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The Cap Clue






 

While the boys stood gaping at the crowd of dancers, Nancy, Bess, and George lay bound and gagged in their dark prison, their skin prickling with its damp chilliness. The hours had slipped away, and they wondered if their captors intended to abandon them forever!

I’ve got to get us out of here, Nancy said to herself, feeling the rope on her wrists cut deeper as she tried to work it loose.

Her companions shifted into slightly more comfortable positions: Bess sat against one wall and George leaned against the other with the mysterious opening in it. If only she could get to her feet to explore the rest of it!

She pressed her shoulders back and dug her toes into the floor beneath the blanket, pushing her weight upward. She made small progress before sliding down again, then repeated the exercise, getting no further than before.

Come on, George Fayne, where are those old judo muscles? she prodded herself.

She continued her attempts to stand up until the ache around her bound ankles became unbearable and she was forced to stop. Bess, on the other hand, had discovered a rough projection of wood at the base of the wall. She rubbed her wrist binding against it, snapping a few of the rope threads, and pressing hard to break the rest.

Although the girls’ captors had buried them in impenetrable darkness, they hadn’t taken away their ability to hear; and the sound of rope splitting over something sharp gave renewed hope for escape.

Nancy pulled herself next to George, groping for a nail or a piece of chipped wood, anything to help cut her bindings. George did the same but, finding nothing, determined to make one last attempt to get up.

She rapped her knuckles against the wall and hoped Nancy would understand that she needed her assistance.

She wants me to help anchor her, Nancy concluded, swinging her legs against George’s feet.

That’s it. Good, the other girl thought and pushed back and up again, allowing her toes to press into Nancy’s tightening muscle. Inch by inch she moved until at last she felt a latch.

She’s found something—a door handle perhaps! Nancy gasped excitedly. She dared not budge, however, waiting for the next signal.

George slid her body to one side and continued to hop back on her feet until she was able to stand, using the wall as her support. The latch, she soon discovered, was a few inches out of reach and she sighed unhappily. Nonetheless, the bindings on her ankles had loosened a little and she decided her exercise hadn’t been entirely in vain.

Bess, meanwhile, had tired of her own labor and gave Nancy a turn at the piece of wood. The young detective ran her rope cuff over it in a sawing motion, stopping only once when a twinge of pain shot through her arm. No doubt she would find deep welts in her wrists she decided, but put the thought out of her mind as the rope started to snap. Just like Bess’s, the threads broke a few at a time, then more, but the remaining ones were stubborn. They held fast like steel; and suddenly the young detective realized that only part of the cuff was rope. The rest was wire!

Now, for one of the few times in her life, Nancy felt beaten. She could never break wire over wood. She needed something stronger, like metal, and yet there was no way to communicate her discovery to George or Bess who had met the same obstacle.

 

Unaware of their friends’ predicament, the Emerson boys had ventured across the dance floor at the Hotel Excelsior. Ned in particular kept his eyes on the table where the titian- haired girl had recently sat down.

“All set? ” Burt asked his two companions.

He had noticed an attractive group of three girls, who seemed to be together, and walked toward them.

“American by any chance? ” Burt inquired, drawing giggles from two of them.

“Not quite, ” the third one answered a bit disdainfully. “I’m from London, and they’re from Austria.”

“Well, ” Burt went on clearing his throat. “I’d like to introduce myself and my friends.”

“We’re very happy to meet you, ” the blondest girl replied. “My name is Helga Doleschal and this is Elke Schneider.”

“I’m Christine Mott, ” the Londoner said.

As the boys told about their recent trip through Vienna, the conversation rippled with laughter until everyone rose to dance. Ned swung his partner toward the end of the room hoping to catch Nancy’s eyes, but at the same instant, he realized that her table was now empty! He scanned the dancers, but she wasn’t among them.

“Is something wrong? ” Christine asked.

“Huh? Oh, no, ” Ned answered in the midst of his distraction. He wondered, though, how he and the other boys could have missed seeing Nancy and the cousins leave; and when the music finally stopped, he whispered to Burt and Dave.

“Obviously they’re gone. Maybe we ought to go too, ” Ned said. “I’m bushed, anyway.”

“Me too, ” Dave said. He muffled a yawn. “It’s not everyday in the year I get to swim in a canal! ”

“You—swim in canal? ” Helga asked. “I did not think you were permitted to do such a thing.

“You’re not, ” Burt laughed, “but he doesn’t understand Italian warning signs.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, ” the girl replied in mock disapproval. “Perhaps you will have to stay in Venice until you learn. We’ll be here at least through Saturday.”

“So if we need a few lessons in Italian, can we depend on you to teach us? ” Dave grinned.

“Senza dubbio. By all means.”

The young men offered a few more pleasantries, then waved good-bye, wondering if their American girl friends had already returned to the Gritti Palace. Considering the lateness of the hour, it seemed more than likely.

“Shall we call them when we get in? ” Burt asked.

“Why not? ” Dave said, while Ned reserved his answer until they were down the corridor.

“Actually, I’d like to check out that bridge, ” he said.

“The one where the bomb came from? ” Dave replied.

“Yup.”

“But I thought you were tired.”

“Well, let’s say the brisk night air just woke me up.”

As a matter of fact, Ned had been itching to investigate the area but had decided not to until he had tracked down Nancy. Now he was ready to begin again, and led his two companions out of the hotel to the street.

He tore down a flight of steps and cut through clumps of oleander into an empty garden that trailed along the small canal.

“Suppose we get arrested for trespassing? ” Dave asked Ned.

“Suppose we do? ” Burt said. “It’s better than being accused of theft.”

Ned chuckled. “I hope you both realize you’re beginning to make me feel guilty over absolutely nothing, ” he went on, and pushed beyond the dimness of a few lamp posts.

The threesome now walked evenly toward the bridge, looking for any evidence of the person who had thrown the explosive.

“I’m sure it was homemade, ” Ned murmured.

“Lucky for us it wasn’t designed to go off in water, ” said Burt, when he spotted a dark felt cap on the ground.

He dived for it, noticing footprints as well. They were fairly small and close together, which implied they belonged to someone shorter than either of the boys.

“Let me see the cap, ” Ned requested, peering at a well-worn label inside. “Didn’t we pass a store with this name? ”

He held it in front of Dave and Burt.

“Yes, on the way to the Gritti, I think, ” Dave replied, “but there are probably hundreds of people who own hats like this one.”

“And I’m sure the proprietor won’t remember who bought it, ” Burt concurred.

“Even so, I’m going to hang onto it, ” Ned remarked. “One thing Nancy taught me is never take any clue for granted.”

“I’m not convinced that bomb was strictly intended for us, ” Burt said.

“Well, if it wasn’t, then who was it meant for? ” Dave asked.

“Maybe our boat driver, ” Burt suggested.

“I doubt it, ” Ned said.

“But why would anybody want to hurt us? ” Burt asked.

“I don’t know, ” Dave replied. “Perhaps it’s all tied in with the trouble over that glass statue.”

“True, ” Ned said, “and I’d sure like to find out who masterminded that little frame-up.” “Wouldn’t we all, ” Burt declared, as the putting sound of a boat approached from the hotel. “Uh-oh, I think we just missed our ride back.” He and Dave had observed the boat schedule on the canal entrance to the Excelsior, and cast frowns at each other.

“There’ll be another one, ” Ned said confidently.

“No, there won’t, ” Dave answered. “Not until tomorrow morning.”

“Are you positive? ”

“Positive.”

“Oh, well, considering all that’s happened tonight—” Ned sighed. “I guess we ought to be glad it isn’t raining, too.”

With that, a flash of lightning cracked through the sky and small bullets of water trickled down the boys’ faces.

“See what I mean? ” the Emerson boy said, tossing his shoulders in disgust. “That takes care of our detective work! ”

 






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