Read The Greek Symbol Mystery Page 9


  Helen looked soberly at the girl. “All right,” she said at last.

  The next day, Nancy and Helen made a list of all the banks in Athens. They went from one to the other asking if Lineos Nicholas had maintained an account there.

  “I’m getting so tired,” Helen said as she pushed open the door of the fifth bank. “Can’t we continue this tomorrow?” she begged.

  “Tomorrow may be too late,” Nancy replied.

  “Too late for what?”

  “For you. If Vatis was in cahoots with somebody here in Athens, they may know he’s been arrested and try to steal the rest of your inheritance.”

  “Isn’t it more likely the two of them would keep a low profile?” Helen retorted.

  “Not if they want the money!”

  “Well, there’s no point debating about it,” Helen said. “Where is the next bank located?”

  “Not far from here,” Nancy replied.

  She indicated a brick building two blocks up the street. They walked to it quickly. Inside, a guard greeted them. Helen spoke to him in Greek, and to her delight, he said he remembered her uncle well. He had been sorry when he’d heard that Lineos Nicholas had died.

  “Such a nice man,” the guard added.

  “Did he have a safe-deposit box here?” Helen inquired.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. I’ve been wondering why no one has come to claim the contents.”

  “Have the bank charges been paid regularly?” Nancy asked, prompting Helen to translate the questions into Greek.

  “Nai. Yes, at least, so far as I know.”

  “When is the next billing due?” Nancy asked.

  “Tomorrow. ”

  “Wonderful,” Nancy said. She snapped her fingers as she and Helen left the building. “You and Mrs. Thompson must come here first thing in the morning. ”

  “To pay for the use of the box?”

  “No—to wait for the person who will.”

  “But how do you know the payment won’t be mailed?”

  “I don’t, but it’s worth being here to find out.”

  As the girl detective recommended, Helen and Mrs. Thompson left for the bank early the following day. The others remained at the hotel hoping for another message from Mr. Drew.

  “There’s a beautiful embroidered dress in one of the shops downstairs,” Bess said, trying to gain the interest of her friends.

  “Is there?” George said casually. She helped Nancy swing two chairs out onto the balcony of their room.

  “I can see you’re both absolutely thrilled about my discovery,” Bess murmured as her friends sat down.

  “We are,” Nancy insisted. But she turned her face toward the shimmering rays of the sun and closed her eyes.

  “Are you two going to sit up here all day?” Bess asked impatiently.

  “Just until Dad calls,” Nancy replied.

  “In that case,” Bess commented unhappily, “I might as well go shopping alone.”

  She took the elevator to the first floor and discovered almost immediately that the embroidered outfit was no longer in the window. When she inquired about it, the proprietor said it had been sold the day before.

  “Thank you, anyway,” Bess said in disappointment.

  She took a few moments to look at a selection of pretty needlepoint pillows. Then, as she was about to leave, the dressing-room curtain parted open.

  “Stella!” Bess exclaimed.

  The other girl did not reply, however. She pretended not to recognize Bess and flew past her out the door of the shop.

  “Don’t you remember me, Stella?”

  Bess trailed after her, but a group of arriving tourists quickly separated the young women.

  I wonder why she was shopping in this hotel, of all places, the girl said to herself. Come to think of it, she didn’t leave with any packages. Maybe she was in the store when I stepped in and she hid in the dressing room.

  Then, suddenly, she saw Stella push open the revolving door of the hotel. The young woman dashed out into the square and hailed a taxi.

  I’m just too suspicious for my own good, Bess chided herself. Even so, I’d love to talk to Stella again.

  It seemed unlikely that Mr. Drew had telephoned Nancy yet, so Bess did not even bother to tell her friends where she was going.

  “Monastiraki, here I come!” Bess decided.

  She caught a cab and in a few minutes found herself at the jewelry shop. Strangely, the woman who had waited on her was not there. Instead, there was a completely new staff. Bess asked the man behind the counter for Stella.

  “I do not know her, he said pleasantly.

  “I’m also looking for Constantine Nicholas.”

  Again the man shrugged. “Perhaps Mrs. Koukoulis knew both of those people. But—uh—she sold the business to me rather quickly and I am not yet familiar with her customers.”

  “Or former employees?”

  “They’re all gone.”

  Very strange, Bess thought as she said good-bye.

  By the time she reached the hotel and the girls’ room, Helen and Mrs. Thompson had also returned.

  “Where have you been?” George asked. She eyed her cousin’s empty hands. “No dress?”

  Bess shook her head and related her encounter with Stella Anagnost.

  “I also have news,” Helen remarked. “A boy brought an envelope to the guard at the bank. It contained the payment for Uncle Lineos’s safe-deposit box—”

  “Your hunch was right, Nancy,” Mrs. Thompson interrupted.

  “We asked the boy who he was,” Helen said, “but he wouldn’t give us his name.”

  “He did admit, however, that someone from the shipyards asked him to make the delivery,” Mrs. Thompson explained. “The man told him to say it was from Constantine Nicholas, who couldn’t come himself—”

  “Because he is living in a monastery outside Athens,” Helen concluded.

  “Incredible!” George exclaimed.

  “The question is, which monastery,” Nancy said.

  “It’s Ayiou Markou,” Helen put in.

  “St. Mark’s—the one we tried to investigate before!” Nancy exclaimed in excitement. “We’ll go there tomorrow.”

  “Why not today?” Bess asked.

  “Because Dad’s going to be arriving with three big surprises!”

  18

  Barrel Trap

  “Three surprises?” Bess repeated. “What are they?”

  “If I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises anymore.” Nancy grinned, saying her father had phoned earlier.

  That evening, when Mr. Drew knocked on the girls’ hotel door, Nancy opened it with anticipation.

  “Ned!” she cried happily.

  “Hi!” he said, giving her a kiss.

  “Hello, dear,” Mr. Drew added from behind.

  “Dad, I’m so glad you’re here,” Nancy said as Burt Eddleton and Dave Evans also poked their heads around the door.

  “May we join the reunion?” Dave grinned.

  “Can you!” Bess giggled gleefully.

  “We had no idea you were coming to Greece!” George said to Burt.

  “We didn’t, either!” her Emerson College friend replied.

  “What I want to find out,” Ned said, “is why you went ahead and captured Mr. Vatis before we got here. ”

  Nancy chuckled. “We’ll make up for it.”

  “How?” Bess piped up.

  “By giving us three crooks to catch—one per couple!” Nancy said.

  “We could go into partnership,” George declared. “I have the perfect name for our company—the Sleuth Snoops!”

  Everyone laughed, then quickly became serious as Nancy related everything that had developed since Vatis’s arrest.

  “This photograph is wonderful,” Mr. Drew complimented his daughter. He was gazing at the enlargement of Uncle Nicholas’s will. “Perhaps Helen and I ought to pay a visit to Mr. Vatis.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Helen said.

&
nbsp; She smiled at the attorney, who responded with equal warmth in his eyes. Nancy glanced from one to the other.

  “Dad, should I go, too?” she asked, trying to suppress a feeling that she might be an intruder.

  “No, dear, that won’t be necessary,” her father answered.

  “In that case,” George said, “the rest of us can tackle the monastery.”

  Mrs. Thompson cleared her throat to be heard. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take the time to do some shopping for Maria and the other Papadapoulos children.”

  “We don’t mind a bit,” Bess said, slipping her arm into Dave’s. “The Sleuth Snoops can take care of the job!”

  As planned, the six young people set off for St. Mark’s monastery the next day. It was unusually hot and the fact that the air conditioner in Mr. Mousiadis’s car was not working did not help. The moment they pulled into the courtyard of St. Mark’s, Bess and Dave stepped out and headed for the cool stone bench under a large tree.

  “Whew!” Bess remarked. “It’s hotter ’n peppers.

  “You can say that again,” her friend said, and rested against the tree trunk, watching the others disappear through the iron gates.

  “Aren’t you coming?” George called to the couple.

  “In a minute,” Bess sighed. She was unaware that the foursome had also decided to split up in twos.

  George and Burt headed for the gardens behind the chapel while Nancy told Ned about the prayer room across the way.

  “I’d like to see it,” Ned said, suggesting that Nancy take the lead.

  As they strode across the stone yard, a monk scurried out of his room. He brushed past the pair as if they did not exist.

  “I guess they’re not used to having visitors,” Ned chuckled.

  “Guess not,” Nancy agreed, stepping into the shady corridor at the foot of the stairway.

  To the right was the small prayer room. The door was half-open and no one was inside.

  “Where does that go?” Ned questioned, glancing toward the end of the passageway where there was a large wooden door.

  “I don’t recall seeing that the last time I was here,” Nancy commented.

  “How could you miss it, Miss Detective?”

  “It was easy,” she said, frowning playfully. “It was two o’clock in the morning!”

  She darted ahead and lifted the latch. The door swung open freely. Beyond was a medium-sized room with little in it. Against one wall was a plain wooden bench.

  Suddenly, Ned spotted a huge wooden barrel on its side in one corner. “How do you figure that got through this door?” he asked. Both he and Nancy gaped at the enormous cylinder of wood.

  “What interests me more,” Nancy said, “are those panels of mosaic on that far wall. ”

  From where she and Ned stood, they saw that the mosaics were precast in wooden frames. They looked like paintings whose colors were finely blended.

  “It was clever to mount them that way,” Nancy said. “They’re attached to the wall on brackets so they can be removed easily and hung elsewhere.”

  “Just like other pictures,” Ned agreed, grinning.

  “These may be the mosaics I overheard Isakos talking about—”

  Before Nancy could finish her sentence, a pair of black-hooded robes were hurled over her and Ned.

  “Ned!” she cried out, but her voice was instantly muffled as rope was lashed around her waist, pulling the material down tightly over her head.

  Her companion had been taken off guard as well and trussed up. Unseen hands pushed the helpless couple into the big barrel and the lid was fastened in place.

  We’ve got to get out of here! Nancy thought with determination.

  She kicked against the floor of the barrel, rolling into Ned, who struggled to free his arms from the rope that imprisoned him. His movements loosened his bonds slightly and he tried to speak.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, gagging on a fold of the black material.

  Nancy groaned in reply, if only to let him know she had not fainted from the heat and stuffiness.

  If we don’t get out of here soon, she thought weakly, I probably will pass out. Ned, too. Please, somebody, help us!”

  As if she had been heard, Bess and Dave had begun to search for the couple. “Nancy? Ned?” Dave called several times.

  “Maybe they’re in the garden,” Bess suggested.

  At the same moment, the monk who had nearly bumped into Nancy and Ned emerged from the chapel at the end of the yard.

  “May I help you?” he asked in English.

  There was a gentleness in his voice that immediately calmed the young detectives.

  “I hope so,” Bess said respectfully. She described her missing friends.

  “As a matter of fact, I do remember them,” the man said. “I was in such a hurry I almost stumbled into them.” He laughed lightly. “I shall have to do penance for that.”

  “Where did they go?” Dave questioned with growing impatience.

  “I don’t really know, but why not start by looking over there?” He pointed to the crumbling stairway.

  “Good idea,” Bess said, murmuring to herself. “Nancy probably would want to visit that little prayer room in daylight.”

  To her chagrin, it was completely empty.

  “But there’s another one,” the kindly monk said, indicating the far door.

  Bess and Dave ran ahead, pushing it open with gusto. The large barrel was rocking against the wall and voices groaned inside.

  “Nancy! Ned!” Dave shouted, tearing off the wooden lid.

  The couple was weak from the heat. They slid limply out onto the floor and lay still as their friends removed the stifling robes.

  “Oh!” Nancy said, as she suddenly felt several degrees cooler. She swayed to her feet with Ned’s help. He slipped his arm around her waist and led her to the bench.

  “Thank goodness you found us,” Ned told the others.

  The monk, in the meantime, was staring at the wall ahead. “What happened to the mosaics?” he gasped.

  Nancy and Ned turned to look. The panels were gone!

  “What was up there?” Bess asked.

  “Beautiful mosaics,” Nancy said incredulously. “They must have been stolen—”

  “By the people who forced us into that barrel!” Ned deduced.

  “And I know who they are!” Nancy declared.

  19

  Mosaic Lead

  “You know who stole the mosaics?” Ned asked Nancy in surprise.

  “Let’s say it’s a hunch,” she replied. Turning to the monk, she asked, “Do you happen to know a man named Constantine Nicholas?”

  “Yes, but you don’t think he’s responsible for this?” he said, motioning toward the blank wall. “It doesn’t seem likely. He has been here often, begging for help.”

  “Help?” Nancy repeated.

  “He admitted he was in trouble. He tried to get out of it but couldn’t. Whenever visitors appeared, he would put on one of our robes and pretend he was deaf.”

  Ned leaned close to Nancy. “Doesn’t that sound as if Constantine’s the smuggler we’re after?” he whispered.

  The girl detective nodded, which prompted the monk to ask her, “How well do you know Constantine Nicholas?”

  “I’ve never met him,” Nancy said and briefly explained her mission.

  A perplexed expression crept into the man’s face. Finally he spoke. “I don’t know whether the person who comes here is the one you are looking for. In any case, I will have to notify the police about the theft of our mosaics.”

  “I understand,” Nancy said. “But we’ll try to find them for you, anyway.”

  As the foursome emerged into the courtyard again, Burt and George waved to them excitedly. They were standing near the shrub-lined access to the gardens.

  “What’s up?” Dave asked Burt.

  “Follow us,” George said mysteriously.

  Nancy walked briskly along the stone path that
led to a landscaped terrace trimmed with zakinthos, white flowers that closely resembled snap-dragons. Beyond them was a clump of olive trees. A man was walking slowly between them.

  “Who is it?” Bess whispered.

  Nancy trained her eyes on the man, who looked like the man in the snapshot in her purse. “It may be Constantine,” she said. “Wait for me.”

  As Nancy stepped nearer to the man, she noticed the grass was thick and moist.

  If he tries to escape, she thought, he won’t get far.

  She skirted the trees, calling out, “Constantine Nicholas!”

  Her heart pounded as she waited for a response. None came, so she repeated the name.

  He probably hopes I’ll give up and go away, she thought.

  To her surprise, the man halted. He stood quietly for several moments, then turned to face the girl.

  “You are Constantine!” she said as a wave of recognition passed between the two.

  “And you are Nancy Drew?”

  “Yes, but how did you know?”

  “I’ve seen your picture in the American newspapers. ”

  “I have seen yours, too,” Nancy admitted, pulling it out of her purse.

  Constantine’s sad expression changed only slightly. “It’s no use anymore,” he said. “I’m glad you found me.”

  The relief in his voice made Nancy feel that before her was not a hardened criminal but a mixed-up young man.

  “I’ll pay back everything with the money I’m going to inherit,” Constantine said. “That is, if I can find the lawyer who took it and the bracelet I gave him.”

  Nancy gasped in surprise. She waited until the others had joined them and everyone was introduced before she asked, “You mean you never received your inheritance?”

  Constantine shook his head. “I had no money to pay Mr. Vatis for the work he did on my uncle’s will, so I gave him the bracelet. Shortly after that, I tried to contact him, but he had moved. I never heard from him again.”

  “He’s in jail,” George said. “I suppose we’ll be able to find out from him whether your story and his match.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad someone caught him,” the young man replied. “At least—” But his voice broke and he lowered his eyes unhappily.