“Oh, that’s how you found out who she is,” Nancy said.
Ned went on, “She became very agitated. No one could quiet her, not even the hijackers, who threatened her.”
Dave spoke up. “See that woman with the enormous blond hairdo?”
“Hm-mm, where?” George replied.
“Down there at the last ticket counter.”
George strained her neck over the milling crowd. “Oh, yes, now I see her,” she said after a moment.
“Well, that’s the one!”
“I’ll be right back,” George declared and darted after the woman. “Are you the wife of one of the Hoaxters?” she blurted out when she caught up to the stranger.
“Yes. Where is he?” the woman asked gruffly.
“He told me that he would be back later. He was here for a long time, then left.”
The woman stared at George. “Are you a special friend of his?” she demanded crisply.
George stepped back. “I—”
The woman gave her no chance for a reply. “You must be, or he wouldn’t have told you his plans.”
“You’re wrong,” George said quietly.
Her calmness nettled the blond woman. She began to shriek insults at George, gesticulating wildly.
George was so stunned that for a moment she was speechless. Suddenly the woman raised her hand and slapped George hard on one cheek. Before the girl could recover her wits, the stranger hit her again. George did not know what to do. Should she fight back or run away and avoid further embarrassment?
17
A Hoax Exposed
Adroitly George dodged the blows of the irate stranger. The athletic girl had taken lessons in judo and wondered if she should use her skills now. This proved to be unnecessary, however.
“I saw the whole thing!” a guard called out as he rushed up to stop the fight. “Do you wish to bring charges against this woman?”
“I think not,” George replied.
“Well, I’ll have to report the incident anyway, so if you change your mind later, you can.” He turned to the woman. “Your name, please.”
“Mrs. Horace Browne,” the woman sputtered. “My husband is a magician. He works for a famous group called the Hoaxters!”
“Lady, I don’t care whom your husband works for. It doesn’t give you the right to attack people in this airport!”
Mrs. Browne stared at him in suppressed anger. Then she gave George a scorching glance, turned on her heels and walked away.
“Are you all right, miss?” the guard asked George.
“Fine.”
“Okay. Then I’ll go back to my post.”
Nancy, Bess, and the boys had caught up to George and were aghast when they saw her reddened face.
“What happened?” Burt asked.
Quickly George explained, adding, “If that guard hadn’t arrived, I would have tried one of my judo tricks on that crazy Mrs. Horace Browne ... that’s her name. So the sleight of hand man’s real name is Horace Browne. You were right, Nancy, Ronaldo Jensen is only his stage name.”
“That’s a good clue for us,” Nancy remarked.
“I’m going to have a word with that woman one of these days!” Burt muttered.
“Why did she hit you, George?” Bess asked.
“Because she thought I was her husband’s girl-friend!” George replied, making a face. The others laughed.
“What a silly idea!” Bess said in disgust.
After the group had arrived at the Vetters’ and were comfortably seated in the living room with little cakes and cups of steaming chocolate, Nancy told the boys about the mystery on which the girls had been working. When Ned, Burt, and Dave heard about the swindle with the temperature-controlled clothing material, they roared with laughter.
Ned remarked, “It’s a wonderful idea. Anybody who could invent something like that would become a millionaire.”
Nancy looked at him. “How about you? You’re majoring in science. Such an invention should be easy for you!”
“Sure,” Dave added. “You wouldn’t mind making a million, would you?”
“And taking us all on a great trip!” George said. “How many say aye to that?”
“Aye!” the others shouted at the top of their lungs.
Ned grinned. “Okay,” he said. “If I ever make a million on clothing or anything else, I’ll take you all to the moon!”
When the hilarity died down, Nancy said, “I have something else to tell you.” She briefed the boys on the fern-watermarked stationery.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll call Dad to see if he has any word for me yet,” she added and went to the telephone. Unfortunately, Mr. Drew had not been able to track down the manufacturer. “But I’ll keep trying,” he promised.
“Fern watermark?” Dave said after she had hung up. “Maybe I can help you. An uncle of mine is in the printing business. He produces bank notes, fine stationery, and all kinds of high-quality paper. Shall I call him and ask if he ever heard of the design?”
“Please do!” Nancy urged.
Dave was on the telephone for some time. When he returned, the young man was smiling. The others were sure he had learned something important.
“I have an answer for you, Nancy,” he said. “The Fern Printing Company is a small outfit located in Philadelphia.”
“Great!” Nancy exclaimed. “I’ll see if I can get the number from Information.”
After several unsuccessful attempts, she was told that the firm had no listed number. Disappointed, Nancy gave up.
“Why does a legitimate business firm have an unlisted number?” she asked herself and returned to her’ friends. They discussed the matter. Finally she said, “I’ll call the police and tell them what we know. Perhaps they can find out Fern’s private number for us.”
It took the Los Angeles police department a while to supply the information, but finally Nancy was told that the firm had problems with their bills and were temporarily using the direct line of the president.
“Thank you,” Nancy said, writing down the number. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything important.”
She hung up, then dialed the number. A woman answered. “Fern Printing Company. May I help you?”
“Yes, I’m interested in a certain type of paper—”
“I’ll connect you,” the receptionist interrupted. “Just a minute, please.”
Nancy’s heart was pounding. Was she about to make a great discovery?
A few moments passed, then a man said, “Harrison speaking. Who is this?”
Nancy evaded the question. “I understand that you manufacture fern-watermarked stationery. I haven’t been able to find it in the stores here in Los Angeles. Is there someone who could show me a sample sheet of the fern pattern?”
Mr. Harrison paused briefly. “I’m afraid we don’t have any in stock right now but I can give you the name of someone who buys from us.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Nancy replied.
“It’s Mr. Horace Browne who lives in Los Angeles.”
Nancy’s heart began to pound. What an incredible revelation!
“He should be listed in the phone book,” Mr. Harrison went on. “But here’s his address anyway.”
Nancy wrote it down quickly. “Thank you very much,” she said. “I’ll send you an order as soon as I’ve seen Mr. Browne’s paper.”
“Fine. It will be available soon.”
Nancy rejoined her friends. “Guess what!” she said. “I found out that Horace Browne is using the fern watermark!”
“That proves the ransom note was written by him!” George exclaimed. “Nancy, what terrific evidence!”
Ned added, “Now all we do is find out his address and confront him with the proof.”
“I have the address, too,” Nancy said. “All we have to do is look up his number.”
George went to get the phone book. But to their dismay, the young people found that Horace Browne was not listed.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ned remarked. “If he’s a crook, he’d keep under cover.”
“Right,” George said. “It wouldn’t be wise for us to call and let him know we’re coming. He’d be sure to suspect something.”
Nancy agreed. “Tomorrow we’ll see him personally. It’s too late now. Meanwhile, I have another idea. Why don’t we go to the Hoaxters’ show?” She turned to Ned, her eyes twinkling. “How would you like to do a little detective work at the theater?”
18
Ned’s Disguise
Ned smiled at Nancy. “Do you want me to go up on the Hoaxters’s stage and pull a few tricks of my own?”
“In a way, yes. When they take your wallet, there’ll be a piece of paper in it torn from a small notebook. In the corner will be the Vetters’ phone number.”
Ned’s eyebrows shot up. “What for?”
“As bait. I want to get the fingerprints of the man who rifles through wallets. Afterwards, I’ll dust the paper with magnetic powder so the prints will become visible.”
Ned whistled, “Smart move! How to get evidence without really trying.”
“That’s right. Just make sure that the paper is still in your wallet when it’s returned to you after the show. It will prove that the Hoaxters are the first link in the criminal chain.”
Ned pretended to be puffed up with his assignment. He stuck his fingers into the armholes of his sleeveless sweater and paraded around the room. The others laughed and wished him luck.
George said, “There’s only one catch. If Mrs. Browne is on stage, she may recognize you.”
Nancy suggested that when they arrived at the performance the boys go in by themselves and find seats on the left of the auditorium, while the girls would sit on the right.
Ned and his fraternity brothers agreed to the plan, and Burt added, “This way we won’t be connected with Nancy Drew, the well-known girl detective!”
Nancy smiled but did not reply. She decided that she must telephone Senora Mendez and find out if there had been any further word from the kidnappers. When she heard the phone ringing in the Mendez residence, Nancy had a few seconds of hope that the child might have been returned. But as soon as her Mexican friend answered, the young sleuth knew she was wrong.
“The dear child has not come back to us,” Senora Mendez told her, “and we still have no idea where she is.”
“Have you or Dolores’s parents received any other ransom notes?” Nancy asked.
“Yes, two. But both were fakes.”
“What do you mean?” Nancy asked.
Señora Mendez said that money had been requested in both of them. It had been delivered to the specified places, but was never picked up.
“Oh, Nancy, I’m so worried that Dolores may be held for another reason besides money,” the child’s grandmother wailed. “I was told that certain people steal children and sell them to couples who want to adopt them.”
The thought horrified Nancy, but she said calmly, “I doubt that anyone would do this with a girl as old as Dolores. She would be bound to reveal her name and where she came from and would be returned to you.”
Senora Mendez said this thought made her feel better. “My private detective picked up one clue that makes it seem almost certain that Dolores is in Los Angeles,” she added. “He was so sure of it that he personally called the Los Angeles police and told them his suspicions.”
“What was the clue?” Nancy asked eagerly.
“One of the recent ransom notes had been made up from words cut from a newspaper just as before. My detective, who lived in Los Angeles for years, remembers that one of the papers in that city uses a special type of print in its entertainment section that he has never seen anywhere else. He’s positive the words were taken from that paper.”
“Have you heard from the police?” Nancy inquired.
“No. But I’m worried that the kidnappers may have found out I have a detective working on the case and that he has been in touch with the police. Perhaps that is the reason they haven’t returned the child. But why are they sending me fake notes?”
“Maybe they’re trying to tell you that they won’t play for real as long as you have the detective involved,” Nancy replied. “But I suggest that you not let him go just yet. What you told me about the newspaper clue only reinforces my suspicion that Dolores is here in Los Angeles. I’d like to hunt for her a little longer.”
“All right, Nancy. But please call me tomorrow and let me know if you’ve had any success.”
After Nancy had reported her findings to the Vetters and her friends, she said, “Tomorrow we’ll call on Mr. Browne who buys the fern stationery. Mr. Vetter, where is his home located?”
“It’s in an area of very expensive houses with large grounds. Many of them are fenced in. You might have a hard time trying to enter.”
“I’ll take a chance,” Nancy replied with a determined set to her chin.
After dinner that evening the six young people set off to see the Hoaxters’ show. The boys walked to the corner and took a bus, while Mr. Vetter lent his car to the girls. When they arrived at the theater, it was filling rapidly. The three detectives did not see their friends.
“We’d better not look for them too hard,” George advised. “If there are any spies watching us, they may catch on to our little scheme.”
The girls sat down and studied their programs. They were surprised to see that a new act had been added to the performance.
“This is the one where the sleight of hand man works with his wife,” Bess whispered.
Soon the show started. The girls had seen it so many times that they were not particularly interested in it until Mr. Browne, alias Ronaldo Jensen, invited members of the audience to come on stage.
George said, “I hope Mrs. Browne doesn’t recognize Ned.”
He himself had had the same idea. When Ned reached the stage, the girls had a hard time to keep from laughing. He was wearing a mustache and beard!
“Ned must have rented or bought them on the way to the theater,” Bess said in a low tone.
Apparently Ned’s disguise worked. The woman gave no sign that she had ever seen the young man before. He was relieved of his wallet by the sleight of hand man without his noticing. Then it was held up for those in the audience to see, along with handbags, watches, and jewelry.
As in previous shows the articles were taken away, and their owners told to return after the performance. Later they filed into the back room behind the stage to claim their property.
The girls, meanwhile, had gone to the Vetters’ car and were already on their way home. “I hope Ned got his wallet back with the piece of paper intact,” Bess said.
“We’ll soon find out,” Nancy told her.
After the girls arrived at the Vetters’, they paced up and down the living room impatiently, waiting for the boys. Finally they walked in.
“I have it!” Ned said jubilantly. “Nancy, bring your magnetic powder!”
Nancy had already brought the small fingerprint kit she carried in her suitcase. Gingerly she removed the paper from Ned’s wallet and dusted it. Everyone held his breath. Would fingerprints show up?
19
The Young Prisoner
“The fingerprints are showing up!” George exclaimed.
The young people watched in fascination as the blank white paper revealed the ends of fingers on two hands.
“Are they the left and right hands of the same person?” Bess asked.
No one was sure. This was one thing the police would have to decide.
“Let’s go now!” George urged.
“It’s too late. We’ll have to wait until morning,” Nancy said.
After breakfast the following day it was decided that only Nancy and Ned would go to headquarters while the rest of the group helped the Vetters with various chores.
When Nancy showed the fingerprints to the chief in his office, he was impressed. “Excellent work,” he complimented he
r. “I’ll have these traced at once. Please wait outside in the lobby. I’ll let you know the result as soon as I can.”
Almost an hour passed before the couple were summoned back into the chief’s office. He smiled at them. “These prints belong to a wanted criminal named Sam Gambro. I’d like you to look at photographs of him and see if you can identify the man.”
An enormous book lay open on a side table. The chief explained that it contained mug shots of various people who either were or had been prisoners.
“Gambro is on this page. Can you identify him?”
Nancy gazed for several seconds at the picture under which was the name Sam Gambro. He was heavyset, dark-haired, and jowly.
Finally she shook her head. “As far as I know, I have never seen this man before. So I guess he’s not part of the Hoaxters’s group. But he could be one of the con men who work with them.”
“Possibly,” the officer replied. “In order to find out, this is what we’ll do. I’ll send a couple of detectives to the Hoaxters who, I know, are rehearsing at the theater this morning, and have my men take their fingerprints. The detectives will pose as ‘The Committee for the Protection of Entertainment in Los Angeles.’”
Nancy and Ned laughed, then went home. They told the waiting group what the chief was planning to do. All of them listened eagerly for the telephone to ring. Finally it did. Nancy answered.
“Miss Drew? This is the chief calling. The fingerprints our men brought back that belong to the sleight of hand man of the Hoaxters match those of Sam Gambro. This means he and Horace Browne are the same person.”
“But Browne doesn’t look anything like the man I saw in the photograph!” Nancy exclaimed.
“He must have had plastic surgery and lost a lot of weight,” the chief said.
“Will Browne be apprehended?” Nancy asked.
“Yes, indeed. My men are already on their way back to the theater.”
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