(#26) The Clue of the Leaning Chimney (7 page)

Nancy started the motor. Soon they were a good distance from the eerie spot.

“I never want to go there again,” Bess declared.

“Not even to help your cousin Dick?” Nancy asked with a grin.

Bess finally conceded maybe she would get over her fright, and she did want Dick to acquire the special clay if possible.

After Nancy drove the girls to their homes, she decided to drop into Dick’s shop and tell him of her latest discovery. She found a high school boy, who clerked for the young pottery maker after school, behind the counter.

“Would you like something, miss?” he asked.

“I’d like to see Mr. Milton.”

“He’s busy in the back of the shop right now,” the boy answered. “But he’ll be through in a minute. Will you wait?”

Nancy smiled. “He’s a friend of mine,” she said. “I’ll go back and see him.”

In the rear room Dick was engrossed at the potter’s wheel, his sandy hair tumbling over his forehead. He was so busy he did not notice his caller.

Nancy watched while Dick deftly pressed a lump of clay on the center of the wheel, then allowed it to rise between his fingers in a spiral column before depressing it.

Once more the column spiraled. The young man again pushed it down, at the same time centering and truing the clay. Then he pressed his thumbs into the soft clay, rapidly forming a cylinder.

With one hand inside the cylinder and the other outside, Dick molded the clay into the thickness he desired. Nancy now saw the cylinder shape like magic into a large jar.

Dick snapped off a switch and the whirring wheel slowly stopped. As he turned around, a look of pleased surprise spread over his face.

“Nancy Drew! How did you get here?”

“Simple. That jar you just made is Aladdin’s lamp. You rubbed it ... and I appeared!”

Dick laughed, then grew sober. “I wish we could conjure up a genie to find that China clay pit,” he said a bit ruefully.

“Maybe we don’t need a genie,” said Nancy.

“What do you mean?”

“We may have found the leaning chimney!” Nancy beamed.

Dick gasped. “Honestly?”

“I don’t know yet.” Nancy told Dick what she and her friends had discovered. “I’m going back soon to look more thoroughly.”

A boyish smile of hope lit Dick’s face as he escorted Nancy to the door.

“I’ll keep you posted on further developments,” Nancy promised.

After dinner that evening she accompanied her father to his study on the second floor.

“You’re up to something, young lady,” he said shrewdly. “What is it?”

Nancy told him of her visit to the strange enclosure. Mr. Drew frowned.

“I don’t like the sound of it,” he said. “Strikes me as a good place to stay away from.”

“But, Dad!” Nancy protested, her blue eyes growing large with emphasis. “There may be a valuable pit of China clay around there. And if I don’t go back, I’ll never find out!”

“If it’s inside the fence, the owner probably won’t want to sell the clay, anyway,” Mr. Drew reminded his daughter. “Well, look around if you wish. But be careful. Don’t go there alone.”

“All right,” she promised.

Carson Drew took a paper from his pocket and said, “I have a clue, too. It’s about the Engs.”

“What is it?” Nancy asked eagerly.

“I received a phone call from San Francisco this afternoon,” Mr. Drew explained, “and my secretary wrote down this report.” He settled back in his chair and continued:

“It says that when the Engs arrived in San Francisco, on their trip to the United States, they were met at the dock by a man named David Carr.

“Carr was sales representative for the West Coast Trading Company, a San Francisco importing house,” Mr. Drew went on. “He and Eng Moy apparently were acquainted as the result of business dealings. When the Engs left San Francisco on their tour of United States pottery plants, Carr went with them.”

“Does the report mention what David Carr looks like?” Nancy asked.

“No. The report says there doesn’t appear to be any photograph or description of him available. Even the officials of the importing company can’t furnish any clues. It seems that Carr did practically all his work for them in China; contacted them by mail. Then, about the time he met the Engs in San Francisco, he dropped out of sight.”

“Maybe Carr has something to do with the Engs’ disappearance,” Nancy speculated.

“Could be,” her father agreed. He put the report away. “Anyway, it’s a clue to work on.”

As Nancy pondered, she glanced idly at a New York City newspaper which lay on her father’s desk. Suddenly a small black headline caught her eye. She picked up the paper and scanned the story, then read it to her father.

It described a robbery that had taken place in New York. An ancient Chinese tea jar, dating from the Sung dynasty, had been stolen from the delivery truck of the Sen-yung Oriental Gift Shop on Madison Avenue.

“That’s the place where Mr. Townsend bought the vase for his wife; the one stolen during the party!” Nancy exclaimed. “I’ll bet there’s some connection between the two robberies!”

She decided to put in a long-distance call to the gift shop the following morning and find out if the thief had been arrested.

“He may be the same person who stole Mrs. Townsend’s vase!” Nancy cried excitedly.

Mr. Drew smiled. “Why not call the New York police tonight?” he suggested. “I’ll do it for you if you like.”

In a few minutes he had the desired information. The thief was still at large.

“How would you like to go to New York and talk to the owner of the gift shop yourself?” Mr. Drew suggested. “You’ll get more information that way. Besides, you’ll be able to spend a few days with Aunt Eloise.”

“It’s a deal!” exclaimed Nancy as she hugged her father. She had put off visiting her father’s sister, Miss Eloise Drew, for far too long. “I’ll catch the morning plane if I can get a reservation,” she decided.

Fortunately, when she telephoned the airport, she was able to get a seat. Then she wired her aunt, telling of her time of arrival.

She slipped into bed with her head full of anticipation. New York always held a thrill for her!

Nancy was awakened the next morning by a small, cold nose sniffing her hand. She sat up to see Togo, her little fox terrier, squatting on her suitcase, his eyes fixed on her anxiously. His stubby tail began to wag while he whimpered pleadingly.

“No, Togo.” Nancy yawned. “You can’t come.”

She rose and dressed quickly. Two hours later Nancy boarded the plane to New York. The trip was smooth and pleasant. A moment after the plane landed, Nancy saw her aunt, a tall, attractive woman of middle age.

Miss Drew, whom Nancy strikingly resembled, possessed a charming grace which marked her as a woman of unusual intelligence.

Eloise Drew knew that Nancy was a lot like her, and secretly this gave her a thrill. Years before, when Nancy had lost her mother, Miss Drew had considered coming to live with her brother. But the private school where she taught, and in which she had a financial interest, needed her, too. When Hannah Gruen had proved so satisfactory, Miss Drew had decided to remain in New York. But she enjoyed her niece’s visits immensely.

“You look wonderful, Nancy!” she said as they embraced. “And how’s your father?”

“He’s fine,” Nancy replied, squeezing her aunt’s hand.

The luncheon hour was made particularly exciting by the young detective’s tale of the stolen potteries. At the end of the meal, Miss Drew readily agreed to Nancy’s suggestion that they taxi to Sen-yung’s Oriental Gift Shop.

Some time later their cab swung out of the heavy traffic on Madison Avenue and pulled up before the store. Nancy and her aunt stood outside a moment to admire the exotic and colorful Chinese potteries and jewelry, and odd pieces of Oriental bric-a-brac displayed in a large plate-glass window. Then they entered the shop.

Three men, one in deliveryman’s uniform, were talking at the rear of the store. One of them came forward as Nancy and her aunt entered.

Nancy hesitated. The name of the proprietor painted on the display window was Chinese, but the man who confronted her was not an Oriental.

“Is Mr. Sen-yung here?” she inquired.

The man shook his head regretfully. “Mr. Sen-yung has been at home ill for the past six weeks,” he informed her. “Is there anything I can do for you? I’m John Tallow, Mr. Sen-yung’s partner.”

“I’m sure you can help.” Nancy smiled. “Some time ago Mr. Townsend of River Heights purchased a lovely Ming vase here. I’d like to find out who sold you the vase.”

“Mr. Townsend?” the man repeated slowly. “Just a moment. I’ll look up the sale in my books.”

He went into an office at the rear of the store. As Nancy and her aunt wandered about, examining the beautiful jewelry and porcelain, Nancy could plainly hear the other two men talking. She realized at once that one was a detective. It was evident from their conversation that the deliveryman was the driver of the truck from which the Sung tea jar had been stolen.

“I didn’t get a good look at him,” she heard the deliveryman say. “I’d just lifted the jar out of the truck to deliver it when I felt a gun at my back. Then a voice told me to get in the truck and drive away.”

Nancy stepped forward. She apologized for the interruption and explained her interest in the case. The detective told her to ask as many questions as she wished, but there was little that the deliveryman could add to his story.

“The thief’s hat was pulled down and his coat collar turned up,” he said flatly. “I was too busy worrying about what he was going to do with the gun to look at him much. I did what he told me to do—left the jar on the sidewalk and scrammed!”

Nancy was disappointed not to learn more. At that moment she felt her aunt’s hand on her sleeve.

“Do come and look at this vase,” Miss Drew urged. “It sounds like the one you were talking about.”

She led her niece to a glass cabinet off to one side of the shop. Nancy stared in amazement at the piece on display. Glazed on jade-green porcelain was a Chinese dragon in black and red.

The same design she had seen woven into the tapestry in Mr. Soong’s home! The one he had said was on his stolen vase!

CHAPTER IX

Pursuit

NANCY hurried to the rear of the shop to find Mr. Tallow. Before she had a chance to ask about Mr. Soong’s vase, he gave her some startling information.

“The Townsend vase,” he told Nancy, “was sold to me by a Mr. David Carr.”

Nancy stared at him in disbelief. David Carr! That was the name of the man her father had mentioned; the man who had vanished so mysteriously in company with the Engs!

“You’re quite sure?”

“Quite.” Mr. Tallow smiled pleasantly. “It’s all written down in my ledger.”

Nancy pointed out the dragon vase in the case. “Would you mind telling me where that came from?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Mr. Tallow replied. “I bought that porcelain only yesterday from Mr. Carr.”

Nancy caught her breath. She had been sure the dragon vase had been stolen from Dick’s shop by John Manning. Were Carr and Manning the same person? Or had Manning sold the vase to Carr, who in turn had sold it to Sen-yung’s Oriental Gift Shop?

“I’m sorry to have to tell you,” Nancy said, “but this vase looks just like one that was stolen from a shop in River Heights.”

Mr. Tallow’s jaw dropped. “It can’t be true!”

“The dragon design is exactly the same as the pattern on a Ming vase that belonged to a Mr. Soong,” Nancy added.

“Mr. Soong!” the shopkeeper exclaimed. “I know him well! He is an old friend of Mr. Sen-yung! Oh, this is terrible!”

Mr. Tallow looked so worried that Nancy felt sorry for him and asked if she might examine the vase to see if it really were the same one.

“Of course, of course,” he agreed.

He unlocked the cabinet door and handed the piece to Nancy. She laid the vase on its side and studied the bottom. Clearly painted on the base were several Chinese symbols. They appeared to be exactly like one set of the markings that she had found in Manning’s room; the set Mr. Soong had said was on his vase.

Nancy translated the symbols. “Made in the studio of deep peace.” She looked at Mr. Tallow. “Is that correct?”

He nodded nervously.

At that moment the door of the shop opened and a short, round-faced Chinese gentleman came in. He took off his hat, exposing a completely bald head, and fanned himself vigorously.

Mr. Tallow hurried toward him. “Mr. Sen-yung! Thank goodness you’re back!”

After introducing his Chinese partner to Nancy, her aunt and the detective, Mr. Tallow repeated what Nancy had said about the dragon vase. Mr. Sen-yung’s face became grave. Taking a magnifying glass from his pocket, he examined the pottery. Suddenly he straightened and turned to his partner.

“When did you buy this vase?” he asked sharply.

“Yesterday,” Mr. Tallow replied.

“You should not have bought it without first consulting me!” Mr. Sen-yung told him heatedly.

“But you were ill!” his partner protested. “I didn’t want to disturb you!” He looked at the vase, then back at the Chinese. “Is anything wrong?”

“Everything!” Mr. Sen-yung exclaimed. “This vase is a fake—an imitation!”

Mr. Tallow stared at him, dumbfounded.

“How can you tell, Mr. Sen-yung?” Nancy asked.