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Strange Behavior. Ned leaped to his feet, causing the gondola to tilt sideways while he removed his jacket.






 

Ned leaped to his feet, causing the gondola to tilt sideways while he removed his jacket.

“What are you doing, Ned? ” Nancy cried while their gondolier poured out a warning.

“Sit down, sit down, ” he shouted in Italian.

“Ned, please, ” Nancy added.

“But you—” her friend started to say, prompting the girl to repeat her plea.

“I didn’t mean for you to swim to our destination, ” she said, relieved when he was seated once again. “As for the duchessa... well, I’ll just say a prayer for her that she’s all right.”

By now they had drifted further up the Grand Canal, passing graceful palaces built from the twelfth century to the present, their unlit facades a sad reminder of the powerful men and women and great artists who no longer lived there.

“I wouldn’t mind having my own personal palazzo, ” Dave remarked.

“Then, how about that one? ” Nancy asked pointing to a building with festive gold- trimmed poles in front of it. But when she saw that it was a museum, she retracted her suggestion. “I’m afraid the Guggenheim isn’t for sale.” She laughed.

“I wonder if they still keep a lion in the garden, ” Ned put in.

“A what? ” Nancy asked.

“A lion. The Guggenheim was originally called the Palazzo Venier Dei Leoni because, according to tradition, the Veniers had a pet lion.”

“Now I’ve heard everything, ” George commented, watching a preoccupied look slowly blossom in Nancy’s face.

The young detective had tried hard not to think about her awkward conversation with the duchessa, but it continued to haunt her. And if it weren’t for George’s sudden canting interruption, Nancy would not have hesitated to voice her thoughts aloud.

“‘And there afloat on the placid sea... lay a great city, ’” George said, recalling a passage from a book she had once read. “‘Gondolas were gliding swiftly hither and thither. Everywhere there was a hush.’”

“Bravo. Thank you, ” Bess cheered. “That was beautiful.”

“Well, don’t thank me. Thank Mark Twain.” George dimpled her cheeks in a smile. “He came to Venice sometime in the 1860s and wrote about it in Innocents Abroad.”

“You know, ” Nancy said, joining in the conversation, “according to tradition, the gondola evolved when the first people who lived on the lagoon got caught in high tide and had to paddle with their hands! ”

I hope we won’t have to do that! ” Bess exclaimed.

“Don’t worry, silly, ” George chided her. “This gondola is perfectly balanced, isn’t it, Nancy? ”

“Yes, they’re all built to very specific dimensions. Not only that, but the boat is made up of some two hundred and eighty pieces of wood. Altogether, they weigh over a thousand pounds! ”

“In other words, banish your fears, Bess.” Burt chortled. “Besides, see that iron piece on the prow? On top of those six teeth is the Doge’s hat. He’ll watch over you.”

“I’d rather Dave, ” the girl replied, mockingly defiant, as she coaxed his arm around her.

When the tour finally ended, the young people walked to the Gritti and Nancy called the Dandolo residence again. This time there was no answer.

“She must have gone out, ” Nancy said, worried.

“Or to bed, ” George pointed out. “It is late, you know.”

The young people managed to find a gondolier to take them across the canal. When they arrived at the duchessa s apartment, however, the door was securely locked and no one answered their insistent rings.

“She could be out. She could be sleeping, or she could be in trouble, ” Nancy concluded in distress.

“Personally, I think that you’re letting your imagination run away with you, ” Bess said. “I mean even though the phone message was a bit strange, it wasn’t a desperate cry for help either.”

“I agree, ” George said. “Anyway, it seems to me you ought to wait until morning and try to contact her again.”

Nancy did not answer, but hesitantly, she examined the lock.

“You can’t just break into someone’s apartment, ” Ned said, pulling her away.

“Okay. You’re right. Let’s go back to the Gritti, ” the girl sighed. “I just hope the duchessa will be able to tell me tomorrow what she was trying to say tonight.”

“How about coming to our pensione for breakfast? ” Ned suggested when they reached the other side of the canal. “It isn’t the Gritti, but it’s very comfortable and the food is quite good.”

“Sounds great! ” Bess said, accepting the invitation for everyone. “ Bye! ”

The girls awoke early, and Nancy made a notation to leave a message for her father should he call from Rome while she was out.

“Dad’s due in tonight, ” she told her friends,

“and I’m sure he’ll phone the minute he arrives.”

As she spoke, she picked up the receiver to dial the Dandolo residence. There were four long rings before anyone answered, then came a hello that temporarily startled the girl.

“Andreoli? ” she said, recognizing the deep-chested voice.

“Si.”

“This is Nancy Drew. Is the duchessa there? ”

“No. No… arrivederci."

“Wait... Andreoli, ” Nancy said, but the man had already clicked off the line. “I have to go over there right away, ” she announced immediately.

“What about breakfast? ” Bess asked. “Can’t you—"

“You go ahead without me, ” Nancy replied. “I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

“I’m coming with you, ” George decided. “Bess, how about you going to meet the boys? ” “Sure, ” Bess said. “But, are you sure you two will be all right? ”

“Don’t worry, ” Nancy said. “We’ll be fine.” Since Ned hadn’t called yet, Nancy gave Bess the pensione’s address and the trio parted company. Nancy and George said nothing, however, until they reached their destination. Then they knocked fiercely on the downstairs door.

“Hello! Anybody there? ” Nancy called out. To her relief, it finally opened, revealing Andreoli, the gondolier. His face was very pale, almost sickly, and there was no smile of greeting.

“The duchessa, where is she? ” Nancy asked.

“Not here, ” the man replied crisply before lapsing into Italian and making the girls’ eyebrows furrow quizzically.

The only word they understood was Murano, the largest island in the Venetian lagoon and the site of several glass-making factories, among them Artistico Vetro! Had the duchessa gone to visit Filippo’s father?

She must have, Nancy decided, but why so suddenly?

Unable to communicate her questions to Andreoli, she sensed an unexplained nervousness about him, possibly the result of his concern for the woman’s whereabouts. Whatever the reason, though, he pushed the door forward, indicating he had no more to say. But Nancy poised her hand against it.

“May we go upstairs? ” she asked on impulse. How do I say it in Italian? “Andreoli, di sopra.”

The gondolier hesitated, holding the door in place, then pulled it back slowly with great reluctance. He led the way up the wooden flight and stopped a few steps before the landing as if he had changed his mind. The girls, however, had already glimpsed the unexpected scene beyond the half-open door at the top. The drawers of the desk stood open, their contents strewn on the floor!

“What happened? ” Nancy asked, leaping past the gondolier.

He hurried after her and shook his head, spilling out an answer, which trailed after her as she darted from room to room to see if anything else was out of order. Satisfied that nothing was, she figured the intruder had found what he was looking for and departed quickly.

Knowing just how secretive the duchessa had been about her nephew’s disappearance, Nancy now understood Andreoli’s reluctance to show her the living room.

He’s probably afraid I’ll report the intrusion to the police, the girl decided, trying to assure the gondolier otherwise. But discussion with him proved hopeless, prompting her and

George to say good-bye quickly. They had not asked their boatman to wait for them so they headed for the landing-stage up the street.

Unlike previous sojourns on the vaporetto, there were fewer passengers onboard this time. Their eyes were attracted to the dappling of sunlight on the water while Nancy’s were only vaguely fixed. What had the intruder been searching for? she wondered, then the most obvious answer struck. A copy of the glass formula!

Of course! Why didn’t I think of that right away? Nancy thought as she and George hurried to the Pensione Seguso.

When they finally arrived, Ned asked them what had taken so long. “We were beginning to get worried, ” he said.

Nancy gulped in a deep breath and took the seat opposite him. “I’m sorry... really, ” she replied as a waiter quickly introduced the menu to her. Food, however, was the last thing on her mind; she ordered only one poached egg.

“Is that all you want? ” George asked, offering her the basket of rolls.

“I’m not very hungry this morning, ” Nancy said, and proceeded to tell about her visit with Andreoli. “It’s too bad Antonio wasn’t with us.”

“Who’s Antonio? ” Burt inquired, drawing a quick reminder from George about the student who had accompanied the girls on their visits to police headquarters.

“Oh... sorry for the interruption, Nancy. Please go on, ” the boy said. When she finished speaking, he and his Emerson friends exchanged glances.

“Do we foresee an unexpected trip to Murano? ” Ned asked.

“Yes, most definitely, ” Nancy answered. “It occurred to me that the duchessa might have followed the intruder there, but somehow I just can’t imagine it. She’s not exactly feeble, yet I would have thought Andreoli would have taken her.”

“Do you think she was kidnapped, too? ” Bess asked.

“Possibly.”

“Well, I suppose that we’ll be able to find a boat to take us to Murano right now, if you like, ” Ned said, but Nancy’s mind was on the night clerk whom she had seen in the window the previous evening.

“I have to make one small investigation first, ” she remarked with a glance at her watch. “I’m going to visit Scarpa’s apartment. Do you all want to wait for me here or shall I meet you somewhere? ”

“Why don’t we go with you? ” Ned suggested. “A whole group might be too conspicuous. It’s better if I go alone. I won’t be long, ” Nancy said, pausing. “How about meeting at one o’clock under the clock tower? You could line up a boat for Murano in the meantime.”

Before anyone could object, the girl stood up, kissed Ned lightly on the cheek, and dashed out of the dining room.

Using the restaurant Do Forni as her starting point, she wandered along the street looking at the names above the residents’ doorbells. To her chagrin, Scarpa was not among them.

“I’ll never find the building this way, ” she muttered to herself and went back to the gondolas stationed behind the restaurant.

Before stepping into one of them, she instructed the gondolier to take her through the narrow canal only. “Grand Canal—no, ” she added firmly.

“Si, signorina. No Grand Canal.”

Somehow, perhaps because of the lazy feeling created by the warmth of the day, the ride seemed particularly long to Nancy. They floated past a row of peeling brick buildings that melted into one another without distinction. But as the gondolier dug his oar under the bridge, two tigerish eyes sprang into view behind the elusive half-open window; and Nancy felt her blood race.

 






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