Taking a Risk

Carson Drew stared blankly into the expectant faces of his listeners, wondering why there was so much intense interest in his response. “Erminio Scarpa? ” he repeated. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember his first name offhand. It’s among my papers, I’m sure. But tell me about the man you mentioned.”

That was all the prompting Bess needed. She and George described their encounter with the night clerk, mostly emphasizing his insistence about accompanying Bess to the basilica.

“He and his cohorts just wanted to keep Nancy, George, and me out of their hair, ” Bess concluded.

As the discussion wore on, Nancy’s father became increasingly agitated. He asked several questions about the trip to Murano, finally proposing that they acquire a boat. “Or better yet a police escort, ” he said. “I noticed a phone on the street for just such emergencies, so if you’ll excuse me a moment—”

“We’ll wait right here, ” George said, watching him disappear under the arcade toward the darkened street.

“Nancy will have our hides for this, ” Bess said to the others, even though she was sure their course of action was the right one.

She had no idea that, only minutes before, the young detective and Ned had crawled under the long worktable in the glassmakers’ supply room, listening to the rustle of leaves outside in the still night air.

“Someone’s out there, ” Nancy whispered to the boy.

“Maybe more than one person, ” he added.

The couple lapsed into silence as the factory door swung open, admitting a flash of light that streamed across the floor to the kilns and crates of broken glass where it stopped. Then the light moved again and the two detectives heard more than one pair of footsteps.

“Just as I thought, ” Ned murmured, while Nancy leaned forward to follow the traveling light through the small window. “They’ll see you, ” her friend warned and drew the girl back.

Now the steps shuffled closer to the storeroom door, and the handle turned back and forth, causing Ned’s heart to thump high in his throat.

Good thing I locked it again, Nancy thought. But what if those men have a key?

She held her breath, praying for the handle to stop moving. Then, to her relief, it did; and she felt Ned relax beside her as he put a hand on her arm. The men, moreover, had begun to talk in a normal, conversational tone.

Too bad I didn’t take a course in Italian before I came here! Ned chided himself.

Nancy, on the other hand, concentrated hard on the words and, catching a few of them that she understood, was able to construe the discussion.

They don’t have a key for the storeroom door, she gathered. Someone else does. Someone named Alberini.

Then, before she could discern the rest of what was said, the men moved toward the window. They peered inside, exploring the table with the flashlight and, in its beam, picked up the hinged side of the trapdoor. The other end, from which the bar had been removed, stayed hidden under the broad darkness of the table.

Thank goodness, Nancy said to herself, now following the cone of light to the sacks of potash that stood nearby. Suddenly, she heard her name.

“Nancy Drew, ” one man had said unmistakably, among other words spoken in angry tones. A shiver of fright coursed through his listeners as he pounded his fist once on the small window. Had he seen them after all?

No, he’s only trying to vent his frustration, the girl concluded, because if he knew for a fact we were in here, he’d break the glass!

That thought, however, had not occurred to Ned, who was prepared to tackle either of the men if they so much as stepped inside the storeroom. But at last they left the factory.

“Come on, Ned, ” Nancy said, sliding out of their hiding place. “I want to see what’s below this floor.”

“You know something? ” Ned replied with a soft chuckle. “You really are amazing. My heart stopped beating about five minutes ago, and you’re ready to plunge right in again.”

“And to think I believed your heart never stopped beating for me, ” the young detective said lightly. “Come on.”

She focused the small flashlight on the finger hole that Ned pulled back on. “It’s stuck, ” he said, pretending it wouldn’t budge.

“What? ” Nancy gasped, disappointed; but seeing the grin on her friend’s face, she realized he was only joking.

He swung the panel wide, revealing a ladder that stretched beyond the dimming glow of Nancy’s flashlight to a room bathed in blackness.

“I’m afraid the batteries are ready to give out, ” she admitted sheepishly, “so I’d better try to save them.”

She flicked off the light once she had a firm foothold on the ladder and began to descend slowly, causing the boy to follow with equal caution. When they reached the bottom, Nancy turned the light on again, directing it to a full-length mirror that was obviously undergoing restoration.

But besides seeing her image and that of Ned’s, she noticed a canvas sack heaped over something. A white lacy collar surfaced in the light. Instantly, the girl detective turned, letting the beam fall directly on the heavy cloth. It was covering the inert form of the duchessa!

“Oh! ” Nancy cried, running toward the woman, who appeared to be asleep.

“She’s alive, isn’t she? ” Ned asked anxiously while his companion touched the figure. There was no reaction, however.

“Yes, but I think she’s been drugged, Ned.”

As she spoke, the duchessa let out a soft, pitiful cry much like that of a whimpering puppy. Ned lifted her frail body and carried it to the ladder.

Then, sighing, he realized that he would be unable to take the woman upstairs unless he put her over his shoulder, and even that would be risky given the narrowness of the opening overhead.

“I think we have a problem, ” he told Nancy, and pointed to their escape hatch.

“You’re right, ” she said, but could not come up with a solution.

“Maybe you or I ought to climb up and tell the boatman to get the police, ” Ned suggested.

“But what if somebody catches us leaving? ” Nancy responded, suddenly aware of the duchessa s eyes, which had begun to open ever so slightly. “Ned, put her down in that chair over there, ” she said.

He did, and Nancy curled her arm gently around the woman’s shoulder. “Who brought you here? ” she asked.

Maria Dandolo said something in Italian, then as if suddenly aware she had been addressed in English, she translated her words, weakly but with clarity.

" Two men."

“What are their names? ” Nancy pressed her.

“Alberini and—Scarpa.”

“Did they tell you where your nephew Filippo is? ” the girl continued.

“Oh, no—poor Filippo.” The woman moaned and began to weep piteously. “No—don’t hurt him, ” she pleaded.

“Duchessa, do you know where he is? ” Nancy repeated with an intensity and firmness that ended the crying.

“No. Anyway, I wouldn’t believe whatever Mr. Alberini said.”

There was another long, intolerable pause that made Nancy wonder if the woman had somehow hidden the answer in the recesses of her mind, vehemently refusing to accept it.

“Oh, please, Duchessa, it’s very important that you tell me. I want to help you, ” Nancy said slowly. “I want to find Filippo.”

But again the woman moaned uncontrollably. “It’s no use, Ned, ” Nancy remarked in despair.

“Well, just tell me what you want to do. Other than my original idea, I can’t think of a thing.” Nancy, however, began questioning the duchessa once more.

“Are the men going to take you to see your nephew? ” she asked.

“They promised me they would if—”

“If what? ” the young detective prompted her. “If I give them the formula.”

“Is that why you came here to the factory in the first place? ”

“Yes.”

Nancy then recalled the seeming intrusion at the woman’s apartment on San Gregorio. Papers had been pulled from the desk and strewn everywhere. Had Nancy’s first deduction been wrong about an intruder? Wasn’t it more likely that the duchessa had finally succumbed to the kidnappers’ threats and searched frantically for her own copy of the formula?

When she didn’t find it she came to Murano! Nancy thought. “What happened to your own copy of the formula? ” she blurted out to Ned’s surprise.

“I don’t know. I could not find it in my desk.”

“Did you find another copy? ” the young detective went on. “Here, in the storage room, I mean.”

“No.”

Nancy sipped in another long breath. “Did the men say they’d be back to see you? ”

“Yes, ” the duchessa said, her voice now almost inaudible. “Then—they made me call you. They said they would harm Filippo if I refused. I’m sorry, Nancy—so—sorry—” With that, she sank back exhausted and inert once again.

“Pretty clever plan, ” Nancy said. “Our two friends probably expected to catch me on their second visit. Perhaps I shouldn’t disappoint them! ”