Ned’s Story

While Nancy reached for the door handle, Bess and George leaped out of bed and pulled on their robes.

“Oh, Nancy.” Bess shivered nervously. She imagined that on the other side of the door was a big, burly police officer holding very large handcuffs.

To her amazement, though, it was only the night clerk. He smiled in a perfunctory manner.

“I am sorry to disturb you, ” he said in a heavy Italian accent, “but it seems that Andreoli, the gondolier—well, he told me you girls may be in some trouble.”

He searched Nancy’s face, then glanced at the others, waiting patiently for an answer.

“You’re right, ” Bess said impulsively, and felt a sharp nudge from her cousin.

“On the contrary, ” George said, “someone else is going to be in trouble as soon as we find out who he is.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand, ” the clerk replied.

“It’s very simple, ” Nancy said and explained the details of what had just happened.

When she finished, the man released a long sigh. “I think perhaps it would be wiser if you told all of this to the police. Do you not agree? ” “Yes, I do. In fact, I plan to tell them everything tomorrow when we have an interpreter with us. The concierge said he would locate one to help us on another matter.”

“I see. Very well, then. Good night.”

As the clerk walked away, Nancy noticed that the bottoms of his pants legs were wet. Since it had not been raining, that seemed odd, and she mentioned her observation to the others.

“Maybe he fell into the canal.” Bess giggled, feeling greatly relieved that her imaginary policeman had proved otherwise.

Nancy rolled her eyes in mock disgust. “Let’s go to sleep, ” she said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a full day.”

In the morning, the three girls awoke to a steady downbeat of rain. They dressed more warmly than usual, putting light slickers over their clothes, then headed for the terrace where they seated themselves under the protective tarpaulin cover. Immediately, they noticed the name of the glass showroom that bore a large crack in its front window.

“Artistico Vetro, ” Nancy said, translating the words. “Artistic glass. I wonder who owns it.”

“Probably an old Venetian family, ” George replied, shifting her glance to the menu in front of her. “Prosciutto and melon. That sounds good.”

Bess wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather have yogurt, ” she said, “with honey, of course.”

“For a minute there, I thought you had finally decided to go on a diet! ” her slim, athletic cousin teased, then turned to Nancy. “What about you? What are you going to have this fine, misty morning? ”

“I don’t know yet. I’ve been studying that store across the canal.”

“Well, other than that hole in the window, ”

Bess commented, “I don’t see anything of interest.”

“Even so, I’d still like to investigate further, ” Nancy countered.

“If you want my advice, I think we should stay as far away from that place as possible, especially since we’re under suspicion for breaking into it! ” Bess declared. “Besides, we have lo see the boys.”

“We have to do more than that, ” George said glumly. “We have to free them, and that’s not going to be easy.”

Nancy concurred with a deep, impatient sigh as their waiter handed her an envelope. She opened it hastily, then let out a cry of disappointment. The message inside had almost been entirely obliterated by the rain!

“I can barely read it.” The girl detective moaned, passing it to her companions. “See if you can do any better.”

But they were just as stymied. They hurried through the meal, finishing it with an inquiry.

“Who gave you this note? ” Nancy asked the waiter.

“The concierge.”

Questioning the concierge, however, provided no additional information.

“All I can tell you, Miss Drew, is that the envelope was here at the desk when I returned from the back office, ” he said. “Now let me introduce you to your interpreter.”

He motioned to a young man who was seated on a bench opposite them.

“Antonio, these are the American ladies who require your assistance today, ” he said. “They need to go to the Questura Centrale.”

“St, ” the young man said with an engaging smile.

“Antonio is a student at the university, ” the concierge continued. “I think he will prove most helpful.”

When the young man heard about the Emerson boys’ predicament, he nodded sympathetically. “I will take you to police headquarters right away, ” he said. “Perhaps we can straighten things out. Follow me.”

He led them out of the hotel and through a maze of small streets called calli, whisking the girls to the Rialto Bridge and finally, the police station. There in the lobby stood a high desk flanked by smaller tables. A captain in uniform looked up and greeted them very pleasantly in Italian.

Antonio spoke to him briefly, then the group was ushered to a room at the end of a narrow corridor. Except for a table and a few chairs, it was empty.

“Please sit down, ” Antonio said, as the captain disappeared to get the prisoners.

None of the girls spoke, listening instead to the echo of their companion’s foot tapping on the tile floor.

“How much longer do we have to wait? ” Bess asked, but a minute later the Emerson students were brought into the room.

Instantly, it was filled with chatter and a deluge of questions from both sides that prompted the accompanying guard to clap his hands sternly. Antonio helped quiet the group, whispering to the officer who nodded back.

“You only have a little bit of time to talk, ” Antonio informed the Americans.

“In that case, ” Nancy said, “Ned, please repeat what you just told me. I especially want Antonio to hear this since he is going to help us get you out of here.”

Ned, whose clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them all night, smiled gratefully at the young man. “If the police hadn’t confiscated everything we brought with us, I could show you what they found, ” he said.

“Dave says you were stopped at Marco Polo Airport here in Venice, ” Bess interjected.

“That’s right, ” Ned replied. “We stepped off the plane, went to the baggage area, picked up our luggage, and went to the customs officer. He made us open everything. That surprised me because I’ve always gone through foreign check-ins very quickly. Not this time, though.

“When the guy looked in my small suitcase, I almost flipped. There was the most beautiful glass artpiece inside—”

“What was it? ” Bess interrupted, curiously. “It was an abstract figure of a horse with hooves shod in gold. The customs officer started to examine it. He called somebody else over as well. I tried to tell them it wasn’t mine, but nothing registered.”

“The fact is, ” Dave said, “that neither of the men spoke much English.”

“I told them I was traveling with friends, ” Ned said.

“And the minute he introduced us, ” Burt replied, “Dave and I were goners, too.”

“Look, we’ll figure out where that piece of glass came from, ” Bess declared, “and send it back where it belongs.”

“That’s just the problem, ” Nancy told her

friend, prompting Ned to finish his story.

“It broke into lots of little pieces, ” he said. “What? ” George gasped. “But how? ”

“When the customs people kept turning it, it slipped through their hands—”

“And splat? ” Burt said.

“Oh, how terrible! ” Bess cried, suddenly leaping out of her chair. “Well, then there’s no case, no evidence, no nothing.”

“On the contrary, ” Nancy said, “there’s a lot of circumstantial evidence.”

The guard who had been standing near the door now moved forward, signaling the end of the discussion. But before they left, the young detectives promised to do all they could to help the boys.

“Dad’s due back this evening, ” Nancy said, “so I’m going to call home very soon.”

“Sorry I messed up your trip, ” Ned answered bleakly.

“Don’t be silly. I’m happy you’re here—even if it is under lock and key! ” There was a trace of laughter in her voice that barely masked her concern. “See you later, ” Nancy said.

When the girls reached the lobby again, she asked Antonio to request a look at the evidence.

He spoke to the police captain for a moment but to Nancy’s chagrin, the officer was unwilling to show it to them.

“Tell him I’m a detective, Antonio, ” Nancy said.

“Your name? ” the captain replied.

“Nancy Drew.”

“Ah! ” he said, adding something in Italian and finally the name of the Gritti Palace Hotel. Nancy also thought she heard him refer to the gondolier, Andreoli.

I should have told the police what happened at the glass showroom the minute we arrived here, Nancy chided herself. She watched the captain study her and the other girls closely.

“Signorina, ” he said in a tone that forecast imminent doom, “I’m afraid you and these young ladies are also in trouble.”