The animal, angered, tried again and again to throw the girl off, but she kept her grip on the horns, and braced herself against his body. Nancy swung crazily from side to side but did not lose her hold, as the animal endeavored desperately to shake her off.
After one more try, the ram stood still. Was he exhausted or defeated? No matter what the answer was, Nancy regained her balance and stood up, but kept a wary eye on the unfriendly animal.
Junie came running up. “What a dreadful experience!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Nancy, I’m so sorry.”
The ram, though mean, knew Junie and made no attempt to attack her. She gave him a resounding slap and sent him galloping off.
The girls had counted on their luck too soon. The ram had not gone far when he suddenly turned around and made a beeline for the girls, horns lowered. At the same moment a loud commanding voice came to their ears.
“Eezy is using his giant megaphone!” Junie said. “He’s chastising the ram.”
The command lasted for a few seconds, then the insistent animal started moving forward again. At once the strains of beautiful music could be heard. Nancy looked at Junie, puzzled.
“Eezy plays an Irish harp to calm the sheep,” her friend explained. “It has never failed yet to halt fights.”
This time was no exception. The ram stopped short, sniffed the air, then lay down. All the other sheep on the hillside that were not already resting slowly dropped to the grass.
“That’s remarkable!” Nancy exclaimed. “I’d like to go back and thank Eezy. In a way he saved my life.”
“All right,” Junie agreed. “I’m sure we’ll have no more trouble with that ram. No doubt by this time he knows that you and I and Eezy are friends.”
When the girls reached the shepherd’s cabin, they found him seated outdoors, strumming his harp. As soon as he finished the number, Nancy complimented him on his playing. “You’re like David in the Bible,” she said.
The elderly man smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “You know it says in the book of Amos, ‘Chant to the sound of the harp, and invent to themselves instruments of music, like David.’” [4]
The girls nodded and Nancy said, “Your small Irish harp is a good tuneful substitute for David’s lyre.”
“That’s what I decided,” Eezy replied. “And to tell the truth, I think I can get a lot more music out of it than David did out of his lyre!” He chuckled.
Nancy thanked him for helping her ward off a second attack by the ram. She begged for an encore of his harp playing. The shepherd obliged, then put down his instrument.
He picked up his megaphone and called out, “Rest period is over, boys and girls. Stand up and get to work!” He winked at the girls. “The sheep’s only work is to eat grass!”
Nancy unexpectedly asked Eezy if he had a pad and pencil in the cabin. The shepherd went to get them, and at once Nancy started sketching. In a few minutes she drew three streams with a woolly sheep superimposed over them. Under the sketch Nancy printed TRIPLE CREEK FARM.
“How do you like that as a trademark?” she asked.
“It’s great,” Junie replied.
“Mighty good work,” Eezy added. “And it’s real picturesque.”
Nancy said she hoped Mr. Flockhart would like it. She folded the paper and put it into her pocket. Then she and Junie said good-by to the shepherd and walked down the hill toward the car.
As it carried them toward Triple Creek, Nancy asked, “Junie, do you know anyone around here who speaks Italian?”
Junie said she knew no one in the immediate vicinity, but that her boyfriend, Dan White, was studying Italian at a nearby university. “Why do you ask?”
Nancy replied, “Would he be willing to come here and secretly talk with some of Mr. Rocco’s farm workers?”
Junie laughed. “There goes that detective mind of yours again,” she said. “I’m sure Dan would love the assignment. I’ll try to get him on the phone as soon as we reach home.”
Fortunately Dan was in his room, studying. When Junie gave him the message, he expressed surprise. “If you think I can speak the language well enough, I’ll be over. I’d certainly like to try acting as interpreter.”
It was arranged that he would arrive the next morning around ten o’clock, since he had no classes at that time. Nancy liked him. The tall, red-haired young man was intelligent looking and had a great sense of humor. He was intrigued to hear that Nancy was a girl detective.
“Junie didn’t mention this to me,” he said. “I’ll never be able to match you in tracking down clues.”
Nancy grinned. “You won’t find that hard.”
Dan asked for instructions on the part he was to play. Nancy started by telling him they were becoming more suspicious each day of Mr. Rocco, who seemed to be carrying out some wicked scheme in the area and mistreating the little boy he said was his nephew. “Besides, we’re sure that the parchment hanging over the mantel, which Mr. Flockhart bought from Mr. Rocco, holds some special significance. If we could discover the meaning of it, we might solve a couple of mysteries.”
Dan asked, “What makes you suspicious of Mr. Rocco?”
Junie told him about the insolent men who had talked to Mrs. Potter at the store; how Eezy was attacked by two strangers who, they suspected, were henchmen of Rocco’s; of his reported cruelty to little Tony; and about his unwillingness to permit visitors onto his grounds or into his home.
“Sounds complicated to me,” Dan said. “But if I can do anything to help unravel the mystery, I’ll be at your service. Shall we go to the Rocco farm at once?”
“Oh yes,” Nancy replied. “All right with you, Junie?”
“You bet.”
The three set off. Junie took a route that led them through the small nearby village. She pointed out the general store and said, “That’s one of our clues!”
Nancy told Dan that she thought clue number two was about four miles away. When they reached the area, Junie turned down a side road.
“I think it best if we are not seen near the gate or the Rocco house,” she said. “I’ll park down here, under some trees, and we’ll walk across the fields until we locate the workmen.”
As they started off, hoping to find the Italian laborers, Dan and the girls found most of the terrain hilly. It was a long trek before they saw the first workman. The three detectives walked up to him. Dan smiled and said good morning in English, but the man did not reply, nor even smile. Were these Rocco’s orders?
“Try it in Italian,” Junie urged Dan.
He did so, but the man shook his head. Puzzled, Dan said a few more things to him. Finally the laborer answered but hopelessly Dan threw up his hands. “This man speaks one of the dialects used in Italy, but he doesn’t understand my college Italian, and I don’t understand his regional Italian.”
The three visitors said good-by, although they knew the listener did not understand them, and went on.
Nancy said, “I see another man way over at the end of this field.”
The three trekkers headed in that direction. After a long walk in the hot sun, they reached the farmer’s side. Once more Dan tried his college Italian. All he received in reply was a blank stare.
“This is maddening,” Junie burst out.
The workman went on with his hoeing. In a last desperate attempt to get some information, Dan said several things to him in the Italian he knew. The laborer merely shook his head.
“I guess we’ll have to give up,” Dan said. “I’m terribly sorry.”
“Let’s make one more try,” Nancy suggested. “It’s possible these men are under orders from Rocco not to talk.”
“There’s no one else in sight,” Junie Flockhart pointed out.
“That’s true,” Nancy replied, “but how about little Tony?”
Both Dan and Junie felt they had nothing to lose by trying, so the three set off across the field. It was a long walk to where the little boy was at work. This time he was busy with a hoe. His drawing pad and pencils were not in sight.
As the visitors arrived, Tony politely stopped working and bowed. At once Dan said to him in his college Italian, “Good morning!”
Tony replied, a great smile breaking over his face. Then, as he and Dan talked, Junie’s friend translated. “Tony says he is an orphan and that Mr. Rocco is his uncle, but that he has to work very hard and has no chance to play.
“Tony tells me he loves to draw but has to do this on the sly. After you girls were here the other day, his uncle caught him and tore up a drawing pad one of the men had given him secretly. Rocco even burned the pencils.”
Nancy was furious. There was no doubt that the boy had great talent. It was shameful that the tools for his art should have been destroyed!
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!”
CHAPTER IX
Midnight Thief
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.
“Leave that alone!” Nancy 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.”
CHAPTER X
Running Footprints
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.”
Junie spoke. “Then it may be very difficult to find him,” she said. “Like looking for a raindrop in a pond.”
“Not necessarily,” the officer told her. “The man could have been hired to do this job and may still be in the neighborhood, delivering it.”
He told the others that he would take the glove to the police laboratory and have it thoroughly examined.
Nancy asked, “Can you find clear fingerprints inside the glove?”
The officer shook his head. “No, because the material is textured and porous. But we may get some clue from the glove.”
He asked if anyone had touched the front door since the burglar had had his bare hand on it. No one had, so Browning said he would get a fingerprint kit from his car and try to take impressions of the newest set of fingerprints.
Although Nancy had watched fingerprint work by police many times, she never tired of looking at the process. But presently she walked outside. Her eyes picked up a clear imprint of half a shoe. Nancy hurried over to look at it, crouched down, and studied the print intently. Then she got up and looked for another. Using her flashlight, she discovered a series of similar ones for left and right feet in turn. They led across a field to a road. Here the prints ended, and Nancy assumed from tracks in the pavement dust that the thief had gone off in a car.
Nancy quickly returned to the house. By this time the officer had finished his fingerprint work. She asked him to come over and look at the shoe marks. Nancy told him she believed they belonged to the burglar.
“Since they are only of the front half of each foot, they were made by someone running.”
Officer Browning nodded. “You’re absolutely right, Miss Detective. Now tell me, what kind of shoes was the man wearing?”
“Sneakers,” Nancy responded promptly.
The State Policeman shook his head. “You sure know your stuff.” he said, “I won’t tease you any more. I’ll just continue to ask your help.”
Junie, who had been indoors, heard the last few remarks and at once told the officer that Nancy Drew had a fine reputation for solving the most difficult mysteries imaginable.
“Oh, stop bragging about me,” Nancy pleaded with her friend. She explained to the officer, “I came here to find the meaning of four paintings on the parchment that was stolen, and now it’s gone. I’ve botched the case.”
Junie said, “Officer Browning, Nancy says she might go home because she hasn’t solved the mystery. Can’t you do something to make her stay?”
The husky-looking man smiled. “I tell you what, Nancy. Suppose I find the parchment for you; then you can keep the job of solving the mystery of the paintings.”
At once Nancy’s old eagerness to win the case returned. She said, “I wish you the best of luck and try to make it soon. I can’t stay here much longer; I will wear out my welcome!”
The officer got a camera and took pictures of the footprints. Finally he stepped into his car and drove off.
Junie turned to Nancy. “Maybe, just maybe,” she said, as she locked arms with her friend and went into the house, “maybe you’ll solve both parts of this mystery yourself before the police do!”
Before the girl detective could reply, Mr. Flockhart ordered everyone back to bed. He put out the lights and followed the others upstairs.
Nancy was up early the next day, hunting for further clues to the intruder. First she searched the living room, dining room, and kitchen thoroughly. She could find nothing to indicate how the burglar had gained admittance to the house. She felt he must be a professional with a master key.
Next Nancy went outdoors and again looked at the running footsteps. Satisfied that this was the only clue outside the house, she returned indoors. The Flockharts were there and they all sat down to breakfast.
Nancy had nearly finished eating, when suddenly she said, “Oh!”
“What’s the matter, dear?” Mrs. Flockhart asked.
Nancy said she had just remembered that Mr. Vincenzo Caspari was coming to look at the parchment. “And the parchment is not here!”
Junie suggested that Nancy go at once to call the man so he would not make the trip in vain. Nancy hurried to the phone and dialed the artist’s number. A woman answered. When Nancy asked for Mr. Caspari, she was told that he had already left. The young detective, worried, came back to report this to the others at the table.
“That’s too bad,” Mrs. Flockhart said. “What will you do?”
Nancy thought a moment, then said, “I’ll try to make a sketch of the paintings on the parchment as nearly as I remember them. You can help. I’ll recite what I know and you add to it.”
She described the first picture of a beautiful woman. “I hope I can make her look as much like the original as possible.”
Junie spoke up, saying the woman had shiny coal-black hair, large brown eyes with long lashes, a rosebud-shaped mouth, and a lovely olive complexion.
“That’s absolutely right,” Nancy agreed. “Besides, she had a sad smile.”
The others nodded and she went on to mention the man with his back to the viewer, the cluster of angels with one of them holding a baby, and the collision of a sailboat and a steamer.
Mr. Flockhart laughed. “You don’t need our help,” he said. “Now scoot upstairs and draw the pictures before your guest comes.”
“But what if I don’t finish them in time?” Nancy replied, worried.
“Don’t get so uptight. Just relax,” Junie said. “If he arrives while you’re upstairs, Dad and I will talk to him.”
Nancy darted to the stairs, then stopped. “I don’t have any paper or colored pencils with me.”
Without saying a word, her friend left briefly and returned with a large, unlined pad and a box of crayons. “Sorry I can’t supply pencils.”
“Thanks,” Nancy said, then hastened to her room. She took a deep sigh as she stared at the blank sheet before her. Then, as if the images on the parchment had suddenly flooded her memory, she began to draw them.
In about twenty minutes she had finished rough sketches of the four paintings. Then, on the back of the one with the baby in it, she printed an A. In the lower lefthand corner of the sheet she put in the initials DB and under it the word Milano.
Nancy had just finished when she heard a car drive in. She looked out the window to be sure that the person arriving was Mr. Caspari.
The man who alighted was in his forties and was alone. Was he the great Vincenzo Caspari?
Before Nancy could decide, she noticed something that horrified her. The man’s car had begun to roll slowly. If it kept going it would crash into a tree!
CHAPTER XI
A Tough Suspect
TAKING two steps at a time, Nancy leaped down the stairway of the Flockhart farmhouse and raced out the front door. Could she stop the rolling car before it crashed into the tree?
The owner, who seemed to be unaware of what was happening, was walking toward the house. Nancy passed him in a flash. He turned to find out why she was in such a hurry, then gasped at what he saw.
Fortunately, his big car was rolling slowly. It had not yet gathered momentum. Nancy was able to yank the front door open, jump in, and jam on the brake. The automobile stopped within an inch of the tree.
“Oh thank you, thank you!” the man exclaimed, catching up to the car. “I am so sorry to have caused you all this trouble.” He spoke with an Italian accent.
“I’m glad I saw the car moving,” Nancy said. “By any chance, are you Mr. Caspari?”
“Si, si,” the middle-aged man replied, bowing slightly. “And you are Miss Nancy Drew?”
“Yes, I am,” she answered, stepping from the car, with his assistance. The two walked toward the open front door of the farmhouse.
The artist was a charming person, but by his own admission, a bit forgetful. “I should have remembered to put on the brake,” he said.
Nancy merely smiled and made no comment. She led her visitor into the living room and they sat down.
“I tried to reach you on the phone this morning, but was told you had already left your house,” she said. “I have a horrible confession to make to you.”
“Confession?” Mr. Caspari repeated. “You do not seem like the kind of girl who would have to make confessions.”
Nancy made no response to this. “I’ll get right to the point,” she said. “The parchment that I asked you to come and look at was stolen last night!”
“Stolen?” he repeated. “From this house?”
“From right above that fireplace mantel,” Nancy explained.
She told him the whole story, then said that she had attempted to draw something that looked like the original. “I’ll show it to you. Perhaps you can give us a clue to the painter of the original.”
She excused herself and went upstairs to get the drawing. After she came down and handed it to the artist, he studied the front of the paper for a long time. He even turned it upside down, but quickly put it back into position.
Finally he looked up and said to Nancy, “Did you draw this from memory?” When she said yes, he went on, “It is an excellent drawing, especially the picture of the angels with the baby.”
Nancy thanked him and said, “Maybe that’s because I think it may be the most significant picture in the group. I’ll show you why I think so.” She turned the paper over and pointed out that the printed A on it was directly behind the pic ture of the angels. “This is just the way it was on the original.”
The artist rubbed his chin. “And none of the other pictures had initials in back of them?”
“No.”
Mr. Caspari told Nancy, “I think you are very observing, as an artist should be. Now please tell me what your theory is.”
“My guess is that the A stands for Anthony. We met a boy who is an artist. He is the nephew of the man who sold the parchment to Mr. Flockhart,” she explained. “It may be a long and wild guess, but I am wondering if by any chance that boy could be this baby. His nickname is Tony.”
The artist wanted to know if Nancy had ever questioned the former owner about the picture. She nodded. “I tried to, but didn’t get very far. He is very secretive and uncooperative. By the way, do you know him—Salvatore Rocco?”
“No. I never heard of him. Tell me more about the boy.”
Nancy explained the situation, and ended by saying that Mr. Rocco had said he knew nothing about the origin of the parchment. He had purchased it at an auction.
“It is an interesting story,” Mr. Caspari remarked. “There’s a chance, of course, that his story isn’t true.”
Just then he spotted the initials DB in the corner with the word Milano under them.
“Have you any ideas about what these initials stand for?” he asked Nancy.
“No, I haven’t.”
Mr. Caspari said that on this point he might be able to help her out. I brought with me a directory of European artists.” He took it from a pocket and began turning the pages. ”I’ll look under the section for Italy and see if we can find a DB in Milano.”
Nancy sat watching quietly as the man flipped page after page.
Finally he said, “No one with those initials is listed in Milano, but I see three in Rome. Their addresses are here. Do you want them?”
“Yes. I would like to have them, but does it say anything about the people?”
The artist told her that two of them were men and one a woman. Nancy was thoughtful for several seconds, then remarked, “Another one of my hunches—I have a feeling, because of the style of the painting of the angels and the baby, that the artist may be a woman.”
“That’s a good deduction,” her caller said.
“Mr. Caspari,” Nancy continued, “do you think that this Miss or Mrs. DB could have studied in Milano and painted on the parchment when she was there?”
“That’s very likely,” he agreed.
Reading from his directory, the artist said that the woman’s name was Diana Bolardo. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “I have the perfect solution!” he exclaimed. “My grandparents live in Rome.”
Vincenzo Caspari offered to get in touch with them at once. “I’ll phone and ask them to try to find Diana Bolardo.”
Nancy was thrilled. How she wished she might go to Rome and investigate herself! She realized, however, that this would be expensive and the clue might lead to a dead end.
“I appreciate this great favor,” Nancy told the artist, “and I can hardly wait to hear the answer.”
The man smiled. “To tell you the truth, I’m excited to be part of the team trying to solve this mystery.”
After Mr. Caspari had left, Junie came in to catch up on the news. After telling her, Nancy said, “Junie, would you drive downtown with me?”
“Of course. But why?”
Nancy told her she thought the person who had smashed the glass in the frame of the parchment picture might have brought the frame to a shop to have the glass replaced. “Or else, he might just have taken the measurements and will put the glass in himself. Let’s go first to a hardware shop.”
Junie said there were three in town. They would go directly to the best one.
Nancy tried to explain to a salesman what she was trying to find out. He said no one had brought a broken picture in for him to fix, or bought a twelve by twenty inch piece of glass.
Not discouraged, the girls went outside and Junie drove to the next hardware store. As they walked in, Nancy thought this was a likely place for the thief to have brought the parchment picture. One half of the store was devoted to hardware, the other half to pictures and picture framing.
A pleasant woman listened to Nancy’s story, but shook her head. No one had brought in any pictures that morning to have new glass put in, and no one had bought a piece of glass to use himself.
“Thank you very much,” Nancy said, and the girls walked out.
“There is one place left,” Junie said. “It’s not very attractive and it’s in a shabby part of town, but I believe it’s just the kind of place that a thief might go to.”
She drove a few blocks until she came to an older section of town. Finally she parked in front of what had once been a house and was now a store. A gaudy sign in the window read: IF YOU CAN’T FIND IT HERE, YOU CAN’T FIND IT ANYWHERE. The two shoppers smiled.
Nancy remarked, “That’s a pretty broad claim. I wonder if the owner can live up to it!”
Junie giggled. “If he can, your quest is over.”
The interior of the shop was untidy and badly in need of dusting. A middle-aged man came from the rear room, slid behind the counter, and asked what the girls wanted.
Nancy noted that he eyed them up and down, as if he were asking the question, “What are girls like you doing in this part of town?”
Nancy made her request. At first the proprietor shook his head, saying no one had brought in a picture that morning. Then suddenly he added, “Oh, I forgot. A young fellow from town was in to buy some glass.”
“What size was it?” Nancy asked quickly.
The man looked at a piece of wrapping paper lying on the counter not far from his telephone. On it was scribbled 12 X 20 inches. He repeated this to the girls.
“That’s just the size we’re interested in!” Nancy said. “Who was this young man?”
The proprietor said he did not know, and Nancy wondered whether he was telling the truth or covering up for the thief. Acting as if she believed him, she asked, “What did he look like?”
“Oh, he was of medium height and kind of tough looking. I did notice one thing about him, though. His right hand had been bandaged as if he’d cut it. I asked him about it. He told me he had injured his hand on some broken glass that he wanted to replace.”
Nancy and Junie were exuberant. They were sure they had tracked down the thief! But the question was, where was he?
“You say you don’t know him?” Nancy asked the owner again.
The man shook his head. “I’ve seen him hanging around town with some other tough guys, but I don’t know who he is. In fact, I don’t want to know who he is.”
The girls felt that the least they could do for all this information was to buy a few articles from the shop. Junie selected a small hammer, an awl, and a package of assorted nails. Nancy found a new type of lawn sprinkler and purchased it to take home to her father. As soon as the articles had been wrapped and paid for, she and Junie left the store.
As they got into the car, Junie teased Nancy. “Now I suppose you will ask me to drive around to where the tough guys hang out!”
Nancy smiled and said, “You’re wrong this time. Take me to a drugstore in this neighborhood.”
She explained that she wanted to find out where the young man with the cut hand bought the bandage he was wearing.
“It’s a long chance, I know,” she added, “but, Junie, a good detective tracks down every possible little clue.”
Junie said she was beginning to see that. “It amazes me how much trouble you have to go to for one itsy-bitsy clue.”
The girls went into the drugstore and approached the counter where first-aid accessories were sold. A pleasant woman waited on them. Nancy asked her if a young man had been in that morning to purchase a fresh bandage for a cut hand.
She was elated when the woman said, “Yes, there was. He was in early. Said he had been in a car accident but didn’t have to go to a doctor. He could bandage his own hand.”
“Do you know who he is?” Nancy asked hopefully.
“Of course I do. He comes in here a lot. His name is Sid Zikes. I’m surprised that girls like you would be interested in trying to find out about him.”
Nancy thought it best not to explain her reason. She merely asked where he lived. This time she received an “I don’t know” for an answer.
“But I understand he doesn’t have a very good reputation,” the woman said. “If you aren’t aware of that, I think it’s my duty to warn you to stay away from him.”
“Thank you for the advice,” Nancy said, smiling. “Why does he have a bad reputation?”
The woman said she had been told that upon several occasions when there had been a theft in town, young Sid Zikes had suddenly disappeared. “But the funny thing is that after a while he comes back and nothing ever happens to him. I guess he has been suspected many times but never arrested.”
Nancy asked the woman if Sid Zikes ever wore gloves. She said she did not know. “But it wouldn’t surprise me. Sid, in his own flashy way, can be quite a dude.”
Both girls thanked the woman for her helpful information. Then they bought some powder and perfume. Nancy decided that hers would go to Hannah Gruen.
A few minutes later, as the young detectives were driving off, Nancy said, “Junie, I think we should report our suspicions to Officer Browning. Let’s stop at State Police headquarters and tell him or at least leave a message for him.” He was not there, so Nancy wrote a note to the absent officer.
When she and Junie finally reached home, Mrs. Flockhart met them. After she had kissed the two girls, she said, “Nancy, you are to call home at once. Your father phoned and said he has some very special news for you!”
CHAPTER XII
Telltale Glove
WHEN Mr. Drew answered the phone, he asked how Nancy was, and how she was progressing with the mystery. Hearing that she was very enthusiastic about her work, he added, “Hannah Gruen and I are both very busy and we keep well, but I must say we miss you very much.”
He now began to tell her about his interview with the United States Immigration Department. He said they had made a thorough search and could not find a Salvatore Rocco who had come into the United States from Italy about ten years before, with or without the baby he claimed was his nephew. The lawyer said he was sorry he did not have better news for his daughter.
“Oh, I’m not discouraged,” Nancy assured him quickly. “I assume that Mr. Rocco either sneaked into the country with the baby, or came here under an assumed name.”
“No doubt you’re right,” her father agreed, “and it would be almost hopeless to track down this man under such circumstances. But let me know if you get any more clues I can help with,” he added.
Nancy now brought him up-to-date on the mystery and ended by telling him about Diana Bolardo. “Do you think it would be a good idea to find out if anyone by that name entered this country either to stay or to visit during the past ten years?”
The lawyer thought it was a good idea. “However, if the woman is living in Rome, it won’t be necessary.”
Nancy said she would let her father know the instant Mr. Caspari told her what his grandparents had found out.
“And now,” Mr. Drew said, “I have a surprise for you. The police caught the girl who stole your jacket.”
“Really? How wonderful! What did she say?”
The lawyer reported that the girl had noticed Junie carrying the coat in a see-through bag and felt she had to have it. She followed Junie from the station, found the Drews’ door open and tiptoed in. “Her case comes up in two weeks. I guess you’ll have to testify against her. Incidentally, she’s a known petty thief and hitchhiker. She wasn’t acquainted with the man in whose car you saw her.”
“Too bad,” Nancy said with a sigh.
By the time she had finished her call, Junie had gone outdoors to visit the barn where the newborn lambs were kept. As Nancy sat thinking about the case and what to do next, Mr. Flockhart came in.
“Why so pensive?” he teased. “Did the phone call upset you?”
Nancy told him about the conversation, and then changed the subject. “I was thinking about something else. Would it be possible for me to obtain a piece of parchment the size of the one that was stolen? I’d like to try painting on it to see how close I can come to imitating the four original paintings.”
The owner of Triple Creek Farm said he would be glad to let Nancy have a piece of his finest parchment. With a twinkle in his eyes he added, “If you make a really good duplicate of the stolen picture, I’ll have it framed and hang it up!”
Nancy grinned. “I don’t expect to do anything so wonderful as the original artist did, but I’d like to try. It’s just possible it might help us solve the mystery.”
Mr. Flockhart said he would take her to the factory at once and choose exactly the right piece. He escorted her outside to his car and they drove off. Since Nancy had never tried painting on parchment, she did not know what to choose, but Mr. Flockhart showed her the different grades of parchment and told her which was the best variety for what she wanted to do.
Nancy thanked him and said she could hardly wait to get started on the painting. She had expected to return home at once, but Mr. Flockhart wanted to speak to Eezy, so they rode back to the house the longer way.
He parked the car where Junie had on previous occasions and walked up the hillside with Nancy. Eezy greeted them with a big grin. The shepherd did not wait to hear any message that might be brought to him.
At once he said, “Howdy, boss! Howdy, Nancy Drew!” Then as he picked up his Irish harp, he quoted from the Bible, “ ‘Now I can make a joyful noise unto the Lord.”’ [5]
At once he began to accompany himself in a song telling about a lamb that had wandered far from home. Finally though, the little sheep had become so lonesome he could not stand it and turned around and went back. Eventually he rejoined his flock and the ditty ended with a series of baas in various pitches.
Nancy and Mr. Flockhart laughed and clapped appreciatively. Nancy now went to pat her favorite lamb, who nudged her affectionately. She noticed that he was growing stronger daily. She had to brace herself to avoid being shoved over.
In a few minutes Mr. Flockhart finished talking with his herdsman and called to Nancy that he was ready to leave.
“What’s the rush?” Eezy asked. “I got somethin’ in the cabin I want to show Nancy.”
He disappeared inside his shack but soon returned, holding up a glove. The girl detective was amazed. The glove looked exactly like the one she had torn from the hand of the thief who had stolen the parchment painting.
Excited, she asked Eezy, “Where did you get this?”
As the shepherd slipped the glove onto one hand, he said, “You know, this fits perfectly. Rover brought it to me. You’re a good detective, Nancy. Do you think you could find me the mate to this?” He began to sing loudly.
Before the callers could answer the question, one of the nearby sheep, apparently unused to his singing, gave a loud baa, which made everyone laugh.
It was Nancy’s turn to surprise the shepherd. “I think maybe I know where the mate to this glove is. If I’m right, I’ll tell you.”
Eezy wagged his head from side to side. “You’re the most amazing girl I ever met! You take this glove and see if it matches the one you know about.”
Nancy now changed the subject and asked Eezy if the two men who had attacked him had ever returned. “I was afraid they might attempt to attack you again.”
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” the shepherd said emphatically. “I’m keeping that mean ram penned up behind my cabin. If there is any disturbance around here, I’ll just turn the old fellow loose on anybody who bothers me!”
“That’s a good idea,” Mr. Flockhart said.
Nancy was thinking of the walkie-talkie that she and Junie had brought to the shepherd. Apparently he thought the ram would be a quicker and more effective means of warding off an attack!
“And after what happened to me,” she thought, “I guess he’s right!”
In the meantime Eezy had picked up his harp and began playing a pretty little tune on it. He finished in a few minutes, then Nancy and Mr. Flockhart said good-by and trudged down the hill. When they got into the car, he drove at once to State Police headquarters and turned over the glove Rover had brought to Eezy.
Officer Browning was there and was thunder-struck to see Nancy holding the matching glove.
“There is no question but that this is the mate,” he said. “Where did you find it?”
Nancy told him how Rover had picked it up on the Triple Creek property and brought the glove to his master, Eezy.
“I have a strong feeling,” Nancy said, “that the thief wanted to get rid of the mate of the telltale glove. He deliberately planted it on Mr. Flockhart’s farm to throw suspicion on Eezy or some of the other shepherds or helpers. What do you think, Officer Browning?”
“That you have made a reasonable deduction,” he said. “Of course it would be hard to prove, but we may get some other evidence to support your theory.”
Mr. Flockhart spoke. “It didn’t do that thief a bit of good to try making any of my men look guilty. I trust every one of them, and I am sure all are innocent of any wrongdoing.”
The officer nodded. “I would certainly take your word against any other person’s,” he said. “The police are convinced that the intruder in your home was a stranger, and the theft of the parchment picture was an outside job. Don’t worry, there will never be any charge against your men, I’m sure.”
After a little more conversation about the mystery, the phone rang, so the visitors stood up to leave.
“Don’t go yet,” Browning said. “I’ve been expecting a call. I think it may be of great interest to you.”
Nancy and Mr. Flockhart stood still while the officer answered the phone. He said, “Very good. Bring him in here. I have two visitors who would be glad to see him.”
The officer put down his phone, but gave no explanation of the conversation. Nancy and Mr. Flockhart looked at each other, puzzled.
A full minute went by, then the door opened. Two policemen walked in with a handcuffed prisoner. A sullen-looking youth glanced at the visitors, then his eyes dropped.
Officer Browning said, “Mr. Flockhart, Miss Nancy Drew, I want you to meet Sid Zikes!”
CHAPTER XIII
A Paint Disaster
Sid Zikes! The young man they had been trying to find! His right hand was still bandaged.
Officer Browning said, “Sid is being charged with petty larceny and will be booked on that count.”
Sid Zikes spoke up. “I got a right to bail!”
He was told that this was a judge’s decision and he would have to remain behind bars until the amount was decided upon.
The prisoner’s eyes roamed from one person to another in the room. Finally they rested on Nancy. The girl detective felt uncomfortable. Was he blaming her for his arrest?
Officer Browning asked Nancy and Mr. Flockhart if they would like to question the prisoner. The sheep-farm owner said he would defer to Nancy. “She knows better than I do what to ask.”
Addressing Sid Zikes, the girl detective began. “Why did you steal the parchment picture from Mr. Flockhart’s home?”
Sid looked at the floor and replied, “I didn’t.”
Nancy told him that she knew he had purchased a new piece of glass exactly the right size to replace the one that had been smashed when he had thrown the picture. The young man made no comment, and looked out a window.
Nancy decided to change her line of questioning. She said, “Did you threaten the shepherd Eezy and knock him out?”
The prisoner shouted, “No!”
“When you went up the hillside to his cabin, who was the person with you? A buddy or a stranger?”
Sid Zikes said definitely, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t have to listen to this kind of questioning. Officer, take me away. But I warn every one of you, I won’t be in jail long! I’ll prove my innocence!”
As Mr. Flockhart and Nancy left State Police headquarters, he said to her, “Do you think Sid Zikes is guilty?”
Nancy replied that she was sure he was the burglar who had taken the parchment picture. “He was about the size and build of the person I caught a glimpse of in your house. But I think it may be true that he had nothing to do with the attack on Eezy.”
Mr. Flockhart was inclined to agree. “But I doubt that Sid Zikes wanted the picture for himself. I believe he was paid by somebody to sneak in and get it.”
Nancy asked the Triple Creek owner if he had any guesses about who that person might be. Mr. Flockhart shook his head. “Unfortunately I understand there is a gang in town that will do such jobs for people who would not think of committing the act themselves. So far the police haven’t been able to apprehend them.”
Nancy remarked, “The person who puts any one up to stealing to gain something for himself is even worse than the thief, don’t you think?”
“I agree,” Mr. Flockhart said.
He and Nancy went to his car and drove off. She asked him if he would mind going into town so she could purchase some fine colored pencils to make sketches on the parchment.
“I’ll be glad to,” he said, “but don’t ask my advice on the best colors. The truth is, I’m color-blind.”
“That’s too bad,” Nancy said.
The farmer laughed. “It doesn’t bother me. So far all my customers who plan to paint on parchment seem to know everything about colors.”
After the purchases had been made, Nancy and Mr. Flockhart rode home. He dropped her at the front door of the house, then drove off to his factory.
Junie and her mother were there and were amazed to hear the story of Sid Zikes’s capture and imprisonment.
“I’d say the police are very efficient,” Mrs. Flockhart remarked.
Junie spoke up. “But Nancy had some excellent information to give them.”
Nancy brushed aside the compliment and asked where she might work on the parchment. “I’m eager to get started,” she said.
Junie’s mother said she knew the perfect spot. “At the rear of the garden behind the farmhouse there’s a lovely summer house. It’s an attractive little place. I think you’ll like the nice, shady spot. It’s quiet and nobody will disturb you.”
Junie offered to get an easel from the attic and bring it downstairs. The two girls walked out to the summer house and set up the easel. Nancy got out her colored pencils. Next she stretched the parchment across a frame and pinned it tightly. Then she set it on the easel and said, “I guess I’m ready to start.”
Junie watched as her friend meticulously began her work.
The girl artist thought, “I’ll do the hardest thing first. That will be the sketch of the beautiful young woman.”
She closed her eyes for several seconds, so that she might recall the original picture exactly. Finally she opened them and began to paint.
Junie watched Nancy for several minutes, fascinated, then said she must do her own chores. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” she told Nancy.
The young sleuth worked diligently for some time. Secretly she was pleased with the result of her work. “It really does look like the original,” she thought.
Nancy had told no one, but what she had in mind was making a parchment picture resembling the original so closely that Mr. Flockhart would indeed want to hang it over the fireplace in the living room.
She smiled to herself. “Maybe I have nerve even to try to do this, but I’ll attempt it anyway.”
By the time Junie returned, Nancy had almost completed the entire group of pictures. She was working on the sketch of the collision between the sailing ship and the steamer.
Junie was astounded. “Nancy, that’s simply marvelous!” she exclaimed.
The words were hardly out of her mouth when the girls became aware of something sailing through the air behind them. The next instant their heads and the parchment were covered with paint!
The girls’ heads were covered with paint!
Nancy and Junie had turned quickly. They were just in time to see two shadowy figures throw down cans of paint and run away. All thought of trying to follow the two men vanished from the girls’ minds. The paint was running down from their hair, and they did not dare let it get into their eyes.
Both of them picked up pieces of cloth, which Nancy had handy to use for her work. They wiped off their spattered faces as best they could and then tried to remove the paint from their hair. In seconds they had used up all the available cloths and decided they had better hurry into the house to finish the job.
Nancy paused a moment, however, to look at the parchment. It was ruined! She was on the verge of tears as she picked up the parchment and colored pencils, and followed Junie to the house.
Mrs. Flockhart was near the door when the girls rushed in. She cried out, “What in the world happened to you?”
Junie explained and together they opened a kitchen drawer and took out a roll of cheesecloth. Mrs. Flockhart quickly cut it into sections and handed pieces to the girls. While they worked on their hair, she mopped the paint off their clothing.
“We’d better shampoo right away,” Junie advised.
“That won’t get off all the paint,” her mother said. “It has an oil base. What you should use is paint thinner. Wait here while I run out to the garage for some. I know there’s a large can of it there.”
She was gone only a couple of minutes. When she returned, Mrs. Flockhart told the two girls to lean their foreheads against the rim of the sink and let their hair fall inside. Then she poured out the paint thinner, and in a little while the combination of the red and blue splotches had vanished.
“Now go upstairs and take hot showers and shampoos,” she said.
The girls went to the second floor and reappeared an hour later, looking as if nothing had happened to them. Meanwhile Mrs. Flockhart had tried to remove the paint from the parchment, but had found it impossible. The blue and red liquids had mingled with Nancy’s sketches to such an extent that there was no chance of separating them.
“I’m dreadfully sorry this happened,” the distressed woman said. “Did you girls see who threw the paint?”
Nancy replied that they had had a glimpse of two figures, but did not see the intruders clearly enough to identify them.
Suddenly she had an idea. “Junie, do you recall that those men threw down their cans of paint?”
“No, all I remember is wanting to get away from them as fast as possible.”
“Well, it seems to me they did leave those containers behind. Maybe we can find some clue to where they came from—a brand name or some other kind of identification. Let’s look!”
Overhearing Nancy’s comments, Mrs. Flockhart spoke before her daughter could. “Those men could still be on our property. They could be lurking behind the summer house.”
“Oh, Mother,” Junie said, laughing. “They ran off.”
“I know you said that. But if Nancy is right about the paint cans, perhaps they returned for them.” She paused a moment. “No, I would prefer that you remain here.”
The girl detective, however, was not willing to let such a valuable clue slip past her so easily. “Mrs. Flockhart, would you go with us? I’m sure that two men would not want to tackle three women.”
Reluctantly the woman agreed. “All right, but let’s be quick about it.”
Nancy and Junie hurried outdoors with Mrs. Flockhart behind them and headed for the summer house. Not far from it lay the two empty cans.
“These are the Acme brand,” Junie said. “Maybe that will be a clue.”
“I think it’s a good one,” Nancy replied.
She and Junie picked up the two cans and the three went back to the house. At Nancy’s suggestion, Junie telephoned each store in town where paint was sold. The first one did not carry this brand.
Nancy waited expectantly, but as someone in each shop said he did not sell the Acme brand, she became more and more discouraged. Her beautiful clue was coming to nothing!
When Junie finished telephoning, she turned to Nancy. “What’s the next move? I’m determined to find out who threw that paint at us and ruined your picture!”
“I’m just as determined,” Nancy told her. “As you know, Junie, I have never trusted Mr. Rocco from the beginning, and I trust him less now that I know he entered this country under an assumed name or sneaked in. I suggest that we go to his place and look around his barns while avoiding him. Maybe we can find some Acme paint cans.”
Junie looked at her friend in astonishment. “That’s the last thing in the world I thought you would say, but I agree it’s a good idea. I’ll get the car.”
In a short time Junie parked far from the entrance to Rocco’s farm and the two girls walked across the fields toward the barns, which were outside the fenced-in area. They entered one building, which was empty. There were many tools hanging up and shelves on which stood cans of various products, including paint. The girls tiptoed forward to examine them.
“Acme paint!” Nancy whispered. “And, Junie, look! Here is one of blue and one of red in exactly the same shades that were thrown at us.”
“So two of Mr. Rocco’s workers are guilty!” Junie said in a low tone. “Maybe we’d better hurry away and report the incident before we get caught.”
The girls were about to walk outside when they heard voices close by. Two men were speaking in Italian, and they seemed to be arguing.
This went on for a few minutes, then suddenly one of them spoke English. The girls did not recognize the voice that cried out in a snarl, “If they won’t join, they won’t! And don’t ask me to pull any rough stuff to make them do it!”
CHAPTER XIV
Important Information