Mystery of the Ivory Charm

by Carolyn Keene

  Ned’s fraternity brothers had not forgotten her, and that evening at the formal party held in the chapter house they annoyed Ned by constantly cutting in on his dances.

  “I think you’ve danced with everyone here except Anil,” Ned complained good-naturedly to Nancy. “That’s the punishment a fellow gets for bringing a popular girl.”

  “Who is Anil?” Nancy inquired.

  With a nod of his head, Ned indicated a handsome youth in evening dress who was standing at the opposite side of the room.

  “He’s the one I want you to meet. I’ll bring him over.”

  Ned soon regretted that he had ever made such a suggestion. After Anil had been introduced he proceeded to monopolize Nancy’s attention. He captured her interest by immediately mentioning the ivory charm she wore.

  “It is a remarkable keepsake,” he declared. “I have seen none to compare with it—even in the collections of the old maharajas of my country.”

  As the conversation continued, Ned tried in vain to divert Nancy’s attention to himself. She listened with absorbed interest as Anil told her about Indian customs that were so different from those in the United States. The attractive student in turn gazed at Nancy as if he thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. It became increasingly clear to Ned that Anil was suffering from a severe attack of love at first sight.

  At length Ned could endure it no longer. “Nancy and I have this dance,” he told the young man.

  “Very sorry,” Anil apologized, smiling. He bowed to Nancy and moved away.

  “I thought you were going to talk about the mystery,” Ned complained.

  “It wasn’t necessary,” Nancy replied. “I picked up some information from him that will help me.”

  Ned was not the only person present who had noticed the Indian student’s infatuation. Some of the girls had overheard part of Anil’s conversation and teasingly asked Nancy if her ivory charm was responsible for such attention.

  Soon Nancy was dubbed “the girl with the ivory charm,” and many asked to inspect the lucky piece. She was embarrassed by the notoriety, and was glad when the dance ended. Nancy said good night and went to her room, tumbled into bed, and did not awaken until the morning sunlight streamed in at the windows.

  Her roommate had already left, and Nancy quickly started to dress. Suddenly she became aware that the ivory charm was no longer around her neck. Had she removed it the previous evening, before retiring? She could not remember doing so.

  She searched the dresser, the bed, her suitcase, and finally in desperation told the other girls of her loss. Everyone joined in the hunt, but the charm could not be found anywhere in the house.

  “Do you suppose that foreign student, Anil, could have stolen it?” a girl suggested.

  “Oh, no!” Nancy exclaimed instantly.

  “But he was interested in the charm. Everyone noticed it. And you said yourself that he spoke of its value.”

  Mrs. Howard, the housekeeper, did not feel so confident that Anil was innocent. Without telling Nancy, she telephoned him. After asking several pointed questions about the charm, she requested that he call at the chapter house as soon as possible.

  A little after nine o’clock, Ned drove up hurriedly to the door and asked for Nancy.

  “I’ve just heard from Anil about your losing the ivory charm,” he said quickly. “But I’m sure Anil had nothing to do with the theft. The poor guy is almost beside himself with worry.”

  “I didn’t accuse Anil,” Nancy said in amazement. “I know he didn’t take the charm.”

  “Mrs. Howard phoned him,” Ned explained. “I suppose she meant well, but Anil thought he had been accused of the theft. He intends to run away before he’s arrested.”

  “We must stop him, Ned.”

  “You’re the only one who can explain to him, Nancy. That’s why I came for you.”

  “I’ll be ready in an instant.”

  She ran back into the house for her handbag. Bidding Mrs. Howard and the girls a quick good-by, she rejoined Ned. He drove swiftly to Anil’s apartment house, but was informed that the young man had departed.

  “Which way did he go?” Ned asked.

  “Down Fulton Street toward the railroad station.”

  Nancy and Ned resumed their pursuit, and a few blocks farther on were gratified to glimpse Anil trudging along with his heavy suitcase. Ned halted the car at the curb.

  “I did not steal the charm!” Anil cried out, before either Ned or Nancy could say a word. “Let me go in peace, I beg you!”

  “We don’t want you to go, Anil,” Nancy said. “It’s all a mistake.”

  “You have found the charm?”

  “No, but Mrs. Howard didn’t mean to accuse you of taking it. We all know you’re innocent. There is no need for you to run away.”

  Anil blinked back tears of relief. When he tried to express his thanks words failed him.

  “You are very good,” he murmured at last. “Very kind. I will do all I am able to help you recover the charm. Now that it is gone your good luck is supposed to end.”

  Nancy smiled. “I’ve always been considered a lucky person, even before receiving Rai’s charm.”

  “Rai?” Anil asked.

  “Yes. You know him?”

  “Only casually. I have met him a few times. Last evening he telephoned me.”

  Ned and Nancy exchanged significant glances. Here, they thought, was an unexpected clue.

  “Was this after the dance?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes, he called my apartment.”

  “And by any chance did you mention my name?”

  Anil was surprised at the question. “Yes, I did,” he admitted. “I told him of your wonderful personality.”

  “And my ivory charm?” Nancy prompted.

  “I did mention it, I believe.”

  “I think that explains everything,” Nancy said quietly to Ned. “My bedroom at the fraternity house is on the first floor and I slept soundly.”

  “I did not mean to reveal anything of importance,” Anil said in alarm. “What have I done?”

  “It isn’t your fault,” Nancy assured him. “However, I’m afraid Rai took my charm. Tell me, where is he now?”

  “I have no idea. He telephoned from a hotel and mentioned that he was leaving the city in an hour.”

  “Don’t look so glum, Anil,” Ned told him. “No one blames you. Jump in the car and we’ll take you home.”

  En route, Anil repeated over and over that he was upset at the outcome of the casual telephone call.

  “Don’t take the matter too seriously,” Nancy urged as they parted. “I have faith I’ll find the ivory charm, and after all it did belong to Rai.”

  During the ride back to the fraternity house, neither she nor Ned talked much. Both felt discouraged and blue.

  “I guess the weekend was a failure, after all,” Ned said as Nancy alighted at the Omega Chi Epsilon door.

  “No, it wasn’t. I had a wonderful time.”

  “But you lost your ivory charm.”

  “It’s a clue to Rai’s whereabouts. My first move when I get home will be to trace him.”

  The next day elapsed, however, without any word of either Rai or the missing Rishi. Mr. Drew had devoted many hours to the case, but had been confronted with defeat at every turn.

  “Rai must have a secret hideout,” he told Nancy. “Otherwise, we’d surely locate him.”

  “At least we’re still in touch with Mrs. Allison,” Nancy answered, “and I have the incriminating documents that will convict her. And this is the day of Dr. Stackpole’s appointment with her.”

  “You must be very careful about what you do or say,” the lawyer cautioned. “You are getting into deep water.”

  “Not so deep that I can’t swim out.” Nancy smiled confidently.

  A few hours later, en route to Professor Stackpole’s residence, she did not feel so courageous. She knew that Rishi’s future as well as her own safety might depend upo
n the outcome of the meeting with Anita Allison.

  Could the young detective prove to be a match for the clever woman?

  CHAPTER XVI

  Nancy’s Masquerade

  NANCY was escorted into Dr. Stackpole’s private study, where she found him nervously pacing the floor.

  “Ah! I am glad that you have arrived early,” he said in relief. “To tell you the truth, I am beginning to wonder if we have made a wise move in inviting Mrs. Allison here. Something may go wrong. Then serious consequences could result if we have made a mistake.”

  “But she’s guilty of kidnapping, Dr. Stackpole. The documents in our possession prove that. And she is a thief as well.”

  “Yes, that is so. But if Mrs. Allison suspects that her true character has been exposed, she may resort to violence. I am afraid for your sake, Nancy.”

  “I’ll be on my guard,” Nancy promised. “Just show me where I am to hide.”

  Unwillingly the elderly man led her to an alcove just off the study, which served as a tiny solarium. It was filled with palms and potted plants, offering an excellent hiding place where Nancy could hear and see everything without being detected. She chose a nook behind a large pottery vase.

  The girl had just secreted herself when the doorbell rang. Dr. Stackpole hurried to answer it.

  He was utterly unprepared for the sight that greeted his eyes. Mrs. Allison was wearing a long flowing white costume and turban, and carried a jewel-bound book in her hand. She entered as if walking in a trance.

  “This way,” the professor stammered, moving toward the study.

  He offered Mrs. Allison a chair, which she ignored. She stared at her host with a glazed expression.

  “You are interested in mysticism?” she murmured, before the dazed professor could speak. “We are, I believe, of one spirit in this matter. I shall read that we may find communion together.”

  With one arm outstretched in a dramatic gesture, Anita Allison began to read from the jeweled volume. Nancy knew by the blank expression on Professor Stackpole’s face that the man was too stunned by the exhibition to comprehend a word. But by the time Mrs. Allison had finished the passage he had recovered his usual poise.

  “A beautiful quotation, Mrs. Allison,” he said. “But our time is short and we must talk of India.”

  “Ah, yes.” The woman sighed. “India—the land of adventure and mystery. What tales I could tell of its glamorous rulers!”

  “Perhaps you could tell me of lama Togara,” Dr. Stackpole suggested cautiously. “I fear the stories that filter to us in the West are but half-truths.”

  “The real story of how lama Togara became a great power has never been told,” Mrs. Allison boasted. “You would not believe me were I to say that I aided in making him both maharaja and governor.”

  “Indeed I would,” Professor Stackpole answered.

  “The untimely death of a maharaja’s heir, a boy named Rishi, left the community affairs of the province in a hopeless muddle,” Mrs. Allison explained sadly, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I was deeply grieved over his demise.”

  “I can imagine you were!” Nancy thought scornfully.

  “Rishi’s mother died of a broken heart, and his father emigrated to a foreign country when a near revolution among his workers started. One thing led to another and the entire province was plunged into turmoil,” Mrs. Allison continued. “I knew that someone strong would have to be found quickly if war were to be avoided. I decided to act—you understand that I was motivated entirely by my desire to aid the poor people.”

  “Oh, certainly,” Professor Stackpole murmured, trying to hide his contempt for the woman.

  “Through various political and psychic connections I was able to place lama Togara in power.”

  “And your reward?” Dr. Stackpole inquired.

  For the first time Mrs. Allison regarded him with a slight trace of suspicion.

  “Nothing,” she answered shortly. “I did it because of my warm feeling for India.”

  Professor Stackpole encouraged her to reveal more. As it became apparent, however, that she was regarding his interest with distrust, he switched to another subject. He spoke of a certain type of carved Indian vase that had intrigued him.

  “I have tried to buy such a vase at various art stores,” he remarked, “but I can’t locate one that pleases me.”

  Mrs. Allison nodded understandingly. “I know exactly the sort of work you mean, and it is difficult to obtain. I have a friend, though, from India, who might be able to find the vase for you.”

  “You are very kind. I don’t suppose your friend could be a man named Rai?”

  Again Mrs. Allison regarded the professor suspiciously. “Certainly not,” she replied stiffly. “I have never heard of him.”

  By this time it was evident to Nancy that Mrs. Allison was entirely too wary to say anything that might involve her in the scheme to deprive Rishi of his rightful inheritance. More drastic methods would have to be employed to compel the woman to confess.

  The girl detective slipped quietly through a window and walked around to the front door. She rapped. A maid promptly answered and led her into the library.

  Immediately Nancy took a deep breath as she entered and apologized for intruding on the pair.

  “We were just having a pleasant little chat about India,” Dr. Stackpole said. “Mrs. Allison is considered an authority on the subject of mysticism.”

  “How interesting!” Nancy exclaimed. “I have always been deeply intrigued by that subject myself. In fact, some of my friends believe that I have psychic powers.”

  “Indeed,” Mrs. Allison remarked.

  “Yes,” Nancy continued glibly, “I have always felt that I had the ability to look into the past. Under correct conditions, I have faith that I could demonstrate this strange power.”

  “Psychic powers are far more rare than you think,” Mrs. Allison said unpleasantly.

  “Nevertheless, I am certain I have them. If you wish, I will prove it.”

  The woman hesitated. Then, before she could speak, Professor Stackpole said quickly, “By all means, Miss Drew. Such a demonstration should prove interesting.”

  “Lower the blinds,” Nancy requested.

  When the room was shrouded in semidarkness she said to Mrs. Allison, “I must have your turban.”

  “This is nonsense,” the woman complained as she unwillingly gave up the round, banded silk hat.

  After placing herself in front of a dark velvet drapery, Nancy closed her eyes. She began to rock slowly back and forth, chanting in low, musical tones. At first her words were unintelligible. Then she began quoting passages from the documents she had taken from Peter Putnam.

  Mrs. Allison leaned forward, gripping the arms of her chair. Her eyes dilated with fear. She tried to speak, but made only a choking noise in her throat.

  Nancy knew it was time for the climax. She took a step toward the woman, and her hand swept outward in a gesture of accusation.

  “You are the guilty person!” she proclaimed. “You deprived Rishi of his right to become a maharaja and brought him to this country. Confess! Confess!”

  For an instant Mrs. Allison seemed too stunned to move. Then she dropped down to her knees before Nancy, sobbing wildly.

  “Yes, yes! I did it. I employed Rai to kidnap the boy so that lama Togara might be put in power! I did it for India!”

  “You kidnapped Rishi because your reward was a precious treasure,” Nancy corrected sternly.

  Before Mrs. Allison could reply, there was an unfortunate interruption. A telephone rang in the adjoining room.

  Mrs. Allison straightened. The look of fear left her face and she became composed.

  “I must answer,” Professor Stackpole murmured as the ringing continued.

  Nancy realized that the spell was broken and expediently emerged from her “trance.” She had secured the confession she wanted. The professor would serve as a reliable witness against Mrs. Allison at the pr
oper time.

  “Well, did my psychic demonstration convince you?” Nancy smiled.

  “It did. I—I don’t suppose you remember much of what you said?”

  Nancy was not compelled to reply, for Professor Stackpole appeared in the doorway just then.

  “The call is for you, Nancy. Your father wishes to speak to you.”

  Nancy hurried to the telephone. “What is it, Dad?” she asked.

  “I really shouldn’t have bothered you,” the lawyer apologized. “I merely phoned to learn if you’re safe. Since you left I’ve been worried. By the way, Ned was here looking for you.”

  “I’m all right, Dad. Everything is going great. Only I can’t take time to tell you about it now. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

  Nancy cradled the phone and returned to the library. She paused in the doorway to stare in horror. Professor Stackpole lay stretched out on the floor, unconscious. His head was bleeding from a deep wound. Mrs. Allison had disappeared!

  CHAPTER XVII

  A Maharaja’s Son

  “MRS. Allison did this!” Nancy thought as she ran to the professor’s side. “That awful woman was afraid he would reveal to the police what he’d heard!”

  Just then the front door bell rang. Instead of going to answer it Nancy called loudly for help.

  “Coming!” a masculine voice shouted from the kitchen.

  The next moment Ned Nickerson ran into the room, but stopped short as he saw the professor lying on the floor.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Dr. Stackpole is badly hurt,” Nancy cried frantically. “I guess he was struck with this heavy bookend.” She pointed to one that lay nearby. “We must give him first aid!”

  She and Ned worked silently over the aged professor, and were relieved that his heartbeat seemed regular, although weak.

  “He’ll be all right in a few minutes, I think,” Ned said after a time. “But we need ice or a cold compress.”

  “I’ll see if I can find the maid,” Nancy offered.

  She went to the kitchen. Neither the cook nor the maid were there, but the refrigerator contained an ample supply of ice cubes. The caller at the front entrance had been forgotten, and he did not ring again.