the tiny humans that populated the man-created tundra. Nancy skimmed through them, then noticed that several were starred.

  “What’s going on here?” she murmured, then she found the note at the end of the list.

  “I’ve marked several carvings that seem very familiar to me,” it read in Alana’s handwriting. “If only I could remember where I’ve seen the ones like them.”

  The next section was devoted to research on the entire sculpture. There were notes about the owner, Franklin Cole, and his collection of Eskimo art, which included more than just the one piece. Only after she’d finished that did she find the more interesting part of the research that Alana had done and written down:

  The Tundra has been a part of legend for quite some time. It is reputed to be the key to the mysterious disappearance of the ivory treasures of Seal Bay, a small Eskimo com-munity once said to be the home of the most talented Eskimo carvers in the world.

  These artists refused to sell any of their works, claiming they were a treasured part of their worship. The village fell on hard times, yet they still refused to sell and gradually all the collectors gave up—all but one. Franklin Cole continued to pressure the starving people.

  At this time, according to legend, Qing- goq, the most talented artist of the village, gathered all their works and took them into the wilderness to hide them. The only piece left was his own masterpiece, the Tundra. This he refused to sell.

  The hard times continued, mostly due to manipulations and tricks by Cole, and in the end the villagers decided to sell the Tundra to Cole in return for his promise never to enter Seal Bay again.

  The legend ends with the story that the artist was enraged by the sale of his masterpiece to the man he considered the enemy of the village. He cursed the village and refused to return the treasures he’d hidden.

  The story ended there and Nancy shook her head. It was fascinating, but she could see no relationship between an ancient legend and what was happening now. She flipped forward through the notebook, seeking more notes, something that would make this notebook valuable enough to risk capture by whoever had sought it at the Steele mansion.

 
There was nothing. The rest of the pages were blank.

  “What did they want?” she asked herself, looking around the anonymous hotel room in frustration. “What does this notebook have to do with the theft of the Tundra and how is Alana involved?”

  The price of Carson Drew’s freedom was finding Alana, and Nancy obviously wasn’t going to be able to do it here. But where could she begin?

  “Tod!” Nancy realized. She looked at her watch, feeling it must be nearly midnight, but it was just after seven P.M. TWO quick phone calls located him at the nearby hospital. Not giving herself time to think ahead, Nancy hid the notebook in her suitcase, then picked up her purse and keys and hurried out of the hotel.

  The hospital was fairly busy as visiting hours were ending, but Nancy had no trouble finding Tod’s room. The door stood open, but she knocked anyway. His face was a mass of scrapes and bruises, but his grin seemed real enough.

  “Nancy Drew, what are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Well, since you missed our meeting this afternoon, I thought I’d come here and talk to you,” Nancy began, feeling suddenly out of place and uncomfortable.

  “You might be better off staying away from me,” Tod said, his grin fading. “Either that or stay off the streets. Don’t you know what happened to me?”

  “Who did this to you?” Nancy asked. And why, Tod?”

  Tod began shifting in the bed, his eyes evading hers. “How would I know? It was an accident. Someone wasn’t watching where he was going and I was cutting across the middle of the block. Just an accident.”

  “That’s not what the officer told us,” Nancy said.

  “What officer? When?” Tod stopped his squirming. “What are you talking about?” “There was a . . . someone got into the Steele mansion while I was downtown waiting for you. They searched Alana’s room and mine. Do you have any idea what they were looking for?” Their eyes locked for a moment and Nancy had the strong feeling Tod was trying to decide something.