Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I - A Frightening Message
CHAPTER II - Mysteries Multiply
CHAPTER III - A Worrisome Ride
CHAPTER IV - A Vicious Caller
CHAPTER V - Clue of the Stamp
CHAPTER VI - A Strange Mix-up
CHAPTER VII - Masked Intruders
CHAPTER VIII - The Artist’s Knife
CHAPTER IX - Ballet Interlude
CHAPTER X - Quest for Portraits
CHAPTER XI - Signs of Tampering
CHAPTER XII - A Rewarding Hunt
CHAPTER XIII - “Officer, Help!”
CHAPTER XIV - Puzzling Phone Calls
CHAPTER XV - A Chase
CHAPTER XVI - Disguise
CHAPTER XVII - Ned’s Ruse
CHAPTER XVIII - A Dancer’s Footprints
CHAPTER XIX - Desperate Measures
CHAPTER XX - Grand Finale
Match Wits with The Hardy Boys!
Match Wits with Super Sleuth Nancy Drew!
THE SCARLET SLIPPER MYSTERY
Nancy meets Helene and Henri Fontaine, refugees from Centrovia who run a dancing school in River Heights. Strange circumstances have brought the brother and sister to the United States. When they receive an anonymous note threatening their lives, Nancy offers her help.
But she encounters nothing but puzzles. Are the Fontaines involved with the Centrovian underground? Have they been threatened by their own countrymen? Why? Is a series of paintings by Henri Fontaine being used for a sinister purpose?
Suddenly the Fontaines disappear. Have they been kidnapped? Nancy and her friends pursue the trail relentlessly, even though danger lurks around every corner. They are trapped by their enemies, and escape seems impossible. But Nancy’s quick wit finally enables her to solve this intriguing and intricate mystery.
“Hannah!” Nancy cried. “Who did this to you?”
Copyright © 1974,1954 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam &
Grosset Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A.
NANCY DREW MYSTERY STORIES® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster,
Inc. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number:
eISBN : 978-1-101-07733-7
http://us.penguingroup.com
CHAPTER I
A Frightening Message
“WE will crash! Oh—oh!”
An ashen-faced, middle-aged man leaned across the aisle of the jet plane toward Nancy Drew.
The attractive reddish-blond girl smiled reassuringly. “Please don’t worry,” she said gently. “Only the engine has stopped. We’ll be all right. And we’ll soon reach River Heights.”
“No! No!” the man moaned. “This is the end and all my work—!” He mumbled something to himself in a foreign tongue, then added, “My beloved Centrovia—” He shook a fist as if at the pilot, then buried his face in his hands.
When Nancy tried to comfort him further, a stewardess and a man and a woman passenger crowded alongside, blocking her view. The foreign gentleman quieted down, the two passengers returned to their seats, and Nancy became engrossed with the preparations for landing. Would it be as safe as she had predicted, she wondered?
The pilot maneuvered his ship expertly, bringing it down in a long glide and landing on the far end of the runway at the River Heights Airport.
When the plane rolled to a stop, Nancy smiled at the stranger across the aisle and said, “That wasn’t bad, was it?”
“A miracle!” was the abrupt answer. The man stood up, grabbed a briefcase from under his seat, and quickly departed.
Nancy put on the jacket of her navy suit, picked up her purse, and walked slowly to the door. She paused to tell the stewardess how much she had enjoyed the flight, then hurried down the ramp. A short distance beyond stood her two closest friends, Bess Marvin and George Fayne, in gay cotton skirts and blouses.
George was an attractive girl with short dark hair and a slender figure, much like Nancy’s. George’s pretty cousin Bess, on the other hand, was slightly plump and worried continually about her figure.
“Hi, Nancy!” George exclaimed. “Have a good time at your Aunt Eloise’s?”
“Perfect! I love New York.”
“See any shows?” Bess asked.
Nancy nodded. “Three. One was a musical with wonderful dancing. You’d adore it, Bess.”
As soon as Nancy had collected her baggage, the three girls walked to Nancy’s convertible, which her friends had brought to the airport. Nancy took the wheel, and as they drove toward the residential section of town, she said, “Tell me everything that’s happened while I was gone.”
Bess giggled. “I’ve lost two pounds. There’s a wonderful new dancing school in town, Nancy. All kinds of classes. I’ve joined one in reducing. Matter of fact, we just came from there.”
George sniffed. “Yes, Bess takes it off dancing and puts it all back on by eating.”
Nancy laughed and asked, “Who’s running the new dancing school?”
Bess said that it was owned by a brother and sister named Henri and Helene Fontaine, who had recently come to River Heights from France, and that they were exceptionally fine dancers as well as excellent teachers.
“They have a simply delightful accent,” Bess said. “Wait till you hear them talk.”
George remarked that the classes had an interesting feature. Before each lesson, Helene and Henri gave a talk on the history of the dance.
“How fascinating!” said Nancy, her blue eyes sparkling. She was always intrigued by the background of any art form.
A few minutes later they reached the Fayne residence and George climbed out. She waved good-by, saying, “See you soon. I want to hear all about your trip, Nancy.”
The car pulled away from the curb and Bess suddenly cried out, “Oh, I’ve lost my purse. I must have left it at the dancing school in the excitement of going to meet you.”
“We’ll stop by and pick it up,” Nancy offered.
The school occupied the second floor of an office building in the business section of River Heights. Nancy parked and waited while her friend hurried upstairs. Bess was back in a few seconds, however, without her purse.
“Oh, your pocketbook wasn’t there after all?” Nancy asked.
“It’s not that. I didn’t even look for it. Nancy, something dreadful must have happened to Helene. She and Henri are there all alone, and Helene is crying as if her heart would break. Please come with me and see if we can help her.”
Nancy hesitated a moment. She remarked that perhaps the matter was a family affair and they should not intrude. But Bess felt sure there was more to it than that.
“I heard Helene tell Henri she was so frightened!”
Nancy needed no further urging. She got out of the car instantly and hurried up the stairs with Bess. As the two girls entered the studio, Helene, a dainty, dark-haired girl, was saying to her brother in French, “No, we must flee again!”
Nancy and Bess stood still as the startled couple looked up. Henri was a tall, handsome young man with blond hair. He was leaning on an ivory-and-gold French Provincial desk, behind which his sister was seated.
At a glance Nancy saw that the room was spacious and beautifully furnished with gold chairs and deep-blue drapes. On the wall above the desk hung a pair of scarlet ballet slippers.
“Oh, Bess, come in!” Helene urged, drying her eyes with a dainty handkerchief.
Bess moved forward slowly. She introduced Nancy, then added, “If you are in so
me kind of trouble, perhaps we can assist you. I couldn’t help overhearing you when I came back for my handbag a few minutes ago.”
The brother and sister exchanged quick glances. Then Henri slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid this is too serious a problem.”
“Of course we don’t mean to intrude,” said Bess. “But you see, Nancy is a detective and has solved many difficult mysteries.”
The Fontaines looked at Nancy in amazement. Then Henri said, “A girl detective? You are very pretty and—hardly look like a detective!”
Nancy laughed merrily. “I’m afraid Bess is giving me too much credit, but I’ll be glad to do anything I can for you.”
Again Henri and Helene exchanged glances. When the girl nodded to her brother, Henri said, “We do need a friend. Perhaps you girls are the ones to help us.”
Henri took an unsigned note from his pocket and showed it to Nancy. It was hand-printed in French and at the bottom, crudely drawn in red, was a pair of ballet slippers, similar to those hanging on the wall.
“The note was folded and left on the desk by some unknown person,” he explained. “It was not addressed to Helene and me, but the scarlet-slippers insigne convinced us that the note was for us—no one else. Here, I will translate it for you.”
Although Nancy could both read and speak French, she listened attentively as he began:
You will lose your lives if you do not leave this area at once. Do not communicate with any friends you have made in the United States.
When Henri finished reading, Helene burst into tears. “I’m so afraid,” she said. “This is the second note that we have received.”
“Recently?” Nancy asked.
“No,” Henri replied, and he went on to explain that the first note was sent to them in France about eighteen months before. That one had ordered the brother and sister to leave their country.
“Is that when you came here?” Nancy inquired.
“Yes, it was,” Helene answered. Then, looking around furtively and lowering her voice, she added, “The other note also contained a threat. It said that the secret police from our native country were going to kidnap us and take us back there. I’m afraid that’s what this one means.“
“I’m so afraid,” Helene said.
“Isn’t France your native country?” Bess broke in.
“No,” Henri replied. “We are Centrovians.”
“Centrovians!” Nancy exclaimed. “I wonder—”
As she stopped speaking, Helene asked if they had said anything to offend Nancy. The young detective said no. She was just startled because a short time before she had been talking with a man on a plane from New York who was a Centrovian.
“Oh!” the brother and sister cried out, and Henri added, “He was probably the one who left this note! What did he look like?”
Nancy described the man, adding that he was apparently a very nervous, excitable individual. The Fontaines failed to recognize him but were convinced that he was the guilty person.
“If this man is staying in River Heights, I ought to be able to find him,” Nancy said.
The Fontaines begged her to do so. The girls rose to leave and Henri walked to the door with them.
“I have one very special request to make,” he said. “We have never told anyone here that we came from Centrovia. France was our adopted country and we want it to be known that we came from there.”
“I understand,” said Nancy. “But perhaps you should tell me more about what happened and why you left Centrovia. I promise to keep everything confidential.”
Henri related a terrifying tale of how Centrovia had been overrun by enemy forces. Due to the horrors of the occupation, many people had fled to other countries.
“This happened about eight years ago,” the young man explained. “Our parents were among those who found refuge in France. Our name was Provak. When we reached Paris, we changed it to Fontaine.”
Helene took up the story. “My parents—perhaps I should not tell you this—joined an organization that aimed to overthrow those new rulers in Centrovia. But both of them died before anything was accomplished.” Helene pointed to the slippers on the wall. “Those belonged to my mother. She was a famous ballet dancer.”
Henri put an arm about his sister’s shoulders. “Our mother’s death was caused by worry,” he said. “When we fled from Centrovia, another family asked us to take a fortune in jewels with us to be used to help the underground movement. Unfortunately, the new rulers suspected this, and thus caused my parents a great deal of worry by accusing them of stealing the fortune and trying to make them reveal where it was.”
“But they didn’t steal it! They didn’t!” Helene cried out. “The jewels were sold a few at a time to provide money for the work of freeing our people.”
When the Fontaines stopped speaking, Nancy asked if there was any connection between the slippers on the note and those on the wall.
“I don’t know,” Helene answered. “Oh, what do you think we should do? Obey the warning and give up our work here?”
It was several seconds before Nancy replied. Then she said, “Please don’t make any hasty decisions. I’m sure I can help you. Furthermore, my father is a lawyer and I’ll talk to him.”
The Fontaines agreed to delay leaving.
“Surely whoever sent the warning note would not expect you to wind up your business affairs on a moment’s notice,” Nancy added. “In the meantime, I may find a way out for you.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Helene. “You are a true friend and, just think, we have known you only a few minutes. May I call you Nancy?”
The young detective smiled at Helene’s charming old-world manners and said that from now on they would be Helene and Nancy to each other.
“And will you please call me Henri?” Helene’s brother asked, a twinkle in his eyes.
Nancy eagerly agreed.
Bess retrieved her purse and a short time later the girls said good-by to the Fontaines. Nancy promised to get in touch with them the next day.
As they drove along the main street, Bess asked about the stranger in the plane who was from Centrovia. The words were hardly out of her mouth when, at an intersection, a man suddenly stepped from the curb, directly into the path of the car.
Nancy slammed on her brakes so fast that the tires screeched. Instantly the man leaped back to the sidewalk and she cried, “Bess, take the wheel! That’s the Centrovian I met on the plane. I must talk to him!”
Before Bess could object, Nancy was out of the car and hurrying toward the stranger.
CHAPTER II
Mysteries Multiply
As Nancy bounded around the front of her car, the traffic light changed. The automobile in the right lane rounded the corner, cutting off her dash to the curb. By the time she reached the sidewalk, the man she was chasing had disappeared.
Bess parked the convertible and watched as Nancy dodged in and out of nearby stores, looking for the stranger. Finally the young sleuth returned and climbed into her car.
“That man certainly vanished suddenly,” she said. “But I intend to find him.”
Nancy was greatly admired in River Heights because of her unusual ability to track down elusive clues, as well as her courage and quickwittedness.
The girl’s reputation as a detective went back to the time when her father, a prominent lawyer, had turned over to her the case known as The Secret of the Old Clock. Since then, Nancy had been engaged in countless adventures. Recently she had finished working on a strange circus intrigue—The Ringmaster’s Secret.
Now she was eager to solve the Fontaines’ mystery and was annoyed that the first good lead in the case had slipped through her fingers.
Bess, still at the wheel, drove to her house. She alighted and said she would see Nancy the next day. “Please be careful,” she added as the young detective drove away.
Nancy headed home, a spacious dwelling on a street lined with old sycamores. She parked in the winding, flower-bordered d
riveway.
As she hurried up the walk to the kitchen door, Hannah Gruen, the Drews’ housekeeper, came out to meet her. Nancy embraced the pleasant-faced woman who had lived with the family since Mrs. Drew’s death many years before.
Nancy’s little terrier, Togo, barked sharply and bounded to greet her. She caught him up in her arms, then turned to the housekeeper. “How is everything? Is Dad home?”
“Things are fine,” Hannah replied. “Here comes your father now.”
At that moment Carson Drew pulled into the driveway. Nancy ran to greet him. He was a tall, handsome man. Nancy loved his pleasant disposition, the twinkle in his eyes, and his keen mind.
During dinner, Nancy told Hannah and her father about her trip. Then she mentioned the Fontaines and their problem.
“It sounds very serious,” Mr. Drew said. “I’d rather you did nothing about this until I consult government authorities on the subject. I’m flying down to Washington this evening.”
Nancy nodded. “But may I search for that mysterious man who was on the plane?”
“All right,” the lawyer conceded, “but be careful. If necessary, get the police.”
After dinner Nancy began telephoning local hotels. But no one known to be from Centrovia was registered at any of them.
At nine o’clock a taxi came to take Mr. Drew to the airport. He had been gone only a few minutes when the doorbell rang.
“Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Boyd,” Nancy said, greeting a slender, gray-haired woman, who was red-faced and seemed upset.
“I want to see your father right away, Nancy.”
“I’m sorry, but he’s not at home. Can I do anything for you?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Mrs. Boyd answered as Nancy led her into the living room. “It’s about Mr. Howard, down at the jewelry store. I think I ought to sue him!”
The distraught woman settled down in a comfortable chair. “This morning when I was in the store,” she went on, “I saw a bisque figurine that appealed to me. It was expensive, but I bought it. After I got home, what do you think? There was a long crack in the little statue.”