Undercover Disguise

The three girls stared at the gowns in horror.

“What are we going to do? ” Bess gasped.

Nancy quickly asked her aunt if she had a pair of small scissors.

“Or three pairs? ” George added.

“All I have are these, ” the woman replied, removing tiny shears from a sewing basket and large ones from a desk drawer, “and I’m afraid you might cut a hole in the material, if you use the big pair.”

“We don’t have much time, ” Nancy said, “so I’ll have to take the chance.”

While the cousins went to work with the small blades, Nancy slipped the longer ones under the top threads that held the zipper of her dress. She cut through stitch after stitch until she reached the metal base that seemed miles from where she had started. It was only after the threesome had finished the arduous job that they took a moment to talk.

“Who would do such a thing? ” Bess said as she hurried to change. “Not Rosalind, I’m sure.”

“You never know, ” Nancy said thoughtfully, remembering Rosalind’s connection with Millington. But since the alterations turned out to be done properly, she concluded that Bess was probably right.

“Well, somebody didn’t want us to go to the Crystal Party tonight, ” George said, combing her hair as quickly as she could.

“But whoever it was didn’t count on three fine seamstresses.” Aunt Eloise laughed.

The girls paraded in front of her, bringing a sigh of contentment from the woman.

“Now that’s how I like to see you all—going off to a lovely party, ” she said. “No dangerous mission, I hope.” There was a tone of uncertainty in her voice.

“As long as we stick together, ” Nancy assured her, “we’ll be okay.”

“Uh-oh, ” Aunt Eloise said. “Does that mean you do expect trouble? ”

“I don’t expect anything, ” the girl detective said, winking. “‘Bye.”

When the trio arrived at the hall where the party was being held, they were completely awestruck by the decorations. Fine, dainty snowflakes and crystal stars hung from the ceiling that overlooked an array of birch trees with silvery branches. Mirrors on dinner tables glowed from candlelit centerpieces that carried out the winter theme.

“It’s a fairyland, ” Nancy said, as women in stunning evening clothes and men in tuxedos mingled animatedly.

“There’s Mr. Reese, ” Bess commented, “and that must be his wife. Wow! ”

The designer spotted the girls at the same time and came forward, introducing Sheila.

“She left our house in Florida just to come up for this party, ” he said, explaining the woman’s deep tan.

“Richard has told me a lot about you all, ” she smiled, her teeth as glistening as her sleek, white gown.

But before the conversation could continue, another woman called her away, leaving Mr. Reese with the three girls. He led them through the crowd, pausing to make introductions.

“I know Reese creations when I see them, ” declared one man, handsome with a long cap of white hair. “Aren’t you going to tell me who these mystery ladies are, Richard? ”

But the designer pretended not to hear and joined two other men less than a foot away. The girls, however, hung back to talk with the white-haired man. They practically froze when he announced his name.

“I’m Arnaud Hans, ” he said.

The designer under whose name the Reese gowns had appeared in the Chalmers catalog! No wonder Mr. Reese had ignored him!

When the young detectives finally gave their names, Hans seemed to recognize Nancy’s.

“I’ve been hearing about you, Miss Drew, that you are doing investigative work for Richard. Well, I want to go on record that I didn’t steal anything from him. He blasted me on the phone the other day, claiming that I had taken some of his spring designs and sold them to Chalmers. It’s not true and I can prove it. I have dated copies of every sketch! ”

Nancy was careful not to say too much, but conceded that it was not impossible for the men to have come up with the same ideas.

“Personally, I don’t think Millington stole anything from him, either, ” Hans went on. “Other people simply created similar designs before Reese did and he’s angry about it. That’s all. His pride and ego are hurt because he knows he’s slipping.”

“I don’t think he’s slipping at all, ” Bess said in Mr. Reese’s defense. “I love this dress.”

“Yes, well, it is pretty, but I think it’s last year‘s, ” Hans replied maliciously.

The discussion ended abruptly as Nancy edged the girls away.

“Where are we going? ” Bess asked.

“To see Russell Kaiser, ” Nancy said.

“Mr. Kaiser’s here? ” the cousins replied in astonishment.

“Not the real one, ” their friend whispered. “Ted Henri’s buddy, Pete Grover. Here he comes.”

When he saw the trio, he greeted them with enthusiasm. “What a pleasant surprise, ” he said.

“We read about the burglary, ” George put in.

“Burglary? ” the man stumbled.

“Yes, in your apartment, ” Bess said.

“Oh, oh, of course, that burglary.” He laughed nervously. “Let’s not talk about such a dreary subject, ” he said. “As a matter of fact, Nancy, I had planned to give you a call about the man who bought my uncle’s medallion at Speers.”

“You have a lead on him? ” Nancy inquired.

“No, ” the man replied. “But I wanted to find out if you knew anything.”

“Well, I haven’t spoken to him since that evening, ” Nancy said, “but I think I know where to find him.”

“You do? Oh-that’s wonderful. You must tell me all about him. But first let me talk to my friend Bob over there. I’ve been trying to get hold of him all evening. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

With that, Grover turned and was quickly swallowed up by the crowd. The girls were convinced he had just used his friend as an excuse and that he would try to avoid them for the rest of the evening.

A moment later Nancy caught sight of Grover behind a silver birch tree again. Another man in a tuxedo was with him. Wondering who he was, Nancy darted away from the cousins, but was stopped short by Sheila Reese’s long, brace leted arm.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry? ” the designer’s wife asked. “Come, I’d like you to meet some friends of ours.”

Nancy did not wish to appear rude, so she followed the woman to a table where her husband and another couple were seated. Bess and George had witnessed the diversion, and to Nancy’s relief, went to follow Grover instead. A few moments later, however, they joined the group at the table.

“We lost him, ” George whispered when they sat down.

“Don’t worry, ” Nancy whispered back. “At least you tried.”

Just then her elbow accidentally pushed against a glass of water and it fell.

“Oh! ” Nancy cried, quickly righting the glass, but not before several drops had trailed onto her lap. “Excuse me a moment, ” she said, popping up to go to a powder room, while Mr. Reese stared dishearteningly at the water mark on the precious skirt.

When Nancy emerged from the powder room, she did not return to the table right away. Instead, she wandered around until she finally saw Pete Grover and his companion again. Although their backs were to her, she could see their faces clearly in a panel of mirrors on the wall. The second man was Ted Henri, otherwise known as Chris Chavez! They were looking at their watches as if something were about to happen.

Nancy pulled as close as she could without being observed by either of them, and tried to overhear their conversation. The din of voices in the room, however, seemed louder than ever; and all she was able to catch was Gramercy Park and the number “11.” Did it refer to an address or to the time?

No further clarification came as the men were whisked onto the dance floor by two women friends. Nancy hurried back to the Reese table, but no one was there. She scanned the couples who were dancing but saw neither of her friends.

“Where are they? ” Nancy murmured, wishing she could tell Bess and George what she had learned.

But they seemed to have disappeared, and in less than twenty minutes it would be eleven o‘clock, the hour when Nancy might find the solution to the puzzle. Instantly, she made her decision. She hurried to the check room to get her wrap and left a detailed message for the cousins, then darted out into the street and hailed a taxi.

The snow that had fallen earlier had melted entirely, leaving only a light dampness underfoot, which Nancy appreciated as she reached Gramercy Park. She asked the driver to let her out in front of a building several doors away from Number 11, and stepped toward an opposite canopy.

There, in the glow of a waning moon and a street lamp, she fixed her eyes on Number 11. She noticed a shadowy figure in the second-floor windows. It moved out of sight, emerging shortly in the doorway downstairs.

It was Rosalind, Mr. Reese’s stylist!