The Strange Message in the Parchment (7 page)

Dan translated further. “After Tony’s parents died, he was brought to this country as a baby. He has been reared by Italians from Rome and never allowed to mingle with anyone else. He has had good schooling, but only from an Italian college tutor who comes in the evening. Poor Tony says he is so tired sometimes from working hard all day that the print blurs before his eyes.”

Dan went on to explain that Tony had never been away from the farm since the day he was brought there. “His uncle says that some day, when they get rich, the two of them will return to Italy.”

Further conversation was interrupted when Tony cried out and spoke excitedly in Italian. Dan translated, “Run fast! My uncle is coming! He will be very angry! He doesn’t like trespassers and may harm you. But come to see me again. Oh, please come to see me again!”

 

 

 

Tony started working furiously with his hoe and the visitors left quickly, running toward a nearby downhill slope so they would not be seen.

But it was too late. From not far away came a loud shout. Angry words were hurled at them in English, and at Tony in Italian.

“Get out of here! I told you to stay away from this farm!”

Everyone turned to look. Rocco kept yelling. “You girls got no business here! Don’t come back or you’ll get hurt!”

So Rocco had recognized Nancy and Junie.

Without waiting to be caught by Mr. Rocco, Nancy and her friends fled down the hillside. They reached the car, jumped in, and sped off.

It was not until then that anyone spoke. Dan asked, “What are you going to do now?”

Nancy thought for a few moments while she caught her breath, and finally said, “I believe I should get in touch with Mr. Vincenzo Caspari. He should be home by now.”

“Who is he?” Dan asked.

“An acquaintance of my friend Ned Nickerson,” the young sleuth replied. “Ned gave me his address over the phone and thought perhaps he could help us. He’s a well-known painter.”

Junie and Dan thought this would be a good idea. Nancy went on to tell them that the man had been born in America but his parents had come from Italy. “No doubt Mr. Caspari speaks Italian. I understand he studied in Italy for several years.”

Dan grinned. “He probably speaks better Italian than I do! Perhaps he should talk to little Tony.”

“I think,” said Nancy, “that you did very well and got a lot of important information for us.”

“I’ll tell that to my Italian professor,” Dan replied. “Maybe he’ll give me a better grade!”

The university student said he must leave in order to attend a class later that day. He promised to return soon. “Call me if you need me,” he added.

As soon as he had gone, Nancy went to the phone and called Vincenzo Caspari. She introduced herself and said Ned Nickerson had suggested that perhaps the artist could help her solve a mystery posed by a puzzling group of pictures on a parchment. “They’re supposed to contain a great secret,” she concluded.

“That sounds most intriguing,” the artist replied. “Ned has told me that you like to solve mysteries. I presume there is more to this story than you’re telling me.”

“Oh, yes,” Nancy replied.

But before she could go on, the man interjected, “I can’t imagine how I might be able to help you. When I look at a picture, that is all I see—the composition, the color. I do not look for anything beyond that. It is up to the artist who painted it to reveal whatever hidden meanings he intended.”

“Please, Mr. Caspari,” Nancy said, “don’t say no until you’ve seen the parchment. I have no real proof my guesses are correct, but perhaps after you see the pictures, you can give me some clues that will help solve the mystery.”

“You flatter me,” Vincenzo Caspari said. “After all, I am only an artist, not a detective.”

Nancy said quickly, “You may find yourself becoming a sleuth before you know it!”

They exchanged a few more words before the artist consented to meet with the young detective. Nancy inquired if it would be possible for him to come over some time soon.

He replied, “I can make it tomorrow morning. Is that soon enough?”

“It would be wonderful,” Nancy told him. “What time shall we say?”

Ten o’clock was decided upon. The conversation ceased, and the artist hung up. Nancy did too, but she stood there, deep in thought. Finally she was interrupted by Junie, who was going outside to do some work.

“I want to see if that little fellow whose legs I massaged is getting along all right,” she said. “How about coming with me?”

Nancy was glad to. She had been wondering about the little black lamb herself. The girls hurried out to the barn where he was kept.

“I see several new lambs have been brought in since yesterday,” Junie remarked. “Oh, and here are twins.”

Two snow-white bundles of fur lay sound asleep together. Their mother stood nearby. The ewe looked at the girls with a warning eye.

Junie laughed. “I’m not going to hurt your babies. I just want to congratulate you.” The ewe seemed to understand and gave a loud
baa.

“They are darling!” Nancy remarked. “Don’t tell me they’re likely to be taken away and their skins made into parchment or vellum.”

Junie put a hand on Nancy’s arm. “That’s for my father to decide. After all, this is his livelihood, and business is business.”

Nancy realized how necessary the slaughtering of domesticated sheep, cows, goats, and hogs was. Otherwise the countryside would be overrun with animals. She also thought, “As long as people want to eat meat, this practice will go on.”

In a few moments they reached the pen where the injured black lamb was. Both Nancy and Junie were delighted to see that he was walking around quite normally. They plucked some freshly cut hay from a nearby cart and held it for him to munch. He took it gratefully, then looked at the girls with his bright eyes as if asking for more.

Junie laughed. “You didn’t know that I was trying an experiment on you,” she said. “I just wanted to see if you had a good appetite and could swallow all right.” She turned to Nancy, “I think I’ll have to report that this little fellow is ready to be put out in a field.” She went to a book fastened with a cord to a small desk and wrote down her report.

After lunch Junie got the jeep and the girls rode all around the farm. This time Nancy had a chance to see other large fields of sheep. Each one had a shepherd.

“Eezy is my favorite of them all,” Junie told her friend.

The day wore on and Nancy could not help thinking how quickly it had gone by, when Junie reminded her it was time to go to bed. All the lights were extinguished and everyone went upstairs. In a short time the house became very quiet.

Junie fell asleep at once, but Nancy lay awake, going over the whole mystery in her mind. Each time her thoughts would lead to Tony. She became incensed at Mr. Rocco and thought, “He might cause a permanent injury to that boy! Tony should be taken away from him!”

Presently Nancy became fidgety. Not only was she wide awake, but questions were going round and round in her head.

“It’s no use staying here,” the girl detective told herself finally. “I’ll go downstairs and study the parchment for a while.”

Nancy put on her robe and slippers, picked up her flashlight, and tiptoed from the room. She closed the door and walked softly along the hallway to the stairs, descending noiselessly so as not to awaken anyone. Then she crossed the big hall.

Nancy was about to turn on a light switch, when she was startled by a thin shaft of light moving across the living room. She saw no one, but realized that it was impossible for the light to move by itself.

She strained her eyes and finally discerned the dim figure of a man holding a flashlight. Presently the light stopped moving and was beamed directly on the parchment hanging over the mantel.

Nancy’s heart was beating very fast. Was some member of the household holding the flash? Suddenly she realized he was an intruder. The man was wearing a stocking mask!

The girl sleuth stood perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. Suddenly the masked figure reached up and took down the picture.

Nancy decided it was time to act. “Leave that alone!” she commanded.

In response the man turned around and threw the picture at Nancy. It missed her by a fraction of an inch and crashed against the door jamb. It fell to the floor, the glass broken to bits.

Nancy tried to reach the light switch, but before she could do so, her assailant shone his brilliant light directly in her face. She could see nothing!

The thief leaped across the room and grabbed the parchment and frame. He dashed to the front door.

“Stop! Stop!” Nancy cried at the top of her voice.

As the intruder started to open the front door, Nancy reached him. He tried to ward her off with his free hand, but she managed to get hold of it and rip off the glove he was wearing.

The girl’s movement had been quick, but it gave the thief a chance to fend her off. With a great shove he sent her reeling across the hallway. As she was regaining her balance, the man opened the door and rushed out, carrying the precious parchment with him!

Just as Nancy recovered her wits, the house was flooded with lights. Mr. and Mrs. Flockhart and Junie hurried down the stairs, each asking what had happened. Nancy quickly explained. At once Junie’s father set off an earsplitting alarm. He explained that it would awaken the workers in their cottages so they would be on the lookout for the burglar.

Mrs. Flockhart said, “Shouldn’t we alert the police, also?”

Her husband agreed, so Junie hurried to the phone and called. Meanwhile, Mrs. Flockhart took Nancy into the living room and made her sit down on the couch.

“This was a dreadful experience for you,” she said. “Now I want you to take it easy.”

The girl detective was much too excited to take it easy. Besides, she felt all right and tried to reassure Junie’s mother.

“I’m furious at myself for letting the thief get away!” she said. “That was bad enough, but to think he took the parchment with him!”

Nancy was on the verge of tears. Apparently Mrs. Flockhart realized this. Giving the girl a hug, she said, “I think we should be thankful that you weren’t hurt!”

Nancy appreciated the concern and tried to smile, but she said, “I came here at Junie’s invitation to solve the mystery of the paintings on that parchment. I didn’t do it and now the parchment is gone! I may as well go home,” she finished with a sigh.

“Oh, no, no!” Junie’s mother said, holding Nancy tighter. “I’m sure my husband and daughter wouldn’t hear of such a thing. As a matter of fact, Nancy, now you have a double mystery to solve. You must first find the parchment and then tell us its meaning.”

 

 

 

FOR a while Nancy and Mrs. Flockhart wondered who the parchment thief might have been.

“Have you any ideas at all?” the woman asked the girl detective when they came to no conclusion.

“No, not really,” she replied. “Of course I think our first idea would be Mr. Rocco, but the man who was here was too tall.”

“Anyway,” said Mrs. Flockhart, “why should Mr. Rocco feel he had to steal the parchment? All he had to do was come and ask Mr. Flockhart to sell it back to him.”

“That’s true,” Nancy agreed. “But I think Mr. Rocco became worried after I quizzed him about the pictures. Buying back the parchment might make it too obvious that he wanted it, so he had someone take it.”

“That’s good reasoning,” Mrs. Flockhart said. “On the other hand, a person who knows the true story of the parchment may have stolen it, and will do some blackmailing.”

At this moment Mr. Flockhart and Junie walked in with a State Policeman. They all sat down together in the living room.

“Any luck?” Mrs. Flockhart asked her husband.

He shook his head, then introduced the State Policeman, Officer Browning. Mr. Flockhart said that his chase and that of the police and the many workers on Triple Creek Farm had yielded no sign of the fugitive.

“It is unfortunate,” the officer said. “We’ll have to hunt for clues.”

Nancy produced the glove she had torn from the thief’s hand and gave it to the officer. “I grabbed this from the burglar’s left hand,” she explained.

“This is an excellent clue,” Browning said. When he was told by Junie that Nancy was an amateur detective, he asked her, “What is your guess as to the kind of glove it is?”

The young sleuth was flattered and not a bit dismayed. She replied, “It’s not a workman’s glove. Therefore, I doubt that it belongs either to a sheepherder or to a farmer of any kind.”

Officer Browning nodded. “You’re right. This could mean that the thief is a professional burglar who is not native to these parts. He may even be from the city.”