Weird Intruders

A buzz of excitement filled the museum. Visitors milled about, staring in all directions. Some turned to query the nearest guard or attendant, but the museum employees seemed as startled as everyone else.

" What's happening, Nancy? " Bess exclaimed.

" I've no idea, " her friend admitted with a helpless shrug.

As suddenly as it had begun, the alarm bell stopped ringing. As the echoes died away, a calming voice spoke over the public-address system. " Ladies and gentlemen, this is the curator speaking. There is no need to leave the building, so please do not be alarmed. What you have just heard was a mistake—repeat, a mistake. The alarm bell went off accidentally.

We regret any inconvenience this may have caused, and we hope you will go on enjoying your public art museum as if nothing has happened. Thank you."

" Whew! That's a relief, " said George.

Nancy smiled and agreed, then asked, " Do you two want to look around while I go talk to the curator? "

" Okay, " Bess said eagerly. " We'll start in the Medieval and Renaissance rooms over there, and work our way around to Modern."

Nancy went up a broad, marble staircase that arose from the center hall of the museum. On the second floor, she made her way to a suite of offices at the rear of the building.

The balding, elderly curator, Mr. Gregory, rose from his desk to greet her as his secretary announced the pretty young sleuth.

" Nancy, how good of you to stop in! It's a pleasure to see you! "

" I certainly arrived at an exciting moment, " Nancy chuckled.

Mr. Gregory smiled ruefully. " Repairmen are testing and reconnecting the alarm system, which is how it happened to go off. So in a way it's related to your coming here this morning."

He invited her to have a chair and added, " How much do you know about our break-ins? "

" Only the bare facts, " Nancy replied. " There have been two, haven't there? "

" Yes, and the curious thing is that nothing was taken on either occasion."

" That is odd, " Nancy mused. " Are you sure they weren't just pranks? "

" Quite sure. The first time, our night watchman was violently attacked, and the same thing almost happened during the second break-in."

" Please tell me about them, Mr. Gregory."

The curator explained that, on the first occasion, the intruders were believed to have hidden in the public rest room just before closing time. This was indicated by cigarette ashes and a chewing-gum wrapper which were found on the tiled floor next morning, even though the rest room had been cleaned by a janitor at the end of the previous day.

" Later, after the staff had left, the intruders emerged and overpowered the night watchman. They left him tied and gagged."

" Do you have any idea what they did, or where they went, after tying up the watchman? " Nancy asked.

" At least part of the time they were in the basement storage area. We know that definitely, because things had been moved around."

Mr. Gregory said that because of the first break-in, he had alerted guards to search all rest-rooms extra carefully just before closing time.

Perhaps because of this precaution, the intruders resorted to other means for their second break-in.

" The alarm system was tampered with. Police Chief McGinnis said it looked like the work of professional burglars."

" But again nothing was taken? " put in Nancy.

" Not as far as we could determine. However, soon after midnight, the watchman thought he heard noises in the basement. When he entered the storage area to investigate, a stack of crates toppled over. He could have been badly hurt. As it was, he suffered a bruised and sprained shoulder. We think the accident was contrived, and that the intruders escaped while this was happening."

As Nancy pondered what Mr. Gregory had just told her, she noticed a large, framed photograph hanging near his desk. It showed several people standing on the front steps of the museum. From their old-fashioned clothing and the slight fading and yellowing of the picture, it appeared to have been taken many years ago.

A hand-lettered inscription at the bottom of the photograph read: Curator and Members of the Duval Family at the Opening of the River Heights Art Museum, 1893.

" The Duval family! " Nancy exclaimed in surprise. " Are they connected with this museum in some way? "

" Oh yes, indeed. They donated a great deal of money to help build it. In fact, they were moving spirits in founding the museum."

Nancy could not help being struck by the odd coincidence—that just when she was investigating a mysterious letter written by one of the Duvals, unexplained break-ins should occur at a museum endowed by the same family.

Or was it no more than that, a mere coincidence?

" Tell me, Mr. Gregory, " Nancy asked on a sudden impulse, " do you know anything about a Miss Louise Duval? "

" Louise Duval? " The curator frowned for a moment, then settled back in his chair with a reminiscent smile. " Yes, as a matter of fact I do. She's dead now, of course, but when I first came to work here, I recall the man who was then chief curator telling me about a tiff he'd had with the old lady."

Mr. Gregory related that when the River Heights Art Museum had first opened, the Duval family had contributed an oil painting as a starter item for the museum's collection.

" The painting was authentically old, mind you, but of no great artistic value. It hung in the museum throughout the first half of this century, but was finally banished to a storeroom along with other less important art works that we have no room to display. Unfortunately, Miss Duval became incensed when she heard this."

" What happened? " Nancy inquired keenly.

Mr. Gregory shrugged. " She protested very emphatically, but the curator stood firm. He told me that he thought she intended to consult some outside art expert and try to prove that the painting was important enough to keep on display. But she died later that fall, I'm sorry to say, so nothing more was heard on the subject."

Nancy was intrigued. If Miss Duval had passed away soon afterward, this meant that the incident Mr. Gregory described must have taken place the same year that she wrote her mysterious letter to Pierre's grandfather.

And perhaps the painting he referred to was the subject of the research that Miss Duval's maid had mentioned!

" Would it be possible to see that painting, Mr. Gregory? " Nancy asked. " It may be connected with another case I'm working on."

" Of course. But I'm afraid it may take a while to locate it. I'll have one of my staff check it out and let you know when you can view it."

Nancy thanked the curator and promised to apply her detective skills to the mystery of the puzzling break-ins.

When she returned to the main floor of the museum, she found Bess and George talking to a handsome young man in the room where modern works of art were displayed.

" This is Lee Talbot, Nancy, " said George Fayne.

" He won first prize at the Riverview Art Show! " Bess added enthusiastically.

" Oh yes, I heard about that." Nancy smiled as he shook her hand. " Congratulations! "

" Thanks. Too bad you girls weren't there to see the award ceremony."

The young man was tall, slim, and casually yet trendily dressed in a cable-knit Irish fisherman's sweater and designer jeans. From her breathless manner and the admiring way her eyes dwelt on him, Bess was clearly very much aware of Lee Talbot's wavy-haired good looks. And he, in turn, seemed to enjoy being the center of attention.

" Was it a painting that won the prize? " Nancy asked him politely.

" Yes, I called it Feline Still Life! '

" A memorable composition, " said a mocking voice on Nancy's left.

She and her companions turned and saw a red-haired man in a corduroy jacket, sport shirt, and slacks. Nancy recognized him as Peter Worden, a reporter who wrote on entertainment and art events for the River Heights Record. He had spoken rather sarcastically, and Lee Talbot responded with an angry scowl. " Nobody asked your opinion, Worden! " " I'm not surprised. You know how I feel about overdoing a subject, " the reporter said coolly. " Looking around for fresh material, are you? "

At this remark, Lee Talbot's face flamed with rage. He doubled up his fists and lunged at the reporter!