Nancy’s eyes twinkled. “And have me become one of the chief’s wives?” Then she became serious. She knew that while tribal customs were kept, the men, women and children were becoming more civilized and educated all the time and polygamy was fast becoming a thing of the past.
When the entertainment was over, Nancy and her friends stood up and asked Butubu to thank the chief for the friendly hospitality and to tell him it was an experience they would never forget. The leader grinned broadly and hoped they would all come again—they would always be most welcome.
The visitors returned to the bus and drove back to Nairobi. They discussed the new clue to Tizam and asked Nancy what she intended to do next to solve the mystery about him.
“It’s only a hunch, but I have a strong feeling that he’s still alive and I’m going to work harder than ever to find him.”
“In Mombasa?” Ned asked.
“Probably. Now I can hardly wait to get there.”
She and her friends reached the hotel in time for a very late dinner. As she stopped at the desk to get her key, the clerk said that two men, one older than the other, had called on her that morning.
“They wouldn’t leave their names, but said they were most eager to get in touch with you,” he reported.
“What time were they here?” Nancy asked.
The clerk said he did not remember exactly, but that it was before the rest of the Emerson group had left for Mombasa. “The men seemed very annoyed to learn that you were not here.”
Nancy asked for a description of the two men. It was possible they were Jahan and Dhan! From what little the clerk could remember, however, it was hard to tell.
“One of the men mumbled something about having to wait all day for you to return,” the clerk said. “Oh, I forgot to mention that they’ll be back this evening.”
Deep in thought Nancy walked to the elevator, where her friends were waiting for her. On the way upstairs she told them what she had just learned.
“I don’t like this,” Ned commented. “Nancy, please don’t see those men alone. I’ll stick around and make sure that you’re safe!”
“And I’ll certainly be glad to have you.” Nancy smiled.
It was decided they would not spend much time dressing, as everyone was hungry. Besides, the dining room would soon close. They hurried and met downstairs. The young people had just finished dinner when one of the hotel boys handed Nancy a small silver platter. On it lay a note signed by the desk clerk. It read:
“Messrs. Brown and Ross who came earlier today to see you are waiting in the lobby,”
As Nancy rose from the table, her heart began to beat a little faster at the thought of what might lie ahead of her.
CHAPTER XVI
Swahili Joe
NANCY and Ned hurried into the lobby. The clerk nodded toward two men near the door. They were not Jahan and Dhan, but they definitely were Indians.
“Miss Drew?” one of them said. “I’m Mr. Brown. This is Mr. Ross.”
Nancy introduced Ned Nickerson but the Indians did not put out their hands to shake Ned’s. She quickly sized up the two callers. Her intuition warned her that these men had hard, cruel characters.
“Miss Drew,” said Brown, “we understand that you have a great interest in Mr. Tagore’s spider sapphire.”
“An interest?” Nancy replied. “I have heard it is very beautiful and I think it’s too bad that the gem is missing.”
“Indeed it is,” Mr. Ross agreed. “We would like your honest opinion about the gem we read about on display in the River Heights Museum.”
Both Nancy and Ned were thinking the same thing: Why would these men be interested in a synthetic gem fashioned so many thousands of miles away, unless they were somehow connected with the loss of Mr. Tagore’s property?
“There is little I can tell you,” Nancy said. “My father personally knows the man who created the gem in the museum. It is synthetic. I have been told that Mr. Tagore’s gem was formed by nature millions of years ago.”
There was a slight lull in the conversation while Brown and Ross seemed to be trying to decide what to say next.
Ned broke the silence. “How did you men learn about Mr. Ramsey’s gem?”
Ross answered, “From the newspaper.”
“But what is your interest in it?”
Ross’s eyes snapped. “What’s yours?”
Ned did not reply. Instead he turned to Nancy and said, “Come on! Let’s go!”
Nancy hesitated. Looking directly at the two Indians, who, she felt sure, were using assumed names, she asked, “Where is Swahili Joe now?”
Ross was taken off guard. Before realizing it, he replied, “In Mom—” Then he stopped short.
A frightened look came over Mr. Brown’s face. Tugging at Ross’s sleeve, he urged him to leave. The two men dashed from the hotel.
For a second Nancy and Ned stood looking after them. Then suddenly Ned turned and hurried toward Bess, George, Burt, and Dave, who had just reached the lobby. He said excitedly, “Come on, fellows!”
“What’s up?” Burt queried.
“Tell you later,” Ned replied, and ran from the hotel. The other two boys were right behind him.
Nancy knew what Ned had in mind. He wanted to overtake Brown and Ross and find out the real reason for their coming to see Nancy. The thought worried the young detective and she called out:
“Don’t go!”
But Ned and his fraternity brothers paid no attention. Soon they were out of sight.
The boys spotted Brown and Ross running down a side street. The men sped down the next block and turned into a business section where the shops now were closed. There were neither pedestrians nor traffic at the moment.
In a few minutes the three boys overtook the men. “Stop!” Ned called out.
Brown and Ross did as he suggested. But before Ned could speak to them, the men lashed out at the three boys. The Indians’ muscles seemed to be made of steel.
Burt received a punch on the forehead which made him see stars, but it angered him so much he retaliated like a prize fighter. Dave was punched in the stomach and he doubled up with pain. Ned was trying to tackle both opponents at once.
The tide of battle became one-sided when reinforcements arrived for Ross and Brown. Two more men joined the melee with fists flying.
One of them was a black and powerful. Ned just had time to cry out, “Swahili Joe!” when the man caught him with a swift uppercut to the jaw that knocked him unconscious.
The tussle continued, but Burt and Dave were fast losing ground. Then Brown, Ross, and one of the others suddenly sped off. Burt and Dave were puzzled until they turned and looked the other way. Approaching on a run were four policemen!
Swahili Joe saw them too. In a swift move he picked Ned up and swung him across one shoulder, then leaped down the street.
Burt and Dave, though almost exhausted, ran after the big fellow and yanked Ned from him. Swahili Joe did not protest. He took to his heels and was out of sight before the police arrived.
The four officers asked what had happened. Quickly Burt explained.
“I see you do not need us,” one of the men said. “Your attackers have gone. Did they get anything?”
Dave answered. “Those men aren’t ordinary thugs. They didn’t try to rob us. But our friend here was kidnapped and the big man was the guard.”
At that moment Ned sat up, shook his head, and said, “He sure was—back in the States.”
This announcement surprised the policemen, who said they would try to find him. “What is the man’s name?” one of the officers asked.
Ned answered, “His nickname is Swahili Joe. We think he’s connected with the thieves who stole the spider sapphire.”
Burt took up the story. “Those men who ran away first are also part of the ring, we think.”
The leader of the police team said that one man would accompany the boys back to the hotel to be sure they were all right and would not be attacked again. The other three would start an immediate search for the assailants.
The trek to the hotel was slow and painful. The boys were bruised and their muscles ached.
“A fine lot of fighters we look like,” said Burt, managing a grin.
“Just the same,” Dave spoke up, “I’ll bet Nancy, Bess, and George will be glad to see us.”
The policeman asked, “By any chance are you speaking of Miss Nancy Drew?”
The boys’ surprise was evident. “You know her?” Ned asked unbelievingly.
The officer grinned. “Miss Drew is the one who telephoned headquarters. She was fearful you would be attacked.”
“And she was right!” Ned said ruefully.
When the four reached the hotel, Nancy, Bess, and George were waiting for them. The girls were aghast at their friends’ disheveled condition, and amazed when they heard that Swahili Joe and another man had joined Brown and Ross.
“It must have been prearranged,” Nancy said. “Oh, how can I ever thank you for risking your lives?”
“As fighters I don’t think we rate very high,” Burt spoke up. “I’ll bet those men, Brown and Ross, are ex-prize fighters!”
The boys went upstairs immediately to get a long sleep before taking off for Mombasa in the morning. The girls went to their room, but talked a long time about the new turn in the mystery. George was particularly interested in the fact that Swahili Joe was in Nairobi when Ross had indicated that he was in Mombasa.
“He and the other man with him must have planned to meet Brown and Ross on that street. They were to be told what the Indians had found out from you, Nancy, about the spider sapphire.”
Bess was sure they had more dire motives than that. “I hope the police catch them.”
Before Nancy left her room the next morning, she telephoned police headquarters to find out if the four assailants had been captured. To her disappointment the men were still at large.
Bess was worried. “This means that strong-man Joe can keep on harming us,” she said.
“We’ll just have to keep our eyes open,” George retorted. She grinned. “He won’t dare try another baboon trick on me!”
Nancy and her friends met in the lobby. The three boys looked refreshed but carried a few bat-tie scars. Ned had a slightly blackened eye, Burt’s forehead wore a lump, and Dave had a bandage on his left hand.
“Our heroes!” George teased.
The ride to the airfield and in the plane to Mombasa proved to be uneventful. There was no sign of their enemies. The young people hoped that for a time at least they had left their troubles behind.
When the plane landed, the Emerson group went at once to claim their baggage. Due to the large number of passengers, there were a great many suitcases rolling along the conveyor belt.
Finally Nancy spotted the large suitcase ini tialed ND. As her fingers reached for it, she noticed that a paper had been tied around the handle with a cord.
It occurred to Nancy that this might be a warning note! She grabbed the bag off the conveyor belt, set it on the floor, and immediately untied the paper. To her surprise there was nothing on either side of it.
She held the paper up to the light to look for any hidden writing. Apparently there was no message on the paper, so she tossed it into the nearby trash basket.
By this time Ned’s bag had come along and he removed it from the conveyor belt with his left hand and grabbed Nancy’s in his right.
They went outside and found a large taxi to accommodate three couples. It had a big luggage compartment in the rear. Their bags, as well as those of Bess, George, Burt, and Dave, were put into it, then the six Emersonians started for the hotel.
They had not gone more than a mile when Nancy’s hands began to burn and itch. She scratched them instinctively, but this made them smart furiously.
“My hands are all red and they burn,” she told the others.
“Mine too,” said Ned as he held them up.
Suddenly a thought came to Nancy. “Somebody must have put acid on the handle of my suitcase! It’s eating into our hands!”
CHAPTER XVII
Telltale Film
IN another minute the pain in Nancy’s and Ned’s hands became unbearable. She leaned forward and spoke to the taxi driver, requesting him to stop at a drugstore. He put on speed and soon parked in front of Albert’s Pharmacy.
Nancy and Ned jumped out of the taxi and ran inside. A short, energetic Englishman, seeing them rush in, hurried up behind the counter.
“I’m Mr. Albert,” he said, “Is something wrong?”
“Yes. We got acid on our hands by accident,” Ned told him.
“Please,” Nancy spoke up, “may we have some oil quick to put on our hands?”
Mr. Albert looked at the reddened hands.
“‘Are you sure it is oil that you want?”
The couple’s hands hurt so badly they could hardly stand still. Fidgeting about, Nancy pleaded with the proprietor. “We don’t know what the acid is, so I figure oil is the best thing.”
“Well, perhaps you’re right,” Mr. Albert conceded. “Once when I was a boy—”
Nancy lost patience. “Please, please bring us any kind of oil at once!”
The man blinked, then reached up to a shelf behind him and brought down a bottle of mineral oil. He opened it for them and the suffering couple poured it liberally on their hands.
By this time Mr. Albert looked a little worried. “I will give you the name of a good doctor,” he said. “Nobody should ignore a dreadful condition like that. Where have you been?”
Nancy and Ned hardly heard the loquacious man. Though the pain in their hands had eased a bit, both felt that if they could only douse them into oil up to the wrists, there would be a better chance of it penetrating the skin and offsetting the effects of the acid.
“Mr. Albert,” said Nancy “would you please bring us basins so that we can put our whole hands into oil?”
The druggist seemed loath to do this. He acted afraid to have them in his shop.
“Listen, Mr. Albert,” Ned said, “I know we are a lot of trouble to you but this is an emergency. No telling what might happen to us before we could get to a doctor.”
The man gazed at Ned for several seconds, as if reluctant to accede to his request. Finally he invited them into a back room and brought down two small basins from a shelf. He poured large quantities of mineral oil into each. Nancy and Ned submerged their hands.
Mr. Albert continued to make pessimistic statements. “That acid could be poisonous and already be going through your system,” he said dolefully.
“I’m sure it hasn‘t,” Nancy said. She took her hands out of the oil. “All the burning has stopped.”
Ned tested his. “Mine seem to be all right.”
By this time Bess and George had come to see what was happening. They were relieved to hear that Nancy and Ned were better and ready to go.
Ned paid the druggist for the mineral oil and Nancy thanked him for his kindness. Once more the group set off.
The main part of Mombasa was situated on a large island and was reached by crossing a causeway. There was a large harbor with ocean liners and cargo vessels from many countries tied up.
The taxi went directly to an ocean-front hotel, with beautiful gardens and a swimming pooL
“Isn’t this attractive?” Bess exclaimed.
Professor and Mrs. Stanley and the rest of the group were waiting for them on the steps of the portico. Nancy and Ned did not mention what had happened.
Burt insisted upon staying behind to take care of the baggage. He wrapped a newspaper around the handle of Nancy’s bag before picking it up and refused to let either the taxi driver or porter touch it. Burt carried the suitcase to his own room and scrubbed the handle thoroughly with soap and water before delivering it to Nancy’s room.
As he came in with the bag, Burt said, “Nancy, who do you think put the acid on the handle?”
“I can’t name any one person,” she answered, “but I’m sure it was one of the people connected with the spider sapphire mystery.”
George spoke up. “It must have been done in Nairobi. Let’s hope the villains have been left behind!”
Nancy was sure they had not been, but she did not intend to let this latest vicious act of her enemies deter her from continuing her detective work.
The Stanleys had arranged that the Emerson safari be given an early lunch so they could have a full afternoon for sightseeing. The incident of the suitcase had not been told to anyone but the Stanleys, who were solicitous and worried. Nancy and Ned assured them their hands felt all right.
“I have arranged separate tours for you young folks,” said the professor.
He explained that several taxis had been hired. Nancy, Bess, George, and Gwen would go in one.
Aunt Millie Stanley smiled. “The professor and I thought that the girls might be interested in different things from the boys. Your drivers have been instructed where to take you.”
In a short time the taxis arrived. The four girls climbed into the first one and the driver set off. He was a pleasant, smiling black, who spoke Swahili and perfect English.
“First I thought you would be interested in seeing our many fruit markets,” he said. “You know Africa is noted for its melons, pineapples, and berries.”
He drove to a wide thoroughfare with fruit stalls on both sides of the street.
“Look!” Bess exclaimed. “I’ve never seen such big oranges in my life!”
Presently Nancy asked the driver if it would be permissible for her to take a couple of snapshots of a street scene. She knew that African blacks often did not like to have their pictures taken.
“I think it will be all right.”
Nancy stepped out of the car and took one picture lengthwise of the street and one of a fruit stand. As she got back into the taxi, a tall, muscular black came racing across the street. He began waving a fist at her and speaking rapidly in Swahili.
“What is he saying?” she asked the driver.
“He is demanding your camera, because you took his picture.”
“But I didn‘t,” Nancy replied. “I snapped the whole fruit stand from way over here.”
The tall man continued to gesticulate and talk rapidly. By this time a crowd had gathered around the car.
“Why does he want the camera?” George asked.
The driver explained that people who belong to certain tribes believe that if their picture is snapped it will take away their soul.
“I see,” said Nancy. “But I didn’t snap this person’s picture.”
The tall man shook his fist at her again and said in halting English, “You give me film or I have you arrested!”
“Give me film or I have you arrested!” the man said in halting English
“Don’t you do it, Nancy!” George cried out, but Bess and Gwen were terrified and begged her to turn the film over to him.
At that moment they all noticed a tall, handsome black officer hurrying toward them. He wore a white suit and helmet.
Smiling, he listened to the protestor’s demand, then said to Nancy, “Please tell me your side of the story.”
She explained. Apparently he believed her, for he turned to the tall man, spoke a few sentences in Swahili, and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
The fruit dealer was reluctant to give in, but was finally persuaded to go back to his stand. The policeman scattered the crowd and the taxi drove off.
“Oh my!” said Bess. “I was scared silly. I think I’m going to faint!”
George turned to her cousin with a withering look. “Don’t be a ninny,” she said.
As they drove through one street after another, the girls were intrigued by the costumes of the Indian and the Arab citizens. Some men were wearing turbans with feathers stuck in them, others red fezzes. Nearly everyone wore sandals, but many of the blacks were barefoot.
Their guide stopped near a Hindu temple. It was a beautiful white, gold-domed building. A long courtyard led to a high-roofed portico with several steps leading up to it. A sign reminded the visitors to remove their shoes.
“Oh, look ahead!” Bess whispered.
As the four girls walked through the portico, they stopped to admire a large oblong pedestal on which rested the image of a white cow. It was gaily decorated with garlands of flowers and scarfs. Gwen asked the meaning of this.
“I’ve read,” Nancy told her, “that in the Hindu religion the cow is a sacred animal and is never killed or eaten.”
At the end of the portico and down several steps was a small room. Here were priests and worshipers, bowls of what looked like grain, and pots of incense. Since the visitors did not understand the significance, they bowed politely to those inside and turned away.
The next stop was in a commercial area where ivory auctions took place twice a year. Buyers came from all over the world. The warehouse manager showed the girls around. Tusks of elephant and rhino ivory lay on the floor.
“Is this made into jewelry and figurines?” Bess asked him.
“No, Kenya ivory is too soft. Most of it is used for billiard balls. Hard ivory comes from Uganda. It goes to Hong Kong and Japan for carving.”
Nancy stepped among the great tusks. Near the end of the building were two huge elephant’s feet. Nancy felt them and was surprised that they were covered with long bristly hairs.
When she returned to the entrance, George was just saying, “What would a rhino tusk be worth?”
“In an auction the price varies,” the manager replied. “But the last one I sold brought seven hundred dollars.”
“Wheel” George exclaimed. “When I saw those mean rhinos at Treetops Inn, I had no idea they were worth so much money!”
Bess giggled. “You’d have to pay me a lot more than seven hundred dollars to capture one.”
The girls thanked the warehouse manager and returned to the taxi. Their driver took a side road which led to a village of wood carvers.
The natives lived in attractive wooden houses. Beyond them was an open-air, thatched-roof “factory” where carved figures of animals and ceremonial masks were made from mahogany tree trunks.
Groups of men were chipping out the rough statuettes, others were doing the more delicate carving. Some workers were sandpapering and still others doing the final polishing. The results were satin-smooth, graceful figures of wild animals and every type of mask from pleasant-looking to the most grotesque.
Nancy went up to one of the series of small shops where the objects were displayed on rugs on the ground. “My father would love this,” she said to the other girls, picking out a rhino. She also bought a duiker for her Aunt Eloise and an eland for Hannah Gruen.
Nancy paid for the articles. As the shopkeeper gave her change, he suddenly stared at Nancy and said, “You follow me!”
Nancy was startled. She had thought these people friendly. What was going to happen now?
The man, as if sensing her surprise, added, “All girls come! I make you death mask!”
CHAPTER XVIII
A Trick of Memory
“A death mask!” Bess shrieked. “Nancy, this is another threat! Let’s get away from here as fast as we can!”
It was the shopkeeper’s turn to look startled. “You are afraid of something?” he asked. “I mean no harm. I want to give gift to this nice young lady. She has lovely face. I have special artist to make likeness.”
“But you said death mask,” Bess told him.
The man shrugged. “Our people make them so relatives can enjoy the face after people are dead. Maybe your papa would like to have this if something happen to you? No harm come to you in this village.”
Reassured, Nancy and the other girls followed the man to a tree-shaded area where a lone wood carver sat cross-legged on the ground working. He was an old man with an ingenuous smile.
He requested Nancy to seat herself on the ground, to raise her chin and hold very still. The other girls watched in fascination as the man’s light fingers carefully chipped at a block of wood. In a short time the likeness to Nancy’s features could be seen plainly. Soon he indicated he no longer needed her as a model and she was free to roam about until the mask was finished.
“He’s very talented,” Gwen remarked.
The others thought so too. Now they wandered about the village. The children were very good-looking and grinned most of the time. Nancy inquired if it was all right to take pictures and was told Yes. Once she started, the children crowded around, each one wanting to be in every picture. In a short time Nancy’s film was used up.
The girls walked through the various areas, watching the deft fingers that produced the beautiful handiwork. Several times Nancy asked the workers if they knew a guide named Tizam. Each one shook his head.
Finally the old artist beckoned to them and they hurried over. He said the mask would be ready soon—a worker was giving the piece its final polish.
When Nancy queried him about Tizam, the wood carver’s eyes lit up. “I know Tizam. He is very fine wood carver.”
“Really?” Nancy was surprised that no one had told her this before. Perhaps he was not the same Tizam whom she was trying to find. “Was he also a guide?”
“Yes. Last time I hear of him he take party out from Nairobi.”
“What became of him?” Nancy inquired.
The old man said he did not know. He had not seen or heard of Tizam in a long time.
Nancy was excited by the idea that if Tizam were a wood carver this might be a real clue to his whereabouts. She asked the old man whether Tizam specialized in any type of figures.
“Yes. He always make statue of three gazelles together.”
“That’s unusual,” George spoke up. She thought she knew what was racing through Nancy’s mind.
“You’re going to start hunting for some of Tizam’s work?”
As Nancy nodded, a boy brought her finished mask to the old man. He smiled.
“You like this? You are satisfied?”
“Indeed I am,” Nancy replied. “Of course one never knows what one looks like. What do you girls think?”
“It’s an amazing likeness,” Bess told her.
The elderly wood carver examined his work inside and out very carefully before summoning Nancy to his side. “I want to show you special secret thing I put in.”
He turned the mask over and pointed to the eye sockets. They had been covered with tiny wooden doors. Now the wood carver lifted up each one with a fingernail. A tiny spring with a miniature wooden peg held the doors in place. The sockets were empty.
“This good hiding place,” he said. “You keep money or jewelry in here. Nobody think to look and steal”
Nancy congratulated him on his ingenuity, and expressed her appreciation for the extra effort he had put into making the marvelous mask. Nancy took it from him and asked how much she owed.
A hurt look came over the artist’s face. “I take no money for this. It is gift for you. Enjoy it. Maybe you give it to your papa and tell him I once had daughter like you. She older now. Have eight children.” He pointed toward some whose pictures Nancy had taken.
“You are very fortunate and very kind,” Nancy said. “Since you will not let me pay you for the mask, at least I can send you copies of the pictures I took of your grandchildren.”
He smiled. “That very nice reward.”
The girls said good-by and walked back toward their taxi. When they passed the shop where Nancy had made the purchases, she showed the mask to the owner. The man grinned broadly.
“I am glad the old man did such good work,” he said “Did he put in the secret eye sockets?”
Nancy showed him and he said this custom was still followed by some African blacks. A mask was put over the face of the deceased person and precious belongings inserted into the sockets.
When the girls reached their taxi, Nancy held up the mask for their guide to see, then slipped it into her large shopping bag. As they continued their tour of the city, she asked him to take them to various shops where wood carvings were sold. The driver looked a little puzzled, having just taken them to the best one. But he merely nodded.
They returned to the heart of the city and stopped at one shop where a variety of gift items were sold. The girls thoroughly combed the shelves and counters but saw no carved pieces of three gazelles together. The searchers went into several other shops.
Finally in one George exclaimed, “Nancy, here are three gazelles!”
The girl detective ran over to look. At almost the same time Bess and Gwen discovered two others. They were exquisite pieces, but there was no artist’s name carved into the bottom.
Nancy approached a clerk and asked if she might see the store owner. She was taken to a little office at the rear of the shop. The owner was a very pleasant English woman.
“I am very much interested in these pieces of three gazelles,” Nancy said. “Would you mind telling me who the artist is?”
The woman said, “I do not remember but I will look it up.”
She took a ledger from a shelf and began to turn the pages. After checking her list of purchases, she pointed to one entry. “The man’s name is Huay. He is a black and like so many of those people is a very fine wood carver.”