The Brass Idol Mystery

On her first flight to exotic India, an adventure in itself,

Vicki Barr, attractive stewardess with Worldwide Airlines,
steps into a mystery immediately upon her arrival.
Who is the excited, publicity-seeking young woman at
Palam Airport in New Delhi? What is the secret of the small
idol Vicki purchases as a souvenir for her good friend Jack
Dillon Smith? Why are suspicious-looking men watching
the brassware shop in the bazaar district where Vicki
purchases the idol?
These and other puzzling questions remain unanswered
until Vicki returns to New York, only to find that mystery
has arrived ahead of her. She and Jack Dillon Smith, a
skilled private investigator, tackle the perplexing case from
every angle and uncover some startling clues.
Throughout Vickis adventures there is a chain of inter-
national intrigue in which the goddess of luck plays a
deciding role. But whether luck is with her or against her,
the pretty stewardess cannot tell, until crossed trails bring
her the very facts she seeks. Even then, the dramatic out-
come hangs in the balance, with Vicki making one of the
most daring decisions of her thrilling career.







THE VICKI BARR AIR STEWARDESS SERIES


Silver Wings for Vicki
Vicki Finds the Answer
The Hidden Valley Mystery
The Secret of Magnolia Manor
The Clue of the Broken Blossom
Behind the White Veil
The Mystery at Hartwood House
Peril Over the Airport
The Mystery of the Vanishing Lady
The Search for the Missing Twin
The Ghost at the Waterfall
The Clue of the Gold Coin
The Silver Ring Mystery
The Clue of the Carved Ruby
The Mystery of Flight 908
The Brass Idol Mystery
















THE VICKI BARR AIR STEWARDESS SERIES

________________________________________________________

THE BRASS
IDOL MYSTERY


BY HELEN WELLS

________________________________________________________

















GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
New York

GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC., 1964

All Rights Reserved

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS
________________________________________________________




CHAPTER PAGE
I FLIGHT TO INDIA 1
II THE GIRL AT THE AIRPORT 12
III RAM SARRAFS SHOP 24
IV VICKI MEETS LAKSHMI 37
V TRAILS CROSS 50
VI FACTS COME OUT 60
VII BACK IN NEW YORK 74
VIII A WEIRD INTRUDER 86
IX THE IDOL VANISHES 97
X VICKI SEEKS A CLUE 110
XI AT THE BENGALI CAF 120
XII VICKI HAS DOUBTS 130
XIII THE ANTIQUE TRAIL 142
XIV VICKI LISTENS IN 152
XV TRAPPED! 163
XVI THE RIDDLE SOLVED 178





1



CHAPTER I

Flight to India



Vicki Barr, trim in her Worldwide uniform, looked
back as the great jetliner took off from Khalde
Airport in Beirut, bound for Teheran, the capital of
Iran. Vickis sigh of regret was lost in the noise of
the jets, but Sara Nicholas, her teammate in the
economy section, looked up from her manifest. She
raised a quizzical eyebrow as she noted Vickis
pensive expression.
Its a pretty city, Beirut, commented Sara, also
eying the white buildings that shone in the afternoon
sun, with a picturesque harbor beyond. But Ive
never known you to go sentimental over it before.
Vicki looked up with a quick smile as she
snapped from her brief moodiness. Beneath her ash-
blond hair, her blue eyes sparkled with the exact hue
of the Mediterranean Sea that Sara saw stretching
off beyond the Beirut harbor.
Its always a letdown, declared Vicki, whether
we fly east from Beirut or Ankara. Nothing to look


2

forward to, except the same old Teheran.
Ill admit theres not much we can do or see
there, said Sara, with only one nights layover,
though Teheran is nice enough if you have time to
spend. But cheer up, well be flying west again
tomorrow.
Thats just the trouble, Vicki replied, her smile
fading slightly. I want to keep flying on east, in-
stead of making another turnaround at Teheran.
There was no time now for Sara to ask why.
Announcements had to be made in different lan-
guages. Dinner had to be served during the two-and-
a-half-hour hop from Beirut to Teheran, with an
unusual variety of meals required because of the
different nationalities of the passengers and their
corresponding tastes. Most of the passengers were
bound for destinations beyond Teheran. They spoke
of Karachi, Calcutta, Rangoon, Bangkok, Saigon,
Tokyoplaces that Vicki had not yet visited,
despite her extensive travels in the service of
Worldwide Airways.
The passengers also spoke in a variety of lan-
guages, but many of them talked English or French,
in which Vicki was quite fluent. Sara Nicholas,
though an American like Vicki, had been brought up
by relatives in the Near East, and was conversant
with various languages spoken there. But that was
only one reason why she had been teamed with


3

Vicki.
The two girls made a perfect pair in size, as well
as manner. Both looked fragile, but they were
surprisingly strong. Other stewardesses had trouble
keeping up with Vicki, but not Sara. She, too, was
another human dynamo in uniform; and together,
they could accomplish more in less time than any
other pair in Worldwides service.
They had just one point of contrast, which made
it all the better. Sara had dark, almost black hair,
with a natural sheen, and deep-brown eyes that
seemed meditative, even when they sparkled. Her
dark complexion was suited to her hair and eyes. No
one ever had any difficulty in telling Vicki and Sara
apart, and the fact that they were so different one
way, yet so alike in others, made a great impression
on the passengers.
The jetliner was well along on its hop before
Vicki and Sara found another chance to chat. As
usual, they resumed their conversation at the point
where they had dropped it.
So you want to go east, Sara declared. Kara-
chi, Calcutta, Rangoon, Bangkok, Saigon, Tokyo
she reeled off the cities where some of the pas-
sengers were boundit would be nice to fly to any
of those. Which would be your pick, Vicki?
None of them. Ill take New Delhi.
I forgot New Delhi! exclaimed Sara. Yes, it


4

probably is the most interesting of the lot. But cheer
up, Vicki. If you did go to New Delhi, youd only
have to fly back to Teheran.
That wouldnt matter; not if I could only go to
New Delhi.
Something in the blue-eyed sparkle that went
with Vickis faraway smile told Sara the whole
truth.
Its not something that you want to see in New
Delhi, Sara remarked. Its somebody. Why, of
course, it must be that tall, handsome, redheaded
friend of yours, the young man with the big smile,
Jack Dillon Smith. You told me that he goes every-
where on business, so I suspect that right now he
might be heading for New Delhi. Am I right?
Vicki nodded and Sara gave her a sympathetic
smile, showing that she recognized the depth of
Vickis disappointment. Then Sara left to gather up
some dinner trays, and Vicki was lost in her own
reflections.
A month ago Vicki had spent an evening in New
York with Jack Smith, whose urge for adventure
more than matched Vickis own. Jacks middle
name, Dillon, came from his mothers family. His
uncle, Roger Dillon, was in the curio and antique
business in New York.
He had sent Jack on trips to Mexico, Peru, and
Egypt, to bring back relics from the days of the


5

Aztecs, Incas, and the Pharaohs. Jack had ridden on
burros, on llamas, and on camels; but finally, as he
smilingly put it, he had given them all up and now
preferred air travel as die one and only way.
Curio hunting also had become a very small part
of Jacks work. Because of his travels and his
knowledge of foreign languages, Jack had become a
special investigator for insurance companies and
other organizations, helping them track down
international criminals. Such work, Vicki knew, was
becoming more and more important in the affairs of
a world so closely knit by modern air travel.
During dinner, Jack, in his quiet, confident way,
had stated where and when he hoped to meet Vicki
next. He had specified New Delhi and had set the
time a month ahead.
New Delhi! Vicki had almost wailed at mention
of the name. Why, thats impossible. Oh, how I
only wish I could!
But its only one hop beyond Teheran, Jack had
reminded her, and you fly there often.
But we change crews at Teheran and come right
back. New Delhi! You might as well have said the
moon!
Why not? Perhaps that will be the next stop for
some of these jetliners, the way theyve stepped
them up.
With that bit of banter, Jack had changed the


6

subject. Now, although Vicki had decided to forget
it, she was thinking again of New Delhi and the
dismal fact that she would not be meeting Jack
there, even if he did arrive as he had planned.
The pursers voice came over the intercom, end-
ing Vickis reverie, with the announcement that they
were approaching Teheran. The signs were flashing
Fasten Seat Belts, and Vicki, like the other
stewardesses, was interpreting the order to the few
passengers who might not understand it. Once sure
that the order was fully obeyed, Vicki fastened her
own seat belt and watched the lights of Teheran
twinkling below. The glowing airport welcomed
them and they touched down almost before Vicki
realized it, marking the end of a flight that Vicki had
once regarded as fantastic, but now accepted as
routine.
There was one more routine to be completed: a
checking of the passengers as they departed from the
plane, and finally, the plane itself. By the time that
was finished, Vicki was tired, looking forward to a
good nights rest, though it was only early evening
by Teheran time. They had been gaining hours
constantly on their flight from west to east. Sara,
who was to share her room at the Embassy Hotel,
also was eager to make the six-mile trip from the
airport and get some sleep before their early-
morning westward flight.


7

Then, at the last moment, a courteous airport
attendant arrived and halted them with the inquiry,
Miss Vicki Barr? At Vickis nod, he added, Will
you please see the supervisor right away. Very
important.
Oh, no, Vicki groaned. She turned to Sara. I
hope I didnt overlook something, or make a mistake
in protocol or what-have-you
Lets hope not, Sara said. Ill keep the crew
car waiting and my fingers crossed.
At the office Miss De Grasse, the supervisor, did
not lose a moment in stating the reason for the
summons.
Well be needing you for special duty, Miss
Barr, she said. Theres a new flight scheduled for
tomorrow, leaving Teheran at noon. They need an
extra stewardess from here to New Delhi. There will
be a crew change there, so you will have a layover
of a few days until you can be assigned to a return
flight.
Vickis eyes opened wide in surprise. Here, in
this land of fancy, her wish had been realized. She
felt as if a magic carpet had materialized from the
pages of The Arabian Nights to whisk her to her
goalNew Delhi. She laughed gaily at the thought,
for most certainly the trip would be faster and more
comfortable by jetliner.
Why, what is it, Miss Barr? the supervisor


8

asked, with a puzzled look.
Itsits really nothing, I guess. Sara and I were
just saying how nice it would be if we could get just
an hour more of sleep before tomorrows flight. And
now it looks as though Ive managed it. Vicki
grinned, but then her face grew sober. Oh, I do
hope Sara wont be too disappointed, she mur-
mured
Miss De Grasse smiled sympathetically. Well,
dont stretch that extra hour of sleep too long, she
said. You should be out here early for a briefing on
the new flight.
Far from being disappointed, Sara was overjoyed
that Vicki had been chosen instead of herself, for
Sara was already slated for a few days layover in
Paris and had made special plans for her stay there.
So the next morning, Vicki, in her blue uniform
and cap, and sprightly both in manner and mood,
was at Mehrabad Airport waiting to join the new
crew. When the jetliner arrived at eleven oclock,
Miss De Grasse introduced her to a fellow stew-
ardess, Sylvia Sutcliffe. Sylvia was an English girl
who had been born and educated in the Far East and
was acquainted with a variety of languages,
including Arabic and Hindi.
Sylvia and Vicki were to handle the economy-
class cabin, which meant serving lunch soon after
the take-off for New Delhi.


9

Vicki had already studied the new menu and had
learned other details of the flight so that she and
Sylvia were able to work as a team from the moment
they met. But though they were both capable and
efficient, Vicki and Sylvia were by no means a
natural pair.
Sylvia was taller than Vicki, and more abrupt in
manner, so that she looked angular and awkward in
comparison to Vicki. Sylvias hair was dark brown,
and her complexion, though probably fair, had a
noticeable tropical tan. Sylvias pronounced English
accent made her seem overprecise, but she had a
disarming, almost naive smile, and knew how to
display it at just the right moment. When at ease, she
became more graceful, her tall form assuming a
willowy pose that made her highly attractive.
As the jetliner shot into take-off, Vicki looked
northward to the Alborz Mountains, a mighty range
that rimmed the Teheran plateau and sloped down to
the Caspian Sea beyond. She had viewed those
summits on previous departures, but always the
plane had been heading westward. Now, headed
east, she was thrilled at having another wish come
true.
Though Vicki liked Jack Smith, it wasnt just her
missing the chance of meeting him in New Delhi
that had made her feel depressed. There would be
other times when she could see Jack, and he might


10

even have arranged his trip to cross Vickis path in
Teheran, brief though their meeting would have
been. Actually, Vicki felt a bit guilty, as she
admitted to herself, that Jacks mere mention of
New Delhi had fired her desire to visit India and that
she really would have been just as eager for this trip
whether or not Jack was to be there.
Still, the surprise of greeting Jack in New Delhi
promised an added zest; but Vicki was determined
not to be disappointed if he failed to arrive. So she
unfastened her seat belt and pitched into her job with
a vigor that won Sylvias complete admiration. Not
only did Vicki handle the special menus efficiently,
she picked up a few Arabic and Hindi phrases that
Sylvia used, and repeated them, as required, thus
gaining smiles from the passengers as well as
Sylvia. Back at the galley, Sylvia declared:
Its easy to see why they put you on the hop with
this crew. Youre like a new spark, Vicki! Its a
great help when so many passengers are becoming
impatient near the end of their flight.
I knew there was to be a crew change in New
Delhi, said Vicki, but arent most of the pas-
sengers going on?
Only a few. There werent many reservations
beyond New Delhi, because there, the flight is
picking up a lot of passengers bound for an inter-
national trade convention in Washington. They are


11

going east as part of a round-the-world flight.
Toward the end of the three-hour flight, the
jetliner was cruising at 30,000 feet above vast cloud
banks far below, that represented the barrier
mountains of northwest India. Then they were past
the clouds and coming to their landing at Palam
Airport, outside New Delhi. Vicki, watching
eagerly, caught her first glimpse of a vast city that
was truly fabulous in every sense of the term,
ranging from the ruins of ancient capitals to the most
modern of governmental centers.
This was India, an adventure in itself. Soon after
the jet landed, the new crew was taking over and
Vicki was accompanying Sylvia into the terminal
building of the highly modern Palam Airport. There,
adventure really awaited, as Vicki was to learn!


12



CHAPTER II

The Girl at the Airport



Seldom had Vicki seen so much excitement at an
airport. The terminal building was thronged with
people, many in colorful attire, all milling toward
one of the gates and chanting what seemed to be a
theme song.
Vicki, alarmed, turned to Sylvia and asked,
What is it? Some sort of a riot?
Just a typical Indian parting, Sylvia replied in
her usual placid manner. Half a million friends and
relatives come to see somebody off. Quite the usual
thing in New Delhi.
Vicki turned a sigh of relief into a light laugh.
Arent you underestimating it? she asked. I
would say that there is a full million. Just look how
they are gathering from every corner.
Sylvia looked and promptly changed her opinion.
You are right, Vicki. This is something specialor
somebody special. What is that song theyre
chanting?


13

Vicki listened and caught words that sounded like
Nay-doo Lah-theeNay-doo Lah-thee in
ceaseless repetition. But before she could ask for an
interpretation, Sylvia exclaimed:
Naidu Lathi! No wonder there is such a crowd.
Why, Naidu Lathi is the most-talked-about man in
all India. Just everybody wants to have a look at
him.
By just everybody Sylvia included herself, for
she began working over toward the gate, beckoning
Vicki to follow. A group of uniformed men who
were either police or security guards were trying to
keep order. The guards were pushing outward from
the center of the throng, but thanks to their
stewardess uniforms, Vicki and Sylvia gained a
vantage spot, for the guards simply let them by
while pushing back the teeming crowd.
The cry of Naidu Lathi grew louder and sud-
denly the man himself was in full sight. Vicki ex-
pected to see a tall, imposing figure in flowing robe
and turban. Instead, Naidu Lathi was squatty, of
medium height, and dressed like an American
businessman. But his whole bearing was pompous
and self-sufficient as he strode toward the gate,
which was being opened so that he and members of
his party could continue on to a chartered plane that
awaited them.
Naidu Lathi was close enough now for Vicki to


14

note the gleaming smile that he bestowed upon the
excited Indians who were bowing, and waving
eagerly. Then, as his eyes turned Vickis way, she
realized in a flash how artificial his pose really was.
Those glinting eyes were looking through everyone
they saw and the smile was fixed, to make people
think that it was meant for them. But it was meant
for nobody but Naidu Lathi himself, who was
smiling inwardly in self-conceit.
Vicki knew that instinctively, for she had dealt
with passengers who had assumed that all-important
manner. There was no sympathy in that glassy gaze
and frozen smile, but Naidu Lathi turned his
gleaming face from one person to another so
continually that all were mesmerized, except
perhaps a few others like Vicki.
The guards were now making way for what was
practically a triumphal march. Naidu Lathi spread
his wide lips in a still broader smile, one of disdain
for the stupid public who were so eager to gain his
favor, yet so willing to be herded back. He was at
the gate now, turning and raising his hands in
response to the increasing bows and the growing
babble of adulation. The guards were lax at that
moment, for the people were keeping their distance
as though bending to Naidu Lathis will.
Then the spell suddenly ended. A young woman,
who appeared to be either British or American,


15

broke through the cordon and dashed up to Naidu
Lathi as he was striking his pose at the gate. This
new admirer, Vicki noted with appraising eye, was
something of an arty type, for although she was
expensively dressed, her linen suit was rumpled and
her dark hair was disheveled, perhaps purposely so.
Her deep-set eyes and somewhat pudgy face showed
a determination matching that of Naidu Lathi.
Apparently the eager brunette wanted an auto-
graph, for she was brandishing a pad and pen at
Naidu Lathi, who accepted the situation in a calm,
tolerant mood. The guards, however, were dragging
the young woman back, as though dealing with a
fanatic. She was vigorously protesting, for above the
babble, Vicki heard her snap sharply at the guards:
Take your hands off me! At once!
The guards, challenged by a tone and a glare that
equaled Naidu Lathis arrogance, might have
complied, but a slender, darkish man suddenly
edged from the crowd and trained a camera on the
autograph seeker and the guards who clutched her.
Sylvia recognized the newcomer and exclaimed,
Thats Akbar, the news photographer! He takes
press pictures here at the airport. See how smart he
isand how quick he does his job.
Quick though Akbar was, the guards were
quicker. They didnt want him to take pictures of
their set-to with the angry young lady before they


16

hustled her off into the crowd. One guard thrust
himself between the camera and the group; another
jostled Akbar, trying to knock the camera from his
hands and make it appear accidental. But Akbar was
too fast for them. With a quick side step, he turned
his camera on Naidu Lathi, who promptly puffed to
full size and put on his most gleaming smile.



17

He is smart, Vicki declared. Akbar, I mean.
Akbar Chagla. Sylvia nodded. Thats his full
name. Yes, he is smart, getting Naidu Lathi to pose
for him. Now the guards wont bother him. Ohho!
Will you look at that! Sylvia exclaimed.

The guards had relaxed when Naidu Lathi did and
the persistent young woman was taking prompt
advantage of it. Forcefully she broke away and
charged on Naidu Lathi, waving her pad again.
Naidu Lathi raised his hands to ward off the woman,
and as he did, his smile changed. There was just


18

enough curl to his lips, just enough upthrust of his
jaw, to lift his well-feigned mask and show the ugly
nature behind it.
As the guards grabbed the girl, she was still
appealing to Naidu Lathi, who suddenly lost his
poise and angrily knocked the pad and pen from her
hands. The girl, in turn, swung her handbag at one of
the guards and it came open, spilling much of its
contents. Akbar was getting pictures and Naidu
Lathi was getting angrier, until finally, he was
through the gate, with a few of his party following
him, forming a protective screen. Guards gathered
up the articles and stuffed them into the handbag,
which they thrust in its owners arms as they rushed
her across the terminal.
When the gate clanged, cheers for Naidu Lathi
changed to jeers for the Western woman who had
annoyed the departing hero. Immediately the space
by the gate cleared, for part of the crowd swarmed
after the guards, who were hurrying the young
woman away. Vicki, trained to retrieve anything that
passengers might have dropped or forgotten on her
flights, saw some articles lying beside the gate. All
had apparently come from the spilled handbag and
Vicki rapidly gathered them up.
One item appeared to be valuable. It was a
brilliant pin with a circlet formed of alternating
pearls and tiny, sparkling sapphires, surrounding a


19

gold center with a monogram set with the same tiny
blue and white stones. The other articles were a
compact, a lipstick, and a printed business card. At
the moment Vicki did not give the card a second
glance, she was anxious to overtake the owner of the
jeweled pin. But by then the excited brunette was
gone from sight, along with the guards. The
admirers of Naidu Lathi, no longer restrained, were
completely on the loose, spreading in all directions.
Lets wangle our way out of this! Sylvia urged.
This mob must have been gathering all day, just to
see Naidu Lathi off. Why, VickiSylvia stared,
amazed to see Vicki bobbing up and down on
tiptoeswhatever in the world are you trying to
do?
I want to see over the heads of the crowd and
find out which way that girl went. She lost these.
Vicki displayed the articles that she had picked
up and Sylvia gave a surprised gasp when she saw
the resplendent pin. Then Sylvia was bobbing on
tiptoes too, and although taller than Vicki, she was
the first to give up.
Its no use, Vicki. You cant see any of the exits
and the guards probably got her out of here right
fast. If any of those people thought she was trying to
harm Naidu LathiSylvia shudderedwell, you
know how unruly mobs can get. So youd better tote
those things over to Lost and Found, where they


20

can keep them until the owner inquires for them.
That was good advice, but Vicki decided first to
check on passenger lists to see if the autograph
seeker had come into New Delhi on another flight.
The best clue was the monogrammed pin, which
bore three initials. One was definitely a W, another
was a P, but neither Vicki nor Sylvia could decide
whether the third was a B or an R. However, listings
of the days arrivals showed only a few names of
British and American women passengers; and none
of those corresponded with the initials on the pin.
The printed card offered another lead. It was
printed both in English and Hindi. Its English
wording stated:

RAM SARRAFANTIQUITIES

CHANDNI CHOWK

DELHI

Vicki showed the card to Sylvia, and suggested
that perhaps it would help them to find the owner.
Thats a big order, Vicki. Sylvia smiled. Most
of the bazaars and shops are on the Chandni Chowk,
or Silver Street as it is sometimes called. Still, it
shouldnt be too hard to find Ram Sarrafs shop
among them.
On the back of the card Vicki found a telephone


21

number, written in ink. She jotted down both the
name of the shop and the handwritten phone num-
ber. Then she turned in the card with the jeweled pin
and other items, on the chance that the card might
help the owner of the pin to identify herself. Sylvia,
meanwhile, was looking up the phone number of
Ram Sarraf, only to find it was not listed. Upon
hearing that, Vicki declared:
Then that cant be Ram Sarrafs number written
on the card. So the best thing is to call it and find out
whos it is. Maybe we can learn the name of the girl
who lost the pin.
With that in mind, Vicki went to a phone and
tried the number. It rang so long that Vicki decided
there would be no answer and was just about to hang
up when a mans voice answered in short-clipped
tones:
Hellohello. Who is this?
He pronounced hello like hay-low and is
this much like ease these, but the words at least
were in English and understandable.
Im calling from Palam Airport, Vicki said. I
just wanted to find out
Give me your name, please.
But my name doesnt matter. Im trying to find
out about someone elseabout a young lady who
was here at the airport
Tell me the name of the young lady.


22

But I dont know her name. Thats what I want
to find out
Call this number tomorrow, the voice inter-
rupted. But before you callthere was a mo-
ments hesitationyou must have lucksee me
you understand?
Vicki didnt understand, but she tried to act as
though she did. If I have luck, she parried, then I
see you
No, no. Dont see me. You have luckshe
me.
Lucksheme?
Vicki repeated the words, slowly and uncertainly,
hoping to make sure of them. The result, however,
was just the reverse. The speaker at the other end of
the line must have become suspicious, for he
suddenly snapped:
You must be calling wrong number!
With that, the man hung up. Vicki quickly said,
Hellohello, then realized that the line was really
dead. Momentarily, she thought that it could have
been a mistake; then, the fact that the man tried to
explain things, convinced her that he must have been
expecting a phone call from a girl or a woman.
Was there a link between the sudden termination
of this call and the incident of the excited brunette
who had wanted Naidu Lathis autograph? To
Vickis alert mind, the answer was probably yes, for


23

the number that she had called was on the card
dropped from the brunettes purse.
Lucksheme.
Vicki repeated these words slowly, then more
rapidly. They must have meant something to the
man at the other end, but his words, Wrong num-
ber, sounded like a cover-up on his part. Whatever
the real answer, Vicki had a strong feeling that she
had stepped into a mystery, immediately upon her
arrival here in India!


24



CHAPTER III

Ram Sarrafs Shop



By the time Vicki had decided just what to say if she
tried the phone again, Sylvia had joined her and was
urging her to hurry because a crew car was waiting
to take them into New Delhi.
Just give me one more minute, pleaded Vicki.
I was talking to that number, but someone hung up.
If I can get him again
Again Vicki tried the number. This time she got a
busy signal. Sylvia overheard the sound and said
impatiently:
So the wire is busy. Now, come along, or well
have to wait for another car. You can try that num-
ber later from the hotel.
The crowd in the air terminal was steadily thin-
ning. Outside, groups of people were boarding buses
and cars of various sizes and mounting flocks of
bicycles for the trip back into the city. There were
banners and placards galore, some in English, all
complimenting Naidu Lathi. As the girls rolled away


25

in the crew car, Vicki confessed to Sylvia:
I thought I was well briefed on India, with all its
politics and factions. I know the names of the top
government officials and the delegates to the United
Nations. But Naidu Lathi is someone totally new to
me. How did he crop up overnight?
He didnt, Sylvia told her with a smile. He has
been in business for a long while. I mean, really in
businessbecause that is what he doespromotes
trade for India.
Two pilots who were riding in the car immedi-
ately took up the subject of Naidu Lathi.
That is why he is so popular with the people,
one said. He has promised to make India one of the
great nations by pouring her products all over the
world and creating a bigger demand for them.
Whether he will or not is still a question.
He left for New York on that chartered plane,
the other pilot declared, and though his trip is
unofficial, it has the approval of the Indian govern-
ment. Naidu Lathi has certainly talked his way up to
the top bracket.
Perhaps that is why they are backing his trip,
observed the first man. They would rather have him
Sell India abroad than take over here. The more he
keeps his mind on business, the less hold he will
have on politics.
Such talk sounded unimportant to Vicki, once she


26

had gathered the main idea, for she was becoming
absorbed by the trip into New Delhi proper. It was a
comparatively short drive from Palam, but the scene
became increasingly beautiful as they reached the
city. Set off from broad, tree-lined avenues were
gardens ablaze with resplendent flowers of many
varieties. They swung past the governmental
buildings to the Rajpath, formerly called Kingsway,
where great processions were held.
From there, Vicki viewed the domed Rashtrapati
Shavan, the White House of India, which stood
beyond a great court, flanked by the North and
South buildings of the Central Secretariat, the
governments administrative offices. Then the car
was rolling through a network of boulevards, with
traffic circles forming a huge cobweb pattern that
caused Vicki to exclaim:
Why, its like Washington, D.C.the crowds
and the traffic!
Yes, and it has grown like Washington, one of
the pilots declared. They thought it would never
begin to fill up, but it did.
And is the weather like this all year round?
Unfortunately, no. This is just the beginning of
March. In another month or so, you will see these
boulevards deserted, with the pavement cooking at a
hundred and ten degreesand up.
With the loo making it even hotter, put in


27

Sylvia. Thats what they call the desert wind, the
loo. It gives me the shivers even to think of it,
though why it should I dont know, because it is all
sand and grit that feels like a blast of red-hot
cinders.
They reached Connaught Circus, New Delhis
huge, circular business center, and continued on to
their hotel. By then, someone had suggested that
they all have dinner at a restaurant in Delhi, the
older city adjoining the new capital. So as soon as
the girls reached their room, they changed from their
uniforms to street clothes, while Vicki told Sylvia
about the phone call at the airport, and the odd and
somewhat mysterious response she had received.
Judging from his accent, declared Vicki, the
man was probably a Hindu, but he spoke English
very plainly. Well, not too plainly, she amended,
because I thought he said luckseeme, but it
turned out to be lucksheme instead.
And that, decided Sylvia, sounds mighty close
to me.
It wasnt close enough for the man who heard
it, objected Vicki, unless it was too close. Maybe I
pronounced the words just right, but without making
sense. So he knew that I wasnt the person who
should have called.
That person might be the girl who dropped the
card, Sylvia commented.


28

That gives me an idea! Vicki exclaimed.
And what is that?
To call the number again, right now. Only this
time Ill reel off those words as if I knew what they
were all about.
They stopped at a phone in the lobby, and while
Vicki tried the number, she repeated the words
lucksheme, lucksheme in a casual, rapid
fashion. She paused while the phone was still ring-
ing, but when it ended abruptly, there was no voice
from the other end.
Vicki waited a few moments, then said, Hello. I
want to talk to you. About lucksheme
The receiver clicked at the other end, without a
word being spoken by anyone there.
He knew my voice, Vicki told Sylvia, while she
joggled the hook, then tried the number again.
This time there was a busy signal, indicating that
the man at the other end again was calling someone
else, or simply had the receiver off the hook. Vicki
waited a few minutes, then tried again. This time,
the phone simply continued to ring, leaving Vicki
still puzzled over what lucksheme might
mean. By then, it was time to leave for dinner, and
between them, Vicki and Sylvia decided not to
mention the mystery call to anyone, until they had a
chance to try to figure it out for themselves.
The dinner proved to be an event indeed. It began


29

with spiced pomegranate juice, followed by an
appetizer of Bombay duck, which turned out to be
sun-dried ocean fish, bhujia were fritters, pappadum
were bean wafers from Madras, and tukari were
India vegetables. Most tempting was a special Delhi
dish of tandoori chicken, oven-baked, which was a
meal in itself. It was followed by an amazing variety
of India desserts and sweets.
By the time the elaborate meal was ended, it was
too late to see any more of Delhi. Besides, Vicki and
Sylvia were too tired, even to feel like talking about
the strange telephone call. Back at the hotel, they
quickly turned in, and were soon asleep.
With morning, Vicki had a grand idea. It was to
go to the Chandni Chowk and find the shop of Ram
Sarraf to learn whatever they could.
Just by talking to Ram Sarraf, she suggested to
Sylvia, we might find out the girls name.
Ill go along with that, Sylvia replied, and
whats more, Ill go along with you. Or rather you
can come along with me. I know the Chandni
Chowk quite well.
Vicki tried the phone number before they started;
and again, there was no answer. Next, she made a
call to the airport and learned that no one had
inquired for the initialed pin. So Vicki and Sylvia
started on their way.
An imposing sight greeted them as they neared


30

the Chandni Chowk. It was the Jama Masjid, or
Great Mosque, a massive building of sandstone and
marble with bulbous domes and slender, towering
minarets.
Its like something from a dream, Vicki mur-
mured breathlessly. Why, it reminds me of pictures
I have seen of the famous Taj Mahal.
It should. Sylvia smiled. It was built by the
same man, the Emperor Shah Jahan.
Across a wide belt of green lawns beyond the
Great Mosque stood a widespread, oddly shaped
wall, its high, red sandstone sides studded with
occasional towers.
That is the Red Fort, Sylvia said. Shah Jahan
built his palace inside that enclosure. Much of it is
gone now, but some of it has been restored, and
there are other things to see. We can make a tour of
the Red Fort after we leave the Chandni Chowk.
The Chandni Chowk, a broad avenue, seventy-
five feet wide extended from a gateway of the Red
Fort through the old city of Delhi. Shah Jahan had
arranged it as a triumphal way along which his great
processions could march in and out of the palace.
The bazaar district was just opening up for the
days trade. Merchants were walking to their shops
and workers were alighting from buses. Cattle were
being driven to grazing grounds across the Jumna
River, and bathers were on their way to take a dip in


31

the stream itself. Already, tourists were thronging
the tiny holes-in-the-wall that served as shops.
Along the sidewalks, there were flower marts and
fruit vendors, even barbers shaving their customers.
Some merchants were weighing out candies and
others sweets; some were spreading silks and leather
goods in the street. Bullocks loaded with laundry
were nosing their way past temporary stands where
turbaned men were selling cooling drinks of varied
colors. Artisans were carving ivory, shaping clay
pots, and working on fine embroideries.
Yet busy though it was, the Chandni Chowk was
only the central part of the business district. There
were more stores and workshops along the side
streets and narrow alleys that led off from the main
avenue, and even the second floors of the buildings
had signs in English, Hindi, and Urdu, proclaiming
the names of merchants and their wares.
Finding Ram Sarraf in all those mazes and amid
such confusion seemed difficult to Vicki; but Sylvia
had a suggestion. She picked a large store called the
All-India Bazaar, which handled silver, brass-ware,
all sorts of jewelry, and embroidered cloths. As she
drew Vicki through the door, Sylvia confided:
This is a real tourist trap. They will talk English
in here and they wont mind telling us where to find
Ram Sarraf, because they will expect a commission
from Sarraf for sending us to him.


32

See what you can find out, Vicki suggested.
Meanwhile, Ill look around the jewelry counters
for initialed pins like the one the girl dropped at the
airport. I dont think Ill find one, because most
everything here is an Oriental pattern, but its worth
a try.
As Vicki suspected, none of the jewelry displays
had anything resembling the initialed pin. So she
looked for Sylvia and saw her over in a corner of the
bazaar, talking to a bearded man at a brass-ware
display. Vicki joined Sylvia there.
Ive found out about Ram Sarraf, Sylvia said.
His shop is in an alley just off the Chandni Chowk,
past the corner where we will see a leather-goods
factory. Ram Sarraf specializes in old brass. Thats
how this man knows him.
They turned to go out by the main door, but the
way was blocked by incoming customers. The
bearded man gestured to a side door.
That is a short way to the Chandni Chowk, he
said in smooth English. Remember, Mem-sahib, to
tell Ram Sarraf that Hassan sent you.
They stepped into a narrow alley, which led past
little shops to the Chandni Chowk, but Vicki was
utterly captivated when she looked the other way.
There, she saw a grilled iron gate with a courtyard
beyond. In the center of the court was a tinkling
marble fountain. Exquisitely carved doors were


33

visible beneath overhanging balconies with deli-
cately fashioned railings.
Whywhy The scene fairly took away
Vickis breath. Its so enchanting you would think
it came straight from Arabian Nights!
It probably did, rejoined Sylvia, but it has
been around a long time since. Thats one of the old
city mansions. There are still quite a few of them in
Delhi. But lets get along to Ram Sarrafs.
They continued along the Chandni Chowk until
they reached the leather factory. There, just around
the corner, was a window filled with antique
brassware, set back so far that most persons would
have failed to notice it. Over the door beside it was a
small sign: RAM SARRAF. To Vickis amazement,
a black-and-white bull was sprawled on the narrow
walk, almost blocking the entrance.
Dont bother that animal, Sylvia warned. Its
not that hes dangerous; he just happens to be sacred
and therefore shouldnt be disturbed.
As she spoke, Sylvia looked anxiously across the
broad Chandni Chowk and Vicki turned that way to
see a little group of Hindus watching the sacred bull.
Quick to notice anything unusual, Vicki had a
sudden suspicion that these men might have some
special purpose in being here. All were bearded and
wore colorful turbans, as well as striped robes that
were fancier and more conspicuous than any others


34



35

that Vicki had seen along the Chandni Chowk.
Then, Vicki was smiling at her suspicions when
she saw the bearded men turn away and begin to
chat among themselves. Probably they were simply
merchants of a similar type or caste. Naturally, they
would be concerned about the sacred bull, which
they probably felt should be treated with due
respect. So Vicki stepped carefully to one side and
drew Sylvia over to the store window. There, Vicki
studied the display of heavy antique urns, gongs,
bells, and other brass objects. None of them
especially intrigued her.
We really should buy something, Vicki de-
clared, if we hope to get Ram Sarraf talking about
his other customers. But theres no jewelry here and
nothing in old brass that we would want. She
paused, then suddenly exclaimed, I have an idea! I
promised Jack that someday when I was in India, I
would buy him an idol. Lets ask Ram Sarraf if he
has a brass idol!
A good idea, Sylvia agreed, but if he has one,
only offer him half what he asks for it!
Vicki turned toward the door of the shop, only to
catch herself as Sylvia fairly shrieked, Look out!
Dont stumble over the sacred bull!
Vicki had almost forgotten the blas creature, but
she managed to avoid it, even though it did not
budge. The girls glanced across the Chandni Chowk


36

to see what the effect was on the Hindus who wore
the gaudy robes. Apparently the bearded men
approved the courtesy shown the sacred bull, for
they turned and began to stroll away in different
directions.
A little bell jingled as the girls entered the shop,
and Vicki gave a sigh of relief, never realizing the
surprise that awaited her and the trouble it might
cause!


37



CHAPTER IV

Vicki Meets Lakshmi



Inside the shop, Vicki and Sylvia found themselves
surrounded by a fascinating yellow glow that
seemed like artificial sunlight. The reason for the
glow was immediately apparent: on every wall were
shelves and racks stacked with glittering brassware.
Even the lamps that illuminated the place were made
of brass. It was their gleam that produced the golden
shimmer, for the lamps were purposely placed
where the other brassware would reflect them.
Unlike the outdoor daylight, which had given a
garish glint to the brass articles in the window, this
artful illumination made Ram Sarrafs wares seem
all the more desirable. The only break in the rows of
shining shelves was in a rear corner, behind a little
counter. There, a hanging rug concealed a doorway;
but the cloth itself was of a golden weave that
matched the decor of the display shelves. It was
when a hand lifted the curtain that the girls first
noticed it and gave a mutual gasp.


38

Then a bland, bespectacled Hindu stepped from
behind the curtain and gave a bow of greeting as he
took his place behind the counter. He was wearing a
turban and a robe and both were yellow, to match
the surroundings. Sylvia was first to catch her breath
and ask:
You are Ram Sarraf?
The Hindu shopkeeper acknowledged his identity
with another bow.
Weve just come from the All-India Bazaar,
Sylvia continued. A gentleman named Hassan told
us how to get here.
I know Mr. Hassan well, Ram Sarraf assured
them in smoothly purred English. He sent you to
the right shop to buy fine brassware.
But we dont exactly want brassware, put in
Vicki, with a sudden inspiration. You see, we
learned about your shop through another girlan
American, like myself. She has dark, wavy hair, she
had one of your cards.
I give out many cards, Ram Sarraf said blandly.
Others are given out by people like Mr. Hassan. So
anyone might have my card. Also, many customers
come heresome while I am out. I do not
remember this lady that you mention. What is her
name, please?
Thats what we want to know, Vicki explained.
When we met herwell, there were a lot of other


39

people around so we didnt have a good chance to
talk to her. But she was wearing a beautiful pin, set
with pearls and sapphires. I thought maybe you
would remember that
Ram Sarraf shook his yellow-turbaned head. We
sell only brassware here.
Only brassware, repeated Vicki. Then she ex-
claimed, I know what I wanta brass idol!
A brass idol? Ram Sarraf shrugged. You dont
see any in the shop, do you?
No, but its the only thing I want. Surely you
must have one.
Let me go look.
Ram Sarraf went to the back room, giving Sylvia
a chance to whisper, Good work, Vicki. You found
out all you could about that girl at the airport.
Probably Ram Sarraf knows nothing about her.
By then, Ram Sarraf was returning with a brass
idol, an exquisite figurine, some fifteen inches tall,
of a Hindu goddess, standing on the open petals of a
lotus and holding a lotus flower in her hands. The
petals, the flower, the idols ornate costume, clear to
the high crown that the figure wore, were studded
with glass beads of many colors, cut like precious
gems, though they were too large to look real, and
lacked the sparkle of real gems. In spite of that, the
glittery combination of brass and glass was exactly
what Vicki wanted.


40

Ram Sarraf set the idol on the counter, and in the
subdued light, it did not look garish; it looked like a
fine piece of statuary.
Lakshmi, goddess of wealth and plenty, Ram
Sarraf explained. I should not sell her, because she
brings good luck to all shopkeepers. I should keep
her for the Diwali, or Feast of Lamps, on the New
Moon of Kartik. Then they light the dipas, the clay
lamps, to welcome Lakshmi. But by then, I will
have more statues of Lakshmi, but not as fine as
this. You are lucky to buy it, for it is a replica of a
very famous gold idol.
In that case, Vicki remarked, there must be
many more like it.
Not many. Ram Sarraf shook his head. This is
a copy of one that belongs with the crown jewels of
a maharajah, which are shown only at Diwali. A
copy of the Golden Lakshmi, covered with real
jewels, diamonds, emeralds, rubiesa true pigeons
blood ruby for its crown!worth many lakhs, each
lakh a hundred thousand rupees, maybe half a
million dollars in American money!
The doorbell jangled, but Vicki scarcely heard it.
Instead, Ram Sarrafs words were still ringing
through her mind. He had spoken first of Lakshmi
and then of lakhs, but his pronunciation of the two
words showed a striking difference. With Lakshmi
his a had sounded like ah, turning the first


41

syllable into lark. But with lakh he had
pronounced the a broadly, like the word lack.
Lark-shme, Vicki repeated, half-aloud. Lark-
shme
Ram Sarraf nodded as he talked on: Yes, half a
million dollars, maybe more! I should not sell
Lakshmi. He spoke as though the brass idol and its
glass beads were real gold and precious gems.
There are people who would be angry even to see a
replica taken from India. They are fanatics. They
might try to steal it. But since you ask for Lakshmi, I
must sell it. That is my rule. Take Lakshmi, for fifty
American dollars.
Vicki had caught the name Lakshmi more
clearly each time Ram Sarraf repeated it. Now,
under her breath, she pronounced it, very exactly:
Luk-shme; Luk-shme
It was close to lucksheme, the words that
the man had spoken over the phone. He had been
saying, Before you call tomorrow, you must have
Lakshmi. Vicki, unable to identify the name
Lakshmi, had failed to understand him. Now she
was sure he had meant this idol that Ram Sarraf
wanted to sell her.
Ram Sarraf was gesturing helplessly, as though
giving away a real gold idol. He turned appealingly
to Sylvia, then to the new customer. Vicki saw that
he was a well-dressed American of medium build,


42

with sleek black hair and sharply pointed features.
His deep-set eyes were shy and his lips formed an
apologetic smile. Apparently he knew Ram Sarraf
and didnt want to be used in driving a bargain. But
Vicki didnt let him become involved.
Fifty dollars! Vicki exclaimed. Why, I
wouldnt think of paying a cent over twenty-five!
Vicki was going on Sylvias advice to offer
half, though right now she was quite eager to
acquire the brass idol. She felt that Jack would
appreciate it all the more if there proved to be some
mystery about it. To Vickis surprise, Ram Sarraf
did not bargain further. He simply said: You have
offered twenty-five dollars for Lakshmi. I will take
it.
So Vicki began digging out the money, counting
it into Ram Sarrafs hand as he became truly con-
fidential.
Be very careful, Ram Sarraf warned, or some-
body may steal this idol, as I said. Wait while I wrap
it.
The shopkeeper picked up the idol and started
toward the back room, but halfway there he turned,
set the idol on the counter, and said, Ill leave
Lakshmi here while I find a box.
Since Ram Sarraf had taken Vickis money with
him, there was no getting out of the bargain. But as
Vicki waited, she asked anxiously, Do you think


43

someone might really try to steal the idol?
Vicki looked from Sylvia to the sleek-looking
American as she spoke and the sharp-faced man
suddenly lost his shyness. His words like his manner
were quick.
Ram Sarraf is right, he said. One never knows
whos a fanatic. Any servant in a hotel, even a man
on the street, might try to snatch it away from you. It
would be wise for you to mark it, now that it is your
property.
Mark it? echoed Vicki. Where?
Inside, of course. The man turned the idol over
and Vicki saw that like many statuettes, it was
hollow. The brass was quite thick, but the inside was
rough and greenish in contrast to the smooth-
lacquered outer surface.
I can scratch a mark there, all right, decided
Vicki, if Ram Sarraf will lend me a knife or
something
I wouldnt trust Ram Sarraf, the man said in an
undertone. He may have half a dozen idols in the
back room, probably with some of their glassware
missing. Its an old trick, showing a customer a good
one and pretending it is something special that cant
be duplicated. Ram Sarraf may try to switch this
idol. The time to mark it is right now.
By then, Sylvia had come to Vickis aid with a
nail file. While Vicki was scratching a big thin V on


44

the inside of the idol, the sleek-looking man peered
through the crack of the curtain to the rear room. He
turned suddenly and gestured warningly, giving
Vicki just enough time to slip the nail file back to
Sylvia and show her the mark that she had made.
Then Ram Sarraf came out of the rear room to find
the two girls innocently admiring the idol.
Ram Sarraf had brought a cardboard box, hardly
large enough to hold the idol when he pressed the
top down, so he blandly remarked, I will tie some
paper around it. Again, he went to the back room,
taking the box with the idol. Soon he returned,
bringing the wrapped idol. By then, of course, an
exchange could have been made; but Vicki, after
receiving the package, gave a knowing smile to the
sleek-looking American as she left.
Outside, Vicki told Sylvia, If Ram Sarraf did
change the idol, well find it out when we get back
to the hotel and look for the mark.
But why, Sylvia asked indulgently, should a
little old brass idol be that important?
I wouldnt know, replied Vicki, but I think its
what the man was talking about over the telephone.
When he said something about luck seeing
you?
What he said was lucksheme. Say it fast
and it sounds like Lakshmiwhich is the idols
name.


45

Vicki thumped the box emphatically and Sylvia
gave an excited gasp. Something that had seemed
trivial, now was shaping into a real mystery.
Perhaps Ram Sarraf thought somebody sent me
here to buy the idol! Vicki declared. In that case,
he wouldnt know that it was just by luck that I
happened to want something like it.
Just by luck, echoed Sylvia. So lets not spoil
our luck by tripping over sacred bulls or running
into some other trouble.
Sylvia looked about for the sacred bull, but it had
ambled away. Now, Vicki, also alert, recalled the
bearded men in striped robes who had watched them
from across the Chandni Chowk. Vicki looked in
that direction and was sure she saw just such a
figure glide from sight into a deep doorway.
Now as Vicki and Sylvia turned the corner and
retraced their way along the Chandni Chowk, Vicki
noted familiar figures in the passing throng.
Occasionally a bearded man would glance at the
girls as though he had caught a signal from behind
them; then he would turn and move in their
direction. Each bearded man who did so was attired
in a brightly striped robe that marked him as a
member of the group she had spotted before entering
Ram Sarraf s shop.
Dont look now, Vicki told Sylvia, but I think
that we are being followed. If we zigzag back and


46

forth, we may be able to tell.
Sylvia caught the idea instantly. Soon they were
crisscrossing the Chandni Chowk, first to one side,
then the other, pointing out some interesting sight.
They stopped to look at silks; they sampled and
bought odd-shaped confectionery weighed out for
them by a solemn, bearded Sikh; they paused to
inhale the fragrance of perfumes wafted from tiny
shops; they even stopped to taste strange tropical
fruits sold by a passing vendor. At times, they
retraced their course partwayall very naturally
giving them the chance to take side glances to see if
they were really being trailed.
Youre right, Sylvia breathed. Theyre the
men who were watching at Ram Sarraf sor others
who look just like them. I wonder what they want.
The idol, do you think? Remember what Ram
Sarraf said? Some fanatics would be angry if even a
replica was taken out of India?
But why would they think that you have the
brass idol in that box? asked Sylvia. You could
have bought many things at Ram Sarrafs, all about
that size.
Maybe Ram Sarraf gave them a signal. He may
be mixed up in this, Sylvia.
What will we do? Sylvia groaned. How can
we slip away from them?
What if we went to see the Red Fort?


47

No, theyd spot us going in and coming out. If
we went to the police and said we were followed,
those bearded men would simply deny it. The only
thing is to shake them off. But Id like to know
how!
I know how! Vicki had another of her quick
ideas. Lets get back to the All-India Bazaar, while
I keep tight hold on this package!
Sylvia was curious, but said nothing. She trusted
Vickis judgment. Vicki was only hoping that her
plan would work, for now, whichever way the girls
turned, it seemed that a bearded man in a striped
robe was watching them. So they quickened their
pace and reached the All-India Bazaar, now fairly
teeming with tourists. That suited Vicki perfectly.
Stay near the front, Vicki told Sylvia, until we
see a break. Just act as if we were shopping for
something, then cut through to Hassans counter.
The break came. Vicki exclaimed, Now! and
they pushed into the bazaar, where they were
swallowed by the human millrace. They left the
bearded men well behind and reached Hassans
counter, where he was too busy with customers to
notice them. But Sylvia shook her head when Vicki
started out through the side door.
Theyll be watching the side alleys as well as the
main entrance, Sylvia warned. Theres no way to
avoid them


48

Except this way! Vicki broke in triumphantly,
turning deeper into the alley. Through the gate into
the private garden!
But what if its locked?
Lets just hope it isnt!
Fortunately, the gate wasnt locked. Luckier still,
it had a lock on the inside, and Vicki quickly locked
the gate behind them. All was silent in the ancient
courtyard, except for the tinkling of the fountain.
And now, said Vicki, lets hope we can find a
way out.
One way offered itself, the carved door beneath
the picturesque balcony. Vicki tried the door and it
opened, disclosing an exquisite reception hall.
There, Vicki and Sylvia tiptoed across a floor
composed of marble slabs with designs that re-
sembled rugs. Past an archway beneath a curving
staircase, they saw another door, and opened it, to
find themselves in an outdoor passage on the other
side of the house.
Eagerly they hurried from the palatial residence
out to the next street. They kept threading a course
that led them away from the Chandni Chowk, until
they reached Queens Road near the Delhi railway
station. There, completely clear of the followers,
they found a taxi with a Sikh at the wheel. Soon the
girls were nearing their hotel.
By then, Vicki felt completely limp. Looking


49

back, she thought it all seemed so unrealfrom her
first sight of the Chandni Chowk to the golden glow
of Ram Sarrafs shop, to the slow-motion flight that
had ended with the race from the old mansion and
back to this reality. The only link was the box that
Vicki carried and it had gone limp, too, from the
way Vicki had so nervously crushed it.
When they reached the hotel, Vicki sighed with
relief. Ill go in first, with Lakshmi, she told
Sylvia, while you make sure that we are really
clear. Ill be waiting in the lobby.
Sylvia agreed and Vicki entered the lobby and
sank gratefully into a chair. She was still clutching
the package and watching, waiting for Sylvia, when
a hand fell upon her shoulder and a mans voice
spoke in a low solemn tone:
I will thank you, Mem-sahib, if you will turn
over that idol to me at once. I am its rightful
owner!


50



CHAPTER V

Trails Cross



A sharp gasp escaped from Vickis lips as a surge of
conflicting emotions swept over her, leaving her
tense and rigid.
How had she and Sylvia been tracked here?
Could someone have arrived here ahead of them?
Why all this fuss about an old brass idol? Incredible
that after all that happened she should be trapped
here, right in the lobby of her hotel! What should
she do?
Defiant and determined, ready to fight off this
enemy, she swung around, and instantly her fears
vanished.
Jack Smith was standing there, looking pleased
and wearing his broadest grin. But his expression
quickly changed to one of concern when he saw the
worried, tense look on Vickis face. Before she
could chide him for this practical joke, he hastened
to apologize.
Sorry, Vicki. I didnt mean to jolt you. Whats


51

up?
Oh, Jack, Im so glad youre here! Vicki ex-
claimed, clasping his hand warmly. But how
her eyes turned wonderingly from Jack to the
packagehow in the world
How did I guess you were carrying a brass
idol? Jack grinned. Thats easy. Im a detective,
remember?
I remember. Dont tell me you trailed me to the
shop where I bought the idol!
No. It wasnt that difficult, Jack said, shaking
his head. Just look at how youve scrunched that
package. I saw part of the idol through the opening,
when you were holding it toward the light. Jack
tilted the package in Vickis hands to get the exact
angle. You said you were going to buy me an idol,
so I guessed this was it. Thats why I claimed it.
Hope I was right.
You certainly were. Eagerly Vicki thrust the
package into Jacks hands. And its yours from
now onif you still want it after I tell you every-
thing thats happened.
Briefly, Vicki described the arrival at Palam
Airport, the excitement over Naidu Lathis de-
parture, the card that the brunette girl had dropped
along with the jeweled pin, and the strange phone
call. She told about this mornings trip to the
Chandni Chowk, the purchase of the Lakshmi


52

statuette, and how she and Sylvia had eluded the
men who had followed them.
As she talked, she untied the string and handed
the idol to Jack. He was studying it with an ap-
praising eye when Sylvia joined them, bringing
word that all was clear out front. Vicki made the
introductions and Sylvia confirmed the final details
of the story while Jack made a closer examination of
the statuette.
A nice replica, he decided with a nod. Ram
Sarraf was right. It probably is a copy of some
famous idol, a Golden Lakshmi with real gems. But
hundreds of these brass imitations could have been
cast from one mold and fitted up with glass beads
like this.
Then Ive just been imagining things, Vicki
said ruefully. I was sure there was something
mysterious about that phone call, when those words
lucksheme seemed to fit with Lakshmi, the
way Ram Sarraf pronounced it That girl at the
airportthose bearded men in the striped robes who
followed us todayI guess they mean nothing, like
the brass idol.
I wouldnt say that. Jack was combining the
skill of a detective with that of an art connoisseur as
he studied the Lakshmi statue. There may be a real
puzzle here, if we can make the parts fit. Idols like
this are difficult for tourists to find, because some


53

people are trying to keep them in India, as Ram
Sarraf told you. That American was smart, too,
advising you to mark the idol for later identification.
Wheres the mark you mentioned?
Jack turned the statue over, but before Vicki
could point to the V that she had scratched, she saw
a folded sheet of paper stuffed inside. Vicki
snatched the paper quickly and opened it so that
Jack could not see it. Jack immediately guessed
why.
What is it? he inquired. A receipt from Ram
Sarraf?
Vicki nodded as she showed the paper to Sylvia.
It was signed by Ram Sarraf and its scrawly writing
gave the date, as well as the price in American
money, twenty-five dollars, for which it had been
sold. Vicki read the statement aloud, stopping when
she came to the amount.
It says, This is exact copy of Golden Lakshmi
belonging to the Rajah of Jaithar. Sold by me to
bearer. Price
Vicki paused. When Jack raised his eyebrows
inquiringly, Sylvia came to Vickis rescue.
Price, five hundred thousand dollars, completed
Sylvia. Thats what the man said. Of course he
meant the original idol.
Jack joined in the laughter that followed. All
right, Vicki, he said. Keep your deep secret. But


54

since you bought the idol, you should take it back to
New York. You can show the receipt to customs
when you declare it and state that it was purchased
as a gift. You can present it to me officially later.
Agreed?
Agreed. Vicki smiled at him warmly. But now
tell me, Jack, what do you make of all thats
happened?
The three of us can talk about that at lunch,
Jack replied. I should say the four of us, because
well take little Lakshmi with us, properly wrapped.
But first, try that mysterious phone number again.
Vicki tried it, but received no answer. Next, she
called the airport and learned that Lost and Found
still had received no inquiry about the initialed pin.
When Vicki made her report, Jack came up with
another idea.
That photographer you mentioned, said Jack.
Akbar Chagla, who took the pictures at the airport.
He might know who the girl is. Its part of a
photographers job to get names of people when he
takes their pictures. Where can we reach him?
At one of the newspapers, Sylvia replied.
Would you care to call him? You can say that I
gave you his name.
Jack made the phone call and came back smiling
more broadly than ever.
Akbar is joining us for lunch, Jack informed


55

them. Hes been going a trifle wild himself trying
to find out who the mystery woman is. When I told
him we might have a clue, he asked where we would
be, so I invited him.
Jack had chosen a quiet little restaurant just off
Connaught Circle and they were already seated at
the table when Akbar arrived. The slender
photographer was even more nervous than the day
before, but he curbed his excitement long enough to
give Sylvia a cordial greeting, which he followed
with a polite bow to Vicki and a handshake with
Jack as they were introduced. Then Akbar poured
out a rapid query in English:
What is it that Mr. Smith tells me about a pin a
lady dropped?
Its at the airport, Vicki explained, but its
easy to describe. It has blue-and-white initials. One
letter is a W, another is a P, and the thirdthe one
were not quite sure aboutis either a B or an R.
Akbar gave his head a quick, hopeless shake, as
though that didnt help. He seated himself at the
table and brought out half a dozen photographs from
a heavy briefcase.
Maybe we should be sure we talk about the same
young lady, he suggested. Is this the one who
dropped the pin?
It was the same one. Akbar had gotten some
photos of the brunette girl alone, as well as with


56

Naidu Lathi. Vicki and Sylvia studied the photo-
graphs while Akbar ordered lunch, at Jacks request.
After the waiter left, the girls handed the
photographs back to Akbar, stating that they rec-
ognized the brunette as the owner of the initialed
pin. But Akbar, though calmer, was rueful.
I am afraid we will still have much trouble to
find her, he said, with so very little to go by. My
editor is very angry indeed, that I should fail to get
the ladys name. He does not want to print a picture
saying Unknown Lady and yet he feels he must put
it in the newspaper this very afternoon because he
has the story of Naidu Lathi leaving yesterday. So I
am in one bad spot. We do not know what the three
letters on the pin may mean; and there is one you are
not sure of.
You mean the one that might be B or R? put in
Jack, quite casually. Its a B if that would be of any
help.
Akbar blinked at Jack in puzzlement.
That is called a pun, Akbar, Sylvia explained.
The letter B would be of help. Do you catch?
With a sheepish grin, Akbar acknowledged that
he caught and Vicki was a bit annoyed at Jack for
confusing the worried photographer, until she
suddenly realized that Jack was quite in earnest.
I have seen this girls picture, Jack said,
referring to the photographs, in many newspapers,


57

though not here in India. She will be glad to have
you run it; in fact, shed feel hurt if you didnt. I
dont know what her middle initial W stands for, but
the P is for Priscilla and the B is for Bates. She is
very wealthy and a real oddball
Jack couldnt get any further at the moment, for
Akbar had jumped up and was bowing frantically.
Excuse one moment, please! he exclaimed. I
must make a call to editorial department and tell
them this at once!
While Akbar went off to phone, Jack told the
girls about his latest experiences in his detective
work.
On my recent trips, Jack said, I just happened
to land in countries where Priscilla Bates had tried to
make herself important by meeting celebrities.
Usually she gets away with it, but she only creates
excitement locally. Thats why she is unknown in
India, as Akbar put it.
Jack went on to relate some of the instances
where Priscillas urge for publicity had produced
odd or ludicrous results, but apparently her effort to
meet Naidu Lathi had been her first serious rebuff.
Now, however, it would probably bring the publicity
she wanted, for Akbar was returning to the table,
bubbling with enthusiasm.
They will find Miss Bates soon, he declared.
The newspaper is checking every hotel in New


58

Delhi to see where she is stopping.
Why not put in a call to the airport? asked
Vicki. Now that you know her name, they can
check when she came in.
The newspaper called there while I waited, said
Akbar, and they learned that she came in two days
ago on a flight from Calcutta. They dont know
where she is staying, but since she has not booked
reservations out, she must still be here in New Delhi.
I only hope that when we do find her, she wont
mind our using her picture, though well run it
anyway.
Shell raise an awful fuss, Sylvia declared, if
you dont use it. Ask Mr. Smith to tell you why.
Jack repeated the facts about Priscilla. Thanks to
his excellent memory, Jack was able to name exact
dates and places when Akbar asked for them. At the
finish, Akbar was overwhelming in his thanks. In
typical Oriental fashion, he avowed:
I am utterly indebted to you, sir! So greatly that I
only hope there is some favor I can do in return. Ask
it and I shall oblige!
Ill take you up on that, Jack replied. Since I
solved the mystery of the unknown American
woman, perhaps you can furnish some facts on a
little Hindu lady. He brought the box up from
beside his chair and opened it to reveal the glittering
statuette. Her name is Lakshmi. Have you ever


59

seen her before?
I have seen many idols, replied Akbar, but I
doubt that this was one of them. He brought more
pictures from his briefcase and began spreading
them out, showing counters and windows of various
shops, with close-ups of some of their displays. No,
I do not have it.
How did you happen to take these pictures?
Jack asked.
I take them for Bazaar Buyer. That is name of
special book, printed in English, for benefit of
visitor to New Delhi, telling where to shop and eat.
Dipping into the briefcase again, he brought out a
portrait which he showed briefly, as he added, This
is picture of Mr. Carl Fowler, who gave me job as
mentioned. He is publisher of Bazaar Buyer
Wait!
Vicki practically snatched the photo from
Akbars hands before he could put it away. She
showed it to Sylvia, whose eyes popped open as
wide as Vickis own. Then, excitedly, Vicki handed
the picture across the table.
That man, Vicki told Jack, is the American
who was in Ram Sarrafs shop when we bought the
brass idol!


60



CHAPTER VI

Facts Come Out



Vicki suppressed her excitement instantly when she
saw Jack give a slight shrug of his shoulders as he
looked up with raised eyebrows. She realized that
Jack did not want Akbar to know that anything
unusual had happened at the brass shop, at least not
until they learned more about Carl Fowler.
Very casually, Jack commented, So you met
Fowler at the brass shop. Good! Maybe he could tell
us where to pick up more of these idols, if Ram
Sarraf is out of stock. My uncle could use a few
dozen at his curio store in New York.
Jack thrust the Lakshmi statue back into the box
as though it were something of little consequence.
He turned to Akbar and asked, Where can we reach
Carl Fowler?
At his office, Akbar replied. I have the phone
number and the address here.
He brought out some little folders printed in three
languages, which told about the Bazaar Buyer and


61

how it helped its advertisers. He passed these around
and Vicki promptly noted that the phone number
was not the one she had been calling without result.
Mr. Fowler is out of the office very much,
Akbar said, because he must see many people to
sell his advertising. But leave word and they will
have him call you. Now oblige by excusing me, so I
can return to newspaper office and finish story about
Miss Bates, for which I again thank you.
Akbar left and Jack phoned Fowlers office. He
learned that Fowler was still out to lunch but could
be reached late in the day. As an afterthought, Jack
tried the number that Vicki had seen on Ram
Sarrafs card. It was busy, so he waited and tried
again. That time there was no answer.
Ill check the number through the phone com-
pany, Jack said. But that can wait until tomorrow.
Right now, lets take a tour of the Red Fort.
They stopped by Vickis hotel and left the idol
with the clerk, who put it in the safe. Then they were
off to view the wonders of Shah Jahans great
citadel palace, once famous for its jeweled peacock
throne, which stood in the diwan-i-khas, or private
audience hall. There were other relics of later
emperors, and though the original grandeur was
gone, much had been done to restore the historic
settings.
To Vicki the trip was interesting indeed, but amid


62

the scenes of splendor, she kept thinking of her
adventure along the Chandni Chowk and she
frequently looked about warily to see if they were
being followed. Vicki noted that Sylvia was doing
the same, and though Jack seemed rather amused by
their worry, Vicki was quite sure that he would urge
a quick departure if they found they were being
trailed.
In fact, the tour seemed to be something of a test
on Jacks part, but as such it proved quite negative.
By the time the afternoon was over, Vicki wished
that she had curbed her qualms earlier, so that she
could have paid more attention to the sights.
Back at the hotel, Jack phoned Fowlers office
and was given a prompt message. Mr. Fowler had
also heard from Akbar and was very anxious for
Vicki, Sylvia, and Jack to have dinner with him at
one of the famous Delhi restaurants, with the com-
pliments of the Bazaar Buyer. Jack accepted the
invitation, but it left Sylvia at a loss.
Oh, my! Sylvia exclaimed. You know, Vicki, I
just couldnt take those Hindu meals two evenings
in a row. Youre new to it, but you will find that its
not so alluring after the novelty wears off.
You cant mean youre deserting me, Vicki
teased, leaving me all alone in the heart of New
Delhi.
Not quite all alone, Sylvia countered, with a sly


63

glance at Jack. But frankly, Vicki, Ive already
accepted an invitation to a party with some English
friends, who told me I could ask you along. But
since I know youd rather talk to Mr. Fowler and
learn what you can about the brass idol, you should
do just that. But Id like to beg off, unless her
glance was worried now, as she turned from Vicki to
Jackunless you both feel that I am needed in
thisthis detective work, or investigation?
Vicki and I will handle it, Jack answered. So
keep your date, Sylvia. Well report, as all good
operatives should.
Good-by, then, said Sylvia. See you later.
Sylvia went off to join her friends, leaving Vicki
and Jack in the hotel lobby, where Carl Fowler was
soon due.
Mr. Fowler is probably counting on a four-
some, Vicki remarked. His little chat with Akbar
may have inspired this group invitation. But he
didnt include Akbar; that would have meant in-
viting another lady.
Perhaps Fowler will bring one himself, Jack
observed. If he doesntwell, who would you
suggest?
For once, Vicki replied, youve caught me
unarmed. I only know one girl in New Delhi and she
just walked out on us.
Well leave it to Fowler then. If worse comes to


64

worse, we can call the American Embassy
Jacks jocular mood ended as a girl rushed into
the lobby and looked about excitedly. Seeing Vicki
and Jack, she dashed up to them and exclaimed:
Youre Americans, arent you? Do you happen
to know Miss Vicki Barr and could you tell me
where to find her?
Why, Im Miss Barr, Vicki replied. Then,
realizing who the arrival was, she added, And you
are Miss Priscilla Bates!
Vicki stared in amazement at Priscillas changed
appearance. Could this well-groomed, smart-looking
womandressed in a beautiful gay-colored Italian
silk sheath, her hair smoothed back in a neat French
twistbe that same untidy, dizzy autograph hunter?
The only similarity between the two was the highly
excitable manner which Vicki had witnessed at the
airport. Quickly, she recovered her manners and
tried to introduce Jack Smith, but it was just
hopeless.
How thoughtful of you to pick up that pin and
turn it over to Lost and Found! I wouldnt have
lost it for the world. I never dreamed I had dropped
it at the airport. Priscilla gushed on in a steady
stream as she opened her handbag, fished around in
it for a few seconds, and pulled out the pin. This
pin was a gift from my Great-Aunt Winifred,
Priscilla babbled on as she showed the pin to Vicki.


65

Winifred is my middle name, so of course Auntie
made the W larger than the other letters. Its a
modern piece, but I regard it as a family heirloom.
Vicki could now see that the letter she had mis-
taken for an R was really a B, with one of its tiny
pearls missing.
You can thank Mr. Smith for guessing who you
were, Vicki told Priscilla. He remembered seeing
your pictures in the newspapers.
He did? Priscilla turned to Jack. Where, Mr.
Smith?
In Teheran, replied Jack, and in Baghdad, just
to name two places. More recently in Ceylon. You
rode an elephant there, didnt you?
I certainly did, Priscilla declared, and now
youve crossed my path again, here in New Delhi.
Why, we have so much to talk about that I think you
both should have dinner with me!
We already have an invitation, stated Vicki,
but there were supposed to be four in the party. I
was wondering ifwell, if
Jack picked it up from there. Vicki is trying to
say that we would like to have you join us. We are
waiting for a gentleman named Carl Fowler
perhaps you have already met him?
No, Priscilla said emphatically. I never have.
He publishes a tourist guide called the Bazaar
Buyer, here in New Delhi.


66

I have never seen it. I am new to New Delhi.
Priscilla gave a deep chuckle. New to New Delhi.
Thats funny, isnt it?
Vicki smiled. She was beginning to like Priscilla
in spite of her flighty ways. They were something of
an act, probably put on to try to make herself appear
much younger.
Since I have never met Mr. Barlow Priscilla
paused and frowned, quite prettily. Was that the
name? No. Fowler, I remember now. But it might
not be right for me to accept an invitation by proxy.
Just how would Mr. Fowler feel about it?
Before Vicki could reply, a mans voice inter-
rupted smoothly, Mr. Fowler is quite capable of
speaking for himself. He insists you accept the in-
vitation.
Vicki turned to see the sleek-looking, black-
haired man who had talked with her at the brass-
ware shop. His deep-set eyes had a friendly gleam,
and his smile was no longer apologetic, but con-
fident.
You are Vicki Barr, declared Fowler, because
Akbar said you were the one who bought the idol.
But this young ladyhe turned toward Priscilla
is not the one who was with you. Wait, now! He
paused, then exclaimed, Why, its Miss Priscilla
Bates, in person!
Very sorry, Priscilla said icily. I dont think


67

we have met.
I know we havent, Miss Bates, Fowler said,
with an almost imperceptible sneer. Its too bad we
havent met earlier. Their eyes locked for a
moment. But I would know you any time from
your picture in the newspaper.
What newspaper?
This afternoons. Fowler brought a small sheet
from his pocket and unfolded it. Havent you seen
it? Why, youre front-page news, here in New Delhi,
Miss Bates. You and your big hero, Naidu Lathi.
Priscilla snatched the paper from Fowlers hands
and studied it, wide-eyed. Akbar had really caught a
highly dramatic picture, showing Priscilla, with hair
flowing, eyes glaring, fists half-raised, and her
handbag starting to spill its contents while the
guards grabbed her. Naidu Lathi, also in the picture,
was wearing a contemptuous scowl that seemed to
be directed at Priscilla.
Actually, it wasnt that bad, Vicki thought. As a
witness, she could have testified that Priscillas rage
was meant for the guards, while Naidu Lathi had
been annoyed at things in general rather than at
anyone in particular. Vicki would have been
shocked to see herself pictured in such a pose, but
Priscilla seemed to take it as a joke.
I really was a fright. She laughed. Then, turning
to Carl Fowler, she added coyly, I hope you think I


68

look a lot better now.
But definitely, Fowler acknowledged with a
bow, and a slight curl to his lips. Dont you agree,
Mr. Smith? he asked, turning to Jack. You are Mr.
Smith?
The two men introduced themselves as they
shook hands, and talked together for a few minutes.
Turning back to the girls, Fowler asked, Shall
we go to have dinner? He looked about inquiringly.
Where is your other friend, Miss Barr?
Sylvia had another date, Vicki replied. She
said to give you her regrets.
They dined at a restaurant much like the one of
the night before, even to the menu. Tonight, though,
Vicki sampled a puffed bread called loochies and
enjoyed a wonderful India salad known as
kachoomber. They were having a dessert of samosa,
or chopped nuts in honey, with burfee, a sort of
almond cream cake, when Jack casually remarked to
Priscilla:
We would have reached you much sooner, Miss
Bates, if we had been able to get an answer from
that phone number written on your card.
On my card? Priscilla asked in a puzzled tone.
What card?
Jack means the one advertising Ram Sarraf s
shop, Vicki explained. You dropped it from your
bag along with the pin. Didnt they give it back to


69

you at the airport?
Oh, that! Priscilla exclaimed. She brought the
card from her bag. I asked a man on the plane if he
knew of a jeweler who could match a tiny pearl that
was missing from my pin. He wrote down this
number for me, but I hadnt gotten around to calling
it. But what has that to do withwhat was it you
called that shop?the Rams Raft?
Ram Sarrafs, corrected Vicki. Its on the
other side of the card.
Why, so it is! Priscilla exclaimed. I guess this
was the only card the man had to write on. What did
you say this Ram Sarraf sells? Old-style brass-
ware? Priscilla shuddered. Who would want such
junk?
Miss Barr would, said Carl Fowler, smiling
wryly. She bought a brass idol there, one studded
with a lot of glass beads. Thats how we happened to
meet. I was there collecting what Ram Sarraf owed
me for his ad in the Bazaar Buyer. He turned to
Vicki, with a wide grin. He handed over that
twenty-five dollars you paid for the Lakshmi idol.
So the price was out. Vickis face turned red in
embarrassment. She didnt dare look at Jack right
now, after having tried so carefully to keep him
from guessing the cost of the Lakshmi statue. But
Priscilla, who had been a bit outspoken, thought she
was to blame for Vickis embarrassment.


70

Im so sorry, apologized Priscilla, in her most
effusive way. I didnt mean to criticize your taste,
Vicki. I suppose it must be a quaint shop.
We only went there hoping to find you, Vicki
replied. She shot a quick glance at Jack, who sig-
naled her to go ahead. I asked Ram Sarraf if he
happened to have a brass idol and he did, so I
bought it. Anyway, it resulted in quite an adven-
tureVicki lowered her voicebecause Sylvia
and I were followed after we left Ram Sarrafs.
How thrilling! Priscilla exclaimed. By bearded
men? Mysterious Hindus with turbans? As Vicki
nodded, Priscilla turned to Carl Fowler. Did you
see them too, Mr. Fowler?
No, but I can guess who they were. Fowlers
face went glum and his tone became bitter. Scouts
for little back-street merchants, the sort who tag
after tourists when they leave reputable shops like
Ram Sarrafs. They catch up with you and steer you
to so-called better bargains. Its lucky you dodged
them, Miss Barr, or they would have talked you out
of all your money. I should have told you to watch
out for such people, because, really, you cant trust
any of them.
But what about the fanatics Ram Sarraf warned
us against?
Fowler laughed scornfully. Fanatics? Nonsense!
That, my dear Miss Barr, was just a part of his sales


71

act.
And that repairman you mentioned, Miss Bates,
he continued, turning on his buttery smile. There
are fly-by-nights in that trade, too. No wonder they
were skittish about answering phone calls. Ill have
my office check that number tomorrow. He
scooped out a spoonful of burfee. Well, thanks to
the godsor to Lakshmi, goddess of luck, shall I
say?Ill be out of this rat race tomorrow night.
Weve sold so much advertising in the Bazaar Buyer
that Im flying to New York to arrange a big Visit
India campaign with tourist agencies there. I leave
at five oclock
Why, thats my flight! Vicki said excitedly.
Well both be on the same plane.
You mean all three of us, dont you? Carl
Fowler smiled. Youre taking the Lakshmi idol
with you, arent you?
Why, yes, of course. Although its not mineit
really belongs to Jack. But Im to deliver it to his
uncle to hold for Jack.
Good! Ill have Akbar take a press shot of
Lakshmis farewell. It will be something of a good-
will gesture, better than this thing todayhe
tapped the newspaper in his pocketwhich shows
Naidu Lathi, that great, big hero, and our friend
Miss Bates, here, outglaring each other.
Priscilla flushed, and there was an embarrassed


72

silence. Vicki hastened to say, Mr. Fowler, can you
tell Jack where he can pick up some more Lakshmi
idols? You do still want them, Jack, dont your
Yes, I still do
What the devil do you want them for? Fowler
interrupted sharply. I meanhe shrugged casually
and his tone became smooth againwhat does
anyone want with a bunch of Lakshmis, even if
they could be had, which I very much doubt.
Jack explained about his uncles curio shop.
Vicki noted that Carl Fowler was very much
interested in hearing all about the shopwhat kinds
of curios his uncle carried, where the shop was
located, the type of neighborhood it was located in.
Thats the good old businessman for you, she
thought as the two men talked.
The dinner party ended soon afterward and Carl
Fowler took Priscilla Bates back to her hotel, while
Jack called another taxi for himself and Vicki.
As they taxied to her hotel, Vicki noticed that
Jack was unusually silent, deep in thought.
Are you thinking what Im thinking, Jack? she
asked.
Jack reached for her hand and clasped it in his
own. Mmm! Maybe. What are you thinking?
I cant make up my mind about Carl Fowler. Is
he or isnt he the pleasant, agreeable, honest type?
What do you say?


73

Im not sure yet, Jack told her.
And I dont think he cares too much for the
Priscilla type . . . I dont know . . . I sort of sensed a
strong undercurrent between those two. Something
not just awfully right!
You are so right, Jack said thoughtfully as the
taxi pulled up in front of the hotel door.
Well, this has been quite a day. Vicki sighed as
they were saying good night. So much has hap-
pened. It was silly of me, though, to think those men
who were trailing us were fanatics. But I didnt
know
And you still dont know if they are or are not
fanatics. Im going to do some investigating here in
New Delhi after you leave tomorrow. That is, you
and Lakshmi. Shes important to me, Vicki, and so
are you, he said, squeezing her hand tight. Watch
out for yourself. And keep a firm grip on our
Lakshmi until youre both safe in New York. He
smiled and said good night. But as he turned to
leave, Vicki saw that his face looked grim.
Tired by the events of the full day, Vicki slipped
quickly into bed. But it was some time before she
was able to fall asleep.


74



CHAPTER VII

Back in New York



The next morning, during breakfast, Vicki told
Sylvia all about the dinner party.
I cant help wondering, Vicky mused, what
there was between Priscilla Bates and Carl Fowler
?
Nothing at all, probably! Sylvia laughed wryly.
Lots of menespecially smoothies like Carl
Fowlercouldnt take much of Miss Priscilla Bates.
. . those flighty ways and all that hero-worshipping
stuff. Imagine! And at her age too! She made a
grimace of distaste.
Vicki laughed. Oh, Priscillas not too bad, really.
I rather enjoyed her. But as for Carl
Lets give him a big vote of thanks, shall we?
Sylvia said in her clipped English tones. Hes
earned it for clearing up the mystery of odd phone
calls and bargain-hunting Hindus who go around
scaring two little innocent maids to death.
Clasping her hands in an attitude of prayer and


75

innocence and rolling her eyes heavenward, Sylvia
walked with dainty, mincing steps across the room
to the telephone, turned to Vicki, and made a mock
bow. And now will you excuse me, Miss Barr,
while I make a telephone calla real honest-to-
goodness one, that isto check on our flight time?
While Sylvia telephoned, Vickis thoughts turned
to Jack and their conversation of the evening before.
Why did he look so grim? she wondered.
Well, Vicki, whats on the program today?
Sylvias voice cut across Vickis thoughts. How
about doing the rounds of the government build-
ings?
Vicki agreed quickly, relieved that they were not
going back to the Chandni Chowk and pleased that
she was going to visit the magnificent government
buildings she had heard about.
Broad avenues were swarming with government
workers on bicycles as Vicki and Sylvia approached
the Parliamentary Rotunda with its circular array of
massive columns. Next, they visited the Secretariat
Blocks and from there they went to the All-India
War Memorial at the other end of the Central Vista.
After a really exhaustive tour, they were glad indeed
to meet Jack Smith at the same little restaurant
where they had lunched the day before.
You both look wilted, Jack told them. I hope
you havent been trying to outrace pursuers again


76

this morning.
It wasnt speed that wore us down, Vicki con-
fessed. It was sheer mileage. The concourses and
even the corridors in those big government buildings
remind me of the runways at Kennedy Airport.
But at leastJack smiledyou werent dodg-
ing bearded men.
Oh, yes, we were, Sylvia said, nodding her
head vigorously, bearded and unbearded, all on
bicycles. Our lives were really in our hands.
You mean in their hands, corrected Vicki.
Since they were mostly government workers, we
couldnt have sued them if they did run us down.
Carl Fowler and I have been running that phone
number down, Jack told them. He was right. The
mystery number you kept calling belonged to a
jeweler named Holgu, who hasnt been seen for the
past month. His apartment is empty but the phone is
still connected, so probably he sneaks back to
answer occasional calls.
From Jacks tone of finality, that apparently dis-
posed of the last shred of mystery where the
Lakshmi statuette was concerned. Still, Vicki felt
safer when Jack went back to the hotel with them
and took custody of the brass idol while Vicki and
Sylvia were changing to their stewardess uniforms.
Then, with Lakshmi packed safely in Vickis blue-
and-white flight bag, Jack rode out to the airport


77

with them in a taxi.
But Lakshmi wasnt to remain forgotten very
long. At Palam they had what was practically a
reunion with their new friends, Priscilla Bates, Carl
Fowler, and Akbar Chagla. Priscilla was about to
leave on a flight to Karachi. Carl was to emplane on
the same jetliner as Vicki and Sylvia. Akbar was
there to take pictures of the Lakshmi statue.
My suggestion for a press shot for the Bazaar
Buyer really fired Akbar up, Carl said. Now the
newspaper editor wants one, so do the news serv-
ices. Akbar is also taking shots for Worldwide.
Little Lakshmi is starting a new tourist trend.
Much criticism came from Naidu Lathi picture,
Akbar explained. My editor feels very badly over
same. People say he tells truth, but only one-half
truth. They call on telephone, they ride to newspaper
office on bicycles, to say they wish to see other
side.
A lot of people feel that Naidu Lathi is backed
by fanatics in his Sell India campaign, added
Carl. That kind of thing is likely to create a mass
reaction.
Quite right, Akbar agreed blandly. Reaction in
this case would be people throwing rocks at
newspaper windows. So announcement has been put
there, saying tomorrow we tell full story. Today I
have been taking pictures of happy people going


78

through gates to airplanes.
And Im one, Priscilla announced, raising an
arm in a parting wave. Hail and farewell!
Akbar snapped a picture of that pose, then said
quickly, Now wait, please, while we take pictures
of Lakshmi making departure. Everybody likes
Lakshmi, so that will be real friendly gesture. We
call her Good-Will Ambassador to U.S.A.! So
ready, please!
Vicki brought the brass idol from the bag and
held it on display. Akbar took shots from different
angles and included Sylvia in one picture. Next, he
suggested that Vicki show the statue to Priscilla, so
he could photograph them both admiring it. Carl
Fowler edged into a final shot, saying he wanted it
for the Bazaar Buyer.
Priscilla took her plane and it was time for Vicki
and Sylvia to report for duty on their flight. So Vicki
put the Lakshmi statue back into the bag and spoke
to Jack, who was staying in New Delhi:
Well see you in New York laterLakshmi and
I!
The flight took off on schedule and Vicki and
Sylvia were busy serving dinners as soon as the
passengers unfastened their seat belts. Speeding
westward, they were going with the clock, so al-
though the take-off was at five oclock New Delhi
time, the passengers from farther east already had


79

six- and seven-oclock appetites, as Sylvia aptly
put it. Because of the jetliners great speed, it was
still daylight when they reached Teheran, where
more hungry passengers emplaned. After serving
them with the varied dinners that this flight required,
Vicki and Sylvia were kept busy with calls for
coffee from passengers who had eaten earlier.
Vicki and Sylvia were handling the economy
cabin. Carl Fowler was traveling economy class; and
in his sleek, smiling way, he purred complimentary
remarks, each time one of the girls passed his aisle
seat. By the time they reached Ankara, their next
stop on the more northerly route, Sylvia told Vicki
in a confiding tone:
Im quite fed up with our Mr. Fowlers routine.
He may be as honest as the day is longand I mean
one of these long days flying westwardbut if so, it
is purely accidental. Sincerity is not his strong
point.
Carl is a smooth talker, agreed Vicki, but after
all, he is a salesman. You have to allow for that.
I suppose so. He probably has his good points,
like those strange creatures you have in the States,
snakes that rattle their tails before the strike, instead
of merely hissing as the cobras do in India.
You mean Carl Fowler actually reminds you of a
snake?
Very much so. I have seen his sort before.


80

Vicki couldnt agree with Sylvia altogether. She
felt that Carl, in dealing with merchants along the
Chandni Chowk, must have adopted some of their
persuasive and evasive manners to hold his own. Yet
she remembered that last night she could not decide
how she felt about him. So she decided to put him to
something of a test.
After the jet took off from Ankara for Istanbul, as
she was serving Carl Fowler a late snack, she asked
quietly, Tell me, Carl, couldnt there be some jinx
connected with the Lakshmi idol? Couldnt those
men who followed us really be fanatics who might
want to steal it?
He studied Vickis face for a long moment. They
really might be, he confessed. I didnt want to say
so in New Delhi, for it might have worried you. But
now that we are away from India, I can say what I
really think.
Then wasnt it unwise for Akbar to take those
pictures?
Vicki held her breath. This was the test. If Carl
tried to laugh this off, then she would know he could
not be trusted.
Perhaps it was, he said, nodding his head. But
all I wanted was a single photo to put in the Bazaar
Buyermonths from now. He spread his hands
hopelessly. It was Akbars ideanot mineto
publicize it right away.


81

Vicki let her breath out slowly. Carls answer was
a good one.
But anyhowCarls bantering mood returned
why worry about Lakshmi, now that she is safe
on board this jet and you have loyal old Carl Fowler
as a convoy?
That would be all right, Vicki said, except that
you are flying through to Paris, while I am dropping
off at Istanbul. There happens to be a crew change
there.
Momentarily, Carls face clouded, then he asked,
And what are you going to do with the brass idol?
Ill check it at the airport in Istanbul and again in
Paris, where I have another layover. From there, Ill
take Lakshmi into New York and clear her through
U. S. customs.
If I finish my business in Paris, promised Carl,
Ill try to join you on that last leg of the trip. In that
case, Lakshmi will still have me as her convoy.
He was half asleep when they arrived at Yesil-
koy Airport in Istanbul and Vicki was too busy
checking out passengers and handling other details
to say good-by to him. Riding to the hotel with
Sylvia, Vicki repeated the conversation that she had
had with Carl, but Sylvia still remained unconvinced
as to his sincerity.
Vicki and Sylvia parted during the layover in
Istanbul. Sylvia was assigned to a flight bound for


82

London, while Vicki went on to Paris. There, after a
few days layover, she found herself with an entirely
new crew, except for Sara Nicholas, who had gone
from Teheran back to New York; then here to Paris
again. Now, both Vicki and Sara were flying into
New York to complete their present assignments.
Sara brought welcome word from New York.
Vickis old teammate, Karen Sorenson, was flying
turnaround trips to Bermuda that brought her back to
New York the same night. Karen had taken an
apartment and was hoping that Vicki could stay
there with her, while awaiting her new assignment.
In fact, Karen would probably be at Kennedy Air-
port when they arrived there, waiting to greet Vicki.
In her turn, Sara was intrigued by Vickis account
of her adventures in New Delhi, particularly the fact
that Vicki was bringing back the very idol that had
figured so prominently in what still had the
semblance of a mystery! Vicki couldnt show Sara
the Lakshmi statuette right then, as it was under lock
and key at Orly Airport, but she promised to
introduce Lakshmi to Sara in person when they
reached New York.
A few days later they were at Orly Airport,
checking in passengers for the transatlantic flight
that took off shortly after noon. A sleek, quiet-look-
ing man stepped past Sara and greeted Vicki casu-
ally with the single word Surprise! As he went


83

into the plane, Vicki turned to Sara, whose face was
really brimming with interest, and said, Check off
Carl Fowler on the passenger list.
Like the rest of the crew, Vicki and Sara were
busy during the seven-hour flight from Paris to New
York. All the seats were taken and many of the
passengers were Americans who were so eager to
get home that they curbed their impatience by
demanding special service. The meals, prepared by a
famous Parisian restaurant, included delicacies and
extra courses that required more attention on the part
of the purser and the stewardesses.
As always, Vicki and Sara agreed, they were
never idle when flying to New York. Vicki found
time to exchange a few words with Carl Fowler
during the flight. He asked if Lakshmi was on board,
and was pleased to hear that she wasand in a safe
place. He said he had a wonderful idea and started to
tell her about it, but Vicki had duties to attend to and
suggested that he tell her later.
Because of the difference in Paris and New York
time, it was still only midafternoon by New York
clocks when the giant jetliner landed at Kennedy
International Airport. As the passengers deplaned,
Vicki asked Carl what the wonderful idea was.
Simply that Ill wait for you and Lakshmi, he
replied. Ill have a taxi to convoy you, wherever
you are going.


84

That was kind of him, she told him, but warned
him that she had matters to attend to that would take
quite some time. He assured her, with a smile, that
he was entirely at her service.
She thanked him and rushed off to attend to her
duties as stewardess, after which she had to clear
customs, then hunt up Karen. The moments seemed
endless until she at last found herself opening her
bag and taking out the brass idol for customs
inspection. Lakshmi looked unperturbed by her trip
halfway around the world; but Vicki, just to satisfy
her own whim, looked for the identifying V mark
that she had scratched inside the hollow statue and
saw that it was still there.
The customs man turned the statue over to make
sure that nothing was concealed inside it; and, from
his manner, Vicki decided that he probably studied
Oriental idols daily and by the dozen. His inspection
was professional and quite rapid. It was apparent
from the highly lacquered surface that the idol was
strictly brass; the big colored beads were so dull in
the strong light that they were obviously mere glass.
Next, the customs man checked the sales slip
Vicki had received from Ram Sarraf. A quizzical
look came over his face as he noted the price of
twenty-five dollars. Shaking his head, he okayed the
customs declaration, then dismissed Vicki. As she
walked away, she heard him say to his companion,


85

Crazy, the good American dollars that people
throw away on junk!
Vickis back stiffened with resentment for Lak-
shmi. Junk! she echoed half-aloud. Junk, indeed!
. . . Not you, Lakshmi, she whispered, holding her
close.
Beyond the customs barrier, she found Sara im-
patient and eager to meet Lakshmi. At the sight of
her, Sara let out a squeal of delight.
Oh, youre simply adorable, Lakshmi! Im glad
you got here safely. And now I must run, she told
Vicki, but I simply had to say Hello to her. She
blew a kiss to Lakshmi and hurried off.
Grateful for the warm welcome to Lakshmi,
Vicki blew a kiss in return at Saras retreating back.


86



CHAPTER VIII

A Weird Intruder



Vicki, bending over her flight bag to tuck Lakshmi
carefully and safely away, was thinking how very
fond of her she had become, when a friendly laugh
beside her cut across her thoughts. It was Carl
Fowler, in his usual bantering mood.
Now that both of you have cleared customs, why
dont you have your picture taken together, to prove
that youve made a trip halfway around the world in
each others company?
Vicki looked up and exclaimed, I might have
known!
Why not? Carl grinned. Im trying to improve
trade relations with India, remember? If I can get
some American firms to advertise in the Bazaar
Buyer, it will be a big help.
Best of luck, rejoined Vicki, and squeeze into
the picture with Lakshmi if you want. She paused
and posed while the photographers took shots from
various angles. As the camera clicks ended, Vickis


87

smile suddenly faded. She repressed a shudder as
she turned to Carl and added, I only hope this
doesnt stir up the wrong people, thats all!
Carl looked at her, amazed. Are you still worry-
ing about those mysterious bearded Hindus?
Im afraid I am, Vicki said, frowning. I keep
thinking about it. . . . If those men had only wanted
to steer us to merchants in the Chandni Chowk, they
would have approached us very quickly, wouldnt
they? . . . Oh, I know, you think Im being very silly,
but
But this is New York. Remember? Not New
Delhi.
I know! But cant there be fanatics here, too?
She searched his face for a moment. Oh, well, right
now I have other things to do. I must find Karen
Sorensonshes a stewardess who has asked me to
stay at her apartmentand then I must call Jacks
uncle and ask if I may deliver Lakshmi at his curio
shop as soon as I can make it.
Ill take you there, Carl volunteered. Its my
duty to convoy Lakshmi to her foreordained desti-
nation. Just call it Fate in the shape of Carl Fowler
provided, of course, that I can find a taxi.
If you dont, Vicki promised as they started off
in search of Karen, you will when we join you with
Lakshmi. Shell bring you luck.
Finding Karen and making the introductions took


88

only about five minutes, but getting Jacks uncle on
the phone was a problem. The phone was busy each
time Vicki tried it. Finally she checked its listing in
the phone bookRoger Dillon, Curios and
Antiquesand found she had the right number. She
tried the number again and was still getting a busy
signal when Karen tapped at the door of the phone
booth.
You just cant keep Mr. Fowler waiting too
long, she reminded Vicki, or hell go without us.
Anyway, since youre getting busy signals, some-
body must be in the shop. Its still early, so why not
forget the phone call and try to get there fast?
Vicki agreed, and the two girls hurried off. They
spotted Carl Fowler standing beside a taxi. As they
approached, they heard the driver growling that he
wouldnt wait any longer unless he could start the
meter and keep it running.
Lakshmi brings me luck again. Carl chuckled
and made a mock bow to the flight bag holding the
idol. Here she is in the nick of time, saving me a few
dimes on the meter.
After he gave the driver the address and directed
him to go the quickest way, Carl asked Vicki what
Jacks uncle had to say.
Nothing, she answered grimly. His line was
busy. Vickis tone became grimmer. It reminded
me of those calls I made in New Delhi. The differ-


89

ence is that Mr. Dillon is reliable. . . . Well, as Karen
says, the busy signal shows he must be there, or
someone is.
They chatted about other things as the taxi wound
its way in and out of heavy traffic. Vicki was too
anxious to enjoy the conversation. As they
approached the neighborhood of the shop, she
started to relax a little. At last the taxi pulled up in
front of the shop. Vickis heart sank! Across the
display window and door protective iron grille gates
had been pulled. The shop was locked and barred.
Mr. Dillon was not there!
While the taxi waited, Carl made inquiries in
neighboring stores on the block. He came back with
word that Mr. Dillon had been seen leaving the shop
and flagging a taxi about a half hour before. He
seemed to be in a hurry.
They say he may be back later, Carl added,
but nobody could guess how much later. Youll just
have to keep calling him until you get him. Now,
where can I take you?
To Karens apartment, said Vicki, but its
dozens of blocks away. We wouldnt think of having
you take us all the way there.
Why not? Carl asked. I might as well stay
with such good company up to the last minute.
They reached the apartment building, a fine old
residence on a side street. Like the adjoining houses,


90

it had been converted into apartments. Karens was
on the top floor back and again Carl kept the taxi
waiting while he carried the girls suitcases upstairs.
All the way up, Carl huffed and puffed in an
exaggerated way. After Karen unlocked the door,
Carl half-sagged across the threshold, where he sat
down the suitcases and mopped his brow. Vicki
promptly took the Lakshmi idol from her flight bag.
Its as stuffy as New Delhi with a loo blowing
through, Carl jested. How did you happen to pick
a place with such long, steep stairs?
To keep in practice for climbing steps to plane
cabins, Karen retorted. Thats how we won our
wings.
Its just the place for Lakshmi, Vicki stated,
setting the brass idol on the living-room mantel-
piece. Doesnt she look at home above the fire-
place?
Very much, agreed Karen, but before you go
out, put her away in that china closet over by the
window. If you dont, everybody who comes in will
start pawing her, and shell lose that nice glossy
shine.
Hear that, Lakshmi? Vicki laughed. Well, you
can stand in state for a little while, at least. And just
to prove that you are now a full-fledged American
citizen, I am going to let you keep your own
credentials. Here they are, your bill of sale and the


91

customs declaration.
Vicki turned the statue over and stuffed the two
sheets of paper deep into the hollow interior, where
they wedged quite firmly. She then replaced the idol
on the mantel, and gave it a ceremonial bow. Karen,
meanwhile, was opening the large casement
window, pushing its double sections outward. Carl,
who had been enjoying Vickis performance, now
strolled over for a breath of air. Although the
afternoon was cloudy and muggy, it was cool by the
window.
If theres any breeze, we get it, Karen told Carl,
and take a look at our nice backyard. Three stories
down, with no fire escape to spoil the view, and only
the roof above us.
Carl stuck his head out the window and looked
around, I see what you mean, he said. And it
should be safe from prowlers. Then he turned to the
door.
I must be going, he said, with a parting bow,
so good afternoon, all. He waved to the Lakshmi
statue, then wagged his finger seriously at Vicki.
And dont forget to keep calling Dillons curio
shop.
Vicki made a call while Carl was still on his way
downstairs. She received an answer, but after
hanging up, she told Karen glumly, That was an
answering service. Mr. Dillon has notified them that


92

he is out of town and wont be back until tomorrow.
Well have to keep the idol until then.
Vicki told Karen of her trip to the Chandni
Chowk and how she had purchased the idol. She
was so enthusiastic in her descriptions of the
bazaars, the Great Mosque, the Red Fort, and the
many-coursed Indian dinners, that Karen listened in
rapt attention, occasionally putting in questions that
reminded Vicki of other things to tell. Time passed
swiftly, the clouded sky grew darker, but neither
stewardess particularly cared or noticed it, for after
Vicki was through, Karen eagerly began to tell some
of her experiences on a South American flight which
she had recently made. Then suddenly, amid the
deepening dusk, the door of the apartment clattered
open and a voice called out, Hi, there!
Both Vicki and Karen, startled, jumped up from
their chairs, for by then, the only light in the room
came from the gleaming brass of the Lakshmi statue
and the white stripe of the marble mantel beneath it
as they reflected the fading light from the window.
Then the two girls relaxed when they recognized the
newcomer. She was Yvonne Brassai, a stewardess
friend, who had told Karen that she might stop by.
Karen turned on some lamps, then frowned slightly
as she asked:
But how did you manage to get in, Yvonne? Did
you press the button for the wrong apartmentdid


93

someone else tick the button to unlock the front door
and let you in?
No, no, it was not that, Yvonne replied, with a
pronounced French accent. I tried the door and it
was open, so in I came. I was halfway up the stairs,
before I thought how foolish I would be, if I should
find nobody at home. So I found this door open,
too
Because I forgot to latch it! Karen groaned. I
really must watch that!
So I walked in, Yvonne continued, and void!
Here I am!
After exchanging news about their stewardess
friends, the girls decided it was time to go out to
dinner. While Vicki and Karen were changing
clothes, Yvonne made some tea. Vicki sipped half a
cup and then set it aside to put the Lakshmi statue in
the china closet, which had a solid panel front. As
Vicki was turning the knob, Karen was closing the
casement window and urging the others on:
Come along, you two. If you start drinking tea,
you will lose your appetites, and all the restaurants
in this neighborhood will be closed when you are
ready to eat.
With that, she brushed Vicki and Yvonne out into
the hallway, turned out the last lamp, closed the
door, and made sure that it was locked. But when
Karen overtook the girls on the stairs, Vicki stopped


94

and turned to ask:
You locked the door all right, Karen, but what
about the window? Did you lock that tooin the
middle of all that rush?
Well, no, admitted Karen. I seldom do. Im on
the top floor, and no one can get in from the outside.
So the window doesnt have to be locked.
But I left the brass idol in the apartment.
I know you did, Vicki. Still, it would be silly to
go backand not having had any tea, Im hungry.
Oh, my-y-y! The sudden wail came from
Yvonne. I was just going to pour your tea, Karen,
when you said you didnt want it. I may have for-
gotten to turn off the burner.
They were well down the stairs now, so Vicki
settled everything in her emphatic and efficient way.
Give me the apartment key, Karen, said Vicki,
plucking it from her friends hand, and Ill turn off
the burner, clamp the window and lock the door, all
in one swoop. Wait for me outside and Ill be right
down.
Vicki reached the apartment, unlocked the door,
and swung it shut behind her as she turned toward
the kitchenette, expecting to see the glow from the
burner on the electric stove. But there was none.
Yvonne, in her capable way, had turned it off. So
instead of fishing for the fight cord there, she moved
into the living room to switch on a lamp.


95

It was darker now than she had realized. The
window formed a dim, block-shaped outline. She
couldnt even see the divisions of its panes. That
was strange! Karen had closed the window, she was
sure. Her eyes leaped to the china closet in the
corner. Its upright door was cream-colored, just light
enough to be dimly visible. Then why was there a
dark, narrow strip at one side? Suddenly she knew. .
. .The door of the china closet was open. She was
positive she had closed it tight!
Now she could feel a breeze from the window.
The next instant she was sure that something stirred
beyond an easy chair, halfway to the china closet.
For a moment a figure seemed to bulge up into sight,
then slide quickly down again. It was hard to tell
from such a quick glimpse. But she was sure it was
not her imagination!
Some agile prowler had somehow reached the
unlatched window, worked it open, and slipped into
the darkened living room!
A chill of horror swept over her. Her heart was
pounding in her ears. What should she do? . . . She
must not panic, she told herself. . . . Then her mind
began to work . . .
By having moved into the living room she was
now about twelve feet from the hallway door. To
turn back and make a dash for it would be madness.
The prowler, whoever or whatever he was, would


96

instantly know her purpose and make a quick lunge
to cut off her flight.
By moving deeper into the living room, she could
reverse the situation by cutting off the prowler from
his own route of escape, the window. But that might
be more dangerous. If the prowler were armed, he
might turn desperate once his flight was blocked.
Pretending to grope for the lamp switch, Vicki
stalled for time. To turn on the lamp would invite
attack from the linker, whose only shelter, darkness,
would then be gone. As long as she kept stalling, the
prowler would not know for certainor at least
have doubts about itthat she even suspected he
was there. But how long could this continue? Oh, if
only something would happen! . . . Something to
help her make the right move!
Seconds were becoming minutes. Her nerves
were getting tighter and tighter as the tension
mounted in the silent, darkened room.
Then the unexpected happened!


97



CHAPTER IX

The Idol Vanishes



Bzzzzzbzzzzzbzzzzz
It was the buzzer in the lobby. Karen was prob-
ably wondering what was keeping her and buzzing
to find out. Almost without thinking, she exclaimed,
Stop buzzing! Ill be there!
Her knees rigid, her body stiff with tension, she
turned and walked toward the hall door, exclaiming
aloud, All right! Im coming! Im coming! Then
she remembered the house phone. Her mind began
to work clearly now. She groped for the phone
which was on the doorway wall nearest the living
room.
Hellohello
In response to Vickis words came Karens reply,
crackly over the inadequate wiring of the house
phone.
Vicki, Im hungry. Whats keeping you?
Oh, Karen! Vicki said in tones feigning sur-
prise. So, its you!


98

She managed to steal a glance toward the big easy
chair to make sure the lurking figure wasnt moving
in her direction. Meanwhile, the voice came from
the earphone:
Of course its Karen. Who else would it be?
Well, parried Vicki, it could be Yvonne.
And what could Yvonne tell you that I cant?
Were both hungry. Whats wrong, Vicki? Tell me!
There was no motion from the direction of the
chair; nor did any shape break the block-shaped
outline of the window. The lurker hadnt budged in
either direction Or maybe there was no prowler.
Maybe it was only her imagination after all. But
still, she wasnt taking any chances.
Let me talk to Yvonne. She will understand.
Have it your own way then, came Karens
reply. Here she is.
Next, Yvonne was on the wire, asking anxiously,
Dont tell me that something has burned, Vicki
Oh, non! Non, non! she cried exuberantly in
French, hoping the intruder did not understand
French. Un voleur est ici dans le salon. Appelez les
gendarmes.
In her own excitement, Yvonne replied in English
instead of French, though that could have been for
Karens benefit.
A thief there in the living room! You want the
police!


99

Absolument, Vicki urged. Tout de suite. Au
plus vite.
Absolutelyimmediatelyas fast as possible,
Yvonne translated. Then she said quickly, We can
get up there to help tout de suite! But the outer door
is locked and you have Karens key. So tick the
button and let us in.
While Vicki listened to Yvonne with one ear, her
other ear failed to catch any sounds from beyond the
big chair. The prowler apparently had not guessed
what she was saying in French. But as for ticking the
button, she couldnt risk it at this moment.
Cest impossible, Vicki told Yvonne. Je joue
au chat et la souris avec le voleur qui a entr par la
fentre.
She was saying that it was impossible; she was
playing cat-and-mouse with the thief who had
gained entrance through the window.
Sonnez le concierge. Il aurait un autre clef.
Vicki was telling Yvonne to ring the superin-
tendent; that he would have another key. But by then
Karen was on the phone with a better idea.
Ill buzz the other apartments, Karen said, and
bring help on my way up. Just keep talking to
Yvonne until we get there.
With that, Karen was on her way and Yvonne
was reporting that to Vicki, who kept up a running
conversation in French. Meanwhile, Vicki gave


100

sidelong glances toward the window. She knew that
her ruse was working, for she saw a head bob up
against the dim outline. There was no chance to cut
the intruder off from the window; but, on the other
hand, he could no longer block Vickis escape by
the door. For the moment, Vicki was tempted to go
her way and let the prowler go his.
One thing alone restrained herthe Lakshmi
statue.
Had the prowler already snatched the brass idol?
If he hadnt, a quick flight on Vickis part might
give him a chance to grab it. Either way, Vicki was
determined to prevent the theft. Boldly she moved
toward the table where the lamp was and she saw
the head drop down quickly toward the floor. Then
Vicki darted back to the door, grabbed the knob, and
yanked it open; but instead of whisking out into the
lighted hallway, she twisted behind the door, which
opened inward.
Timely footsteps came pounding up the last
stretch of the stairway and Vicki shouted:
There he goesout through the window!
Just enough light came from the hallway to reveal
the escape. Vicki, peering past the door edge, saw a
hunched, scrawny figure suddenly unlimber itself
and dive out through the opening, thrusting its hands
high and wide as it went. There, it twisted about and
she heard a snarl from a grinning, thin face that


101

glared back into the living room. Then the creature
whipped from sight into the enveloping darkness
and none too soon. Three men from downstairs
apartments came dashing in from the hallway, one
brandishing a cane, another an umbrella, and the
third a poker from a fireplace.
Vicki pointed to the window and the three men
headed there, but when one of them beamed a
flashlight down the wall outside the window, he saw
no trace of the scrawny fugitive. An answering
gleam came from the backyard. It was the superin-
tendent of the building. He shouted up that there was
no one down there. Looking puzzled, the men at the
window turned to Vicki and asked if she was sure
she had really seen an intruder.
I certainly did, Vicki insisted, and from the
way he twisted when he dived into the darkness, he
must have grabbed these window frames.
She indicated the hinged sections of the case-
ment, which projected outward at a fairly wide
angle. Then, looking upward, she pointed to the roof
ledge directly above.
Maybe he worked up to the roof, Vicki added.
He could have reached it from the top of the
window.
Sounds likely, one man decided. He leaned out
and called down to the superintendent, Bring up
your flashlight. We want to take a look on the roof.


102




103

In the hallway was an iron ladder leading to a
heavily bolted trap door in the roof. When the
superintendent arrived, he opened the trap door, and
the men clambered up the ladder. Bob Carlson, who
lived on the second floor, was the last to start up. As
he did, he suggested to Karen that she check to see if
anything had been stolen.
Karen scurried to the bedroom and found her
jewelry intact in a dresser drawer. Nothing had been
disturbed there, so she returned to the living room
and looked into a half-opened drawer where she had
left some loose cash, but none of it was missing.
With pounding heart, Vicki darted to the china
closet to check.
The Lakshmi statuette was gone!
Karen looked up from her inspection of the
drawer to see Vicki closing the door of the china
closet, slowly and mechanically. Immediately Karen
understood, as did Yvonne, who now had joined
them.
The brass idol? Karen asked anxiously. Its
gone?
As Vicki nodded, Yvonne said quickly, We must
call the police right away.
No, no, Vicki protested quickly. Dont say a
word to anyone about itat least not yetnot until
I have a chance to talk to Mr. Dillon.
Did it cost much? Yvonne wanted to know.


104

No, Lakshmi did not cost much money, but she
was worth a lot to me. I had become very fond of
her. Vickis eyes filled with tears. And Jack had
asked me to take good care of her. . . . But there sure
has been a jinx about her, right from the beginning.
Maybe she should never have left India.
But what about the thief? Karen asked. Did he
look like a Hindu?
From the glimpse I had of him, yes, Vicki re-
plied, but he wasnt the bearded type. He had a thin
face and an ugly grin. Vicki repressed a slight
shudder.
By then the searchers were returning from the
roof, where they had failed to find any trace of the
prowler.
He could have gone across the other roofs, Bob
Carlson told the girls, and down a fire escape or
through an empty house down the street. The
superintendent thinks that is how the prowler got up
here, because the police have been having trouble
with those houses and have ordered them boarded
up. Carlson turned to Karen and asked, But tell
me, Miss Sorenson, were any of your valuables
missing?
None at all, said Karen, truthfully, since the
question was put directly to her. It was just lucky
lat Vicki got up here as soon as she did. Ill keep
that casement window tightly clamped from now


105

on.
Thats a good idea, Carlson agreed, even
though the police will have those empty houses
boarded up tomorrow, after the superintendent
reports what happened.
The girls thanked the men and wished them good
night. Then Karen closed and clamped the window
and the girls left to have dinner at a little French
restaurant that Yvonne was sure would still be open.
All during the meal they talked about the vanished
idol.
I only wish that Jack would get back to New
York, Vicki said wistfully. He would know what
to do.
What about Carl Fowler? Karen asked.
Couldnt he help?
He might if I only knew where to reach him,
Vicki replied, but he didnt tell me where hes
stopping. For one thingVickis forehead wrin-
kled as she frowned thoughtfullyCarl might
figure out how the intruder knew about the idol.
Those men who followed Sylvia and me in India
may have something to do with the theft. But how
could they have picked up the idols trail so
quickly?
They must have been watching outside Mr.
Dillons shop, Karen observed, like they were at
Ram Sarrafs in New Delhi.


106

But who, Yvonne asked, would have given
themwhat is it you call it?the tip-off? This Mr.
Fowler, maybe?
Oh, no! Karen protested. Why, he is so cour-
teous, so understanding, he gives one a feeling of
confidence. Youd like him, Yvonne, because he is
so gentlemanlyand rather handsome, too.
Karens raving about Carl Fowler was beginning
to raise doubts in Vickis mind. Because of her
warm, bubbling nature, Karen often made the
mistake of accepting people by what Vicki called
their false-face value. Anyone that Karen liked too
readily needed a second look.
In Carls case, Vicki thought that his sleek ap-
pearance, his glib talk, his sure manner, and his
buttery smile were all part of his act of a smooth
salesman. Sylvia, on the other hand, didnt agree,
Vicki recalled. Sylvia didnt trust Carl, and had
compared him to a snake. Now here was Karen also
raising doubts in her mind. And what about her own
feelings about Carl? She had not been able to make
up her mind about him. These thoughts made her sit
up and do some quick thinking.
Yvonne may have something, Vicki said
thoughtfully. I am beginning to really wonder
about our Mr. Fowler. Come to think of it, he was in
on the business of the brass idol right at the startin
Ram Sarrafs shop in New Delhi. And here in New


107

York, he came with us all the way from Kennedy
Airport to Karens apartment. Why, he knows so
much
Or maybe so little put in Karen, a trifle piqued.
After all, we may have been followed right from
the airport, or word could have been sent along to
someone.
But by whom? And how did they knew about
the idol?
Why, there was all the publicity, Vicki. Pho-
tographers taking pictures of you and Lakshmi,
almost as soon as you arrived.
But none of those pictures have appeared yet.
The word certainly could not have spread while the
photographs were being taken.
It could have spread beforehand. After all, the
photographers knew enough to be there, so there
must have been news dispatches from New Delhi,
saying that you and Lakshmi were on the way. Other
people could have read those.
You may be right, Vicki agreed. But I wish I
could talk with Jacks uncle. Again she looked
troubled. He might have some ideas on how to
handle the situation.
You will find out tomorrow, Karen said, by
simply stopping around at his shop and asking him.
They finished dinner on that happier note and
started back to the apartment. Near their destination,


108

Karen stopped at a little delicatessen to buy cream
for the next mornings coffee. There, Vicki noted a
stack of tabloids mat had just been delivered, the
early edition of the next mornings newspaper. Vicki
gave a gasp of surprise.
On the front page was a picture of Vicki holding
the Lakshmi statue. It was one of the photos taken at
Kennedy Airport.
With it was a brief story referring to the brass idol
as a distinguished traveler from India and there
was another picture, sent by telephoto from New
Delhi, showing the Lakshmi statueagain in
Vickis armsjust before the take-off from Palam
Airport. Karen laughed gleefully when Vicki
showed her the story.
See? I told you! Karen exclaimed. The story
was so well covered that people could easily have
known about it here.
Karens words were still echoing in Vickis mind
when they reached the apartment and found
everything quiet and normal there. After they made
sure that the living room window was tightly
clamped, they went to bed. As Vicki tried to go to
sleep, she still wondered if there really could be a
hidden cabal, and if so, who was the real plotter
behind it.
Almost in a dream state, Vicki began to visualize
the answer. Faces began to appear in her minds eye


109

only to fade. First, Carl Fowlers, then Ram Sarrafs,
even the face of Akbar, the photographer in New
Delhi and those of the photographers at Kennedy
Airport. Then, but briefly, she could picture the
grinning, snarling visage of the thief at the
apartment window.
Then that picture was gone and a more imposing,
yet more glaring face loomed in its place. Vicki
could see the sneering, officious features of Naidu
Lathi, that mastermind of international trade
relations, who was here in America, right now. He
seemed to be gloating, laughing, as though he knew
all that had happened and what lay behind it.
Momentarily, she was petrified by the night-
marish sight; then, as the visage faded like the
others, she drifted off into sleep.


110



CHAPTER X

Vicki Seeks a Clue



With morning, Vicki was glad that Karen had
clamped the window, for it was really blustery
outside. The warm, murky weather of the day before
had given way to howling March winds that made
Vicki wish she was flying back to India. Soon after
breakfast, Vicki phoned the curio shop and
recognized the voice that answered. It was Jacks
uncle.
This is Vicki Barr! Vicki exclaimed happily.
Im so glad you are back, Mr. Dillon. Karen
Sorenson and I stopped at your shop yesterday and
found that you were gone
I wish I hadnt left my shop, Mr. Dillon in-
terrupted. Sharply, he added, Ive had a strange,
baffling experience. Can you come to see me at
once?
Well be right over, Mr. Dillon! Vicki
promised.
She hung up and soon she and Karen were facing


111

the wild March winds as they hailed a taxi. When
they reached the antique shop, Roger Dillon related
a strange story. He was a quiet, gray-haired man
who usually let others do most of the talking and
frequently showed a sympathetic smile that slightly
reminded Vicki of Jack. But now, in telling about
his experience, Uncle Roger became even more like
Jack, when Jack was talking about his experiences
as a detective.
Yesterday afternoon a Connecticut antique
dealer named Quimby phoned me, asking me to
appraise a fine collection belonging to a wealthy
man named Milton Lathrop. Quimby said that Mr.
Lathrop, a good friend of his, was disposing of his
country estate, just over the New York state line and
was selling his antiques. Lathrop wanted another
dealer besides Quimby to appraise them, and
suggested several names, mine among them.
Quimby admitted that he had tried some others first,
without result, so time was short when he reached
me.
Is that why you left in such a hurry? Vicki
asked.
Exactly. There was just time to reach Grand
Central Station and catch a branch train that stopped
at Stone Bridge, two stations before Baxter, which is
the end of the line. The caller said that a taxi would
be waiting at the station for me. I caught the train


112

and when I reached Stone Bridge, it was already
dark. It was just a little station, only a platform with
a few lights, and a man wearing a chauffeurs
uniform came up and asked me if I happened to be
Mr. Dillon. I said I was and he showed me to his car.
Next, we were driving over back roads, with huge
snowbanks on either side.
Snowbanks! put in Karen. You mean it was
that far north?
It was only forty miles out of the city, Mr.
Dillon said with a whimsical smile, but the snow
stays long in that area. The driver kept telling me
that the fare was all paid for, and that we had to
drive the long way because so many roads were
blocked. Finally we reached the Lathrop mansion
and he left me there. I had to wait a while before a
man answered the door. He demanded to know who
I was, and I told him quickly, because he was
carrying a shotgun.
Both girls gasped in astonishment.
He was the caretaker, explained Mr. Dillon,
with another whimsical smile. He was alone in the
place, so when a car pulled up and went away again,
he was more worried than I was.
But where, Vicki asked, was Mr. Lathrop?
In Bermuda. Mr. Dillon smiled. He went there
a month ago. Anyway, I explained things to the
caretaker, and the fact I knew a lot about Mr.


113

Lathrop won his confidence. We phoned Quimbys
shop in Connecticut, but found that the phone had
been disconnected. The caretaker called for a taxi
from Baxter, and I had dinner there, before taking a
late train back to town. I had time to phone some
Connecticut dealers who knew Quimby, and they
told me he had closed up shop a few weeks ago, and
had gone south somewhere.
So the whole thing was just a hoax, exclaimed
Vicki, her mind working rapidly, to get you away
so I couldnt deliver the brass idol!
The brass idol?
A statue of the goddess Lakshmi, Vicki ex-
plained, that I bought for Jack in India. Ill tell you
about it.
As Vicki told her story, Mr. Dillon listened
closely. When she had finished, the old curio dealer
declared solemnly:
Unquestionably someone was after the idol and
they knew it would be difficult to steal it, once I had
it under lock and key.
But its only brassand not worth much
In this business, anything may be priceless. Mr.
Dillon waved toward the curios that lined his
shelves. An Egyptian scarab may carry a Pharaohs
curse. A hollow ring may have contained the poison
that took the life of a medieval monarch. Collectors
place special values on such things. Some will go to


114

any lengths to acquire them.
Of that I am sure, Vicki agreed. But to get
back to your story, Mr. Dillon. Wouldnt it be pos-
sible to trace that mystery taxi and its driver?
There doesnt seem to be. The driver who took
me into Baxter said he had never heard of a taxi
picking anyone up at Stone Bridge, or any taxi like
the one I described.
Just what was it like, Mr. Dillon?
It was a ranch wagon, green with white trim, and
there was a printed signTAXIon the wind-
shield. The driver wore a complete uniform, not just
a cap, like the taximen I saw at the Baxter station.
Maybe it wasnt a taximaybe it was a private
car that came from an estate near Lathrops.
I thought of that, but there are so many estates, it
would be impossible to check them all, especially as
so many side roads are snowbound.
He spread out a road map of the area. Vicki noted
an irregularly shaped rectangle printed in purple,
with the name Baxter Airport and immediately she
had an idea. Once again, Vicki thought, her private
pilots license would be helpful in doing some
detective work.
Can I make a phone call to Baxter, Mr. Dillon?
Why, certainly.
Vicki phoned the Baxter Airport, gave her name
and other data, and rented a two-place Cessna for


115

the next day.
Tomorrow, she announced, Im flying over
the countryside around Baxter and do some sur-
veying, to learn all I can there. Want to come along,
Karen?
Mmm, yesbut whats the weather like up
there?
The forecast says they expect the wind to lessen
tonight, but we are to phone before we leave New
York in the morning, to check on flying conditions.
Vicki turned hopefully to Jacks uncle and added,
By tomorrow night, operatives V and K will have a
complete follow-up on your report, Mr. Dillon.
The shop will be open tomorrow evening, so I
shall be here waiting for it, he said. And operative
Dhe added with a twinkle in his eyemay have
a report for you. Ill get in touch with persons who
know Quimby, and see if I can locate him.
Reports were good the next morning, so Vicki
and Karen took the train to Baxter. Stone Bridge
was only a flagstop for their train, and the little
station was quite as deserted as Mr. Dillon had
described it.
Smart of somebody, Vicki observed, telling
Mr. Dillon to get off there. Nobody was around to
notice him getting into the ranch wagon.
The Cessna was ready at Baxter Airport, and soon
they were climbing above a snow-clad terrain,


116

where every detail was as sharply etched as a
charcoal drawing. Whenever a building stood amid a
bank of smooth, surrounding snow, it was evident
that the place had not been visited during the past
week. Those mansions that were occupied could be
spotted not only by the open roadways leading to
them, but by coils of smoke rising from the
chimneys.
Vicki had checked the Lathrop mansion on a
photo-map at the airport, so she soon located it from
the air, and traced the back road to the little Stone
Bridge station, which she identified by the railroad
track. Then, flying in circles, she noted other big
estates, pointing down at them for Karens benefit,
since it was Karens job to list them.
Beyond a frozen lake that looked like a great
white plain, they passed over a rolling lawn the size
of a small golf course, with a graystone mansion
larger than any they had so far seen. Vicki recalled
this place from die photo-map, on which it bore the
name of Hyatt. Its driveway was open, and a car was
parked in front of a sizable garage. The thrum of die
Cessnas motor so low overhead promptly brought
two men from the house and another pair from the
garage. When Vicki looked back, she could see their
tiny figures, pegged against the snow, as they stared
after the plane.
After a few more circles over the general terrain,


117

Vicki headed for the airport and landed. She and
Karen checked off various estates against the big
photo-map, eliminating many that their survey
indicated to be unoccupied at this season. Smaller
copies of the map were on sale, so Vicki bought one,
and on the train trip into town, she and Karen spread
it on a seat in front of them, and marked the places
they had checked.
It was still early when they reached the curio
shop. Mr. Dillon was greatly pleased by Vickis
report of their trip.
Very good! Youve done well! Mr. Dillon ex-
claimed. But Im afraid I havent done so well. So
far, I have not been able to learn a thing more about
Mr. Quimby, nor who would have used his name
when making that fake call. I do, however, have
some good news for you. Jack has cabled me that he
will be back in New York within a few days.
I wont be here then, Vicki said ruefully. Im
scheduled for a flight to Teheran tomorrow. Jack can
pick up the trail where I left it.
He certainly will, Mr. Dillon assured her. Why
if he had to start from scratch, with a hundred or so
places to check, it would be impossible. But youve
narrowed it down to a mere dozen, where big estates
are concerned.
Perhaps Ive pinned it down to one. Vicki
pointed to the photo-map. There it isthe Hyatt


118

mansion.
Hyatt? echoed Mr. Dillon. Do you mean Wil-
bur Hyatt?
Thats right, Vicki replied, checking her list.
That was one place that really called out the guard
when we flew over.
As well they might! Mr. Dillon exclaimed.
Why, Wilbur Hyatt is one of the greatest of all
antique collectors. He couldnt risk just keeping a
caretaker, like Lathrop. Hyatt has a full staff on hand
constantly to protect his treasures. Naturally, anyone
flying over his estate would cause a stir among the
people working there.
Then its not as good a lead as I hoped, Vicki
declared. In fact, the ranch wagon could have come
from some car-rental agency, just as easily as from
some big estate. But I thought that if I could narrow
down the estates as a starter, that much time would
be saved.
Jack will appreciate that, Mr. Dillon said. He
put the photo-map and list in a large vault, then
added with a smile, This is where the brass idol
would have gone, if they hadnt decoyed me away
before you could deliver it. But I feel that the statue
will eventually arrive here and that it will be worth
the time and trouble spent in regaining it.
Vicki felt the same way, but she was disappointed
because she was scheduled for a flight the next day,


119

and couldnt follow up the clue of the ranch wagon.
The fact that Jack would be taking over was at least
a help, but to Vicki the time to continue the trail was
now, not later.
Someone had moved fast in the theft of the brass
idol. The only way to outwit such a person was to
move faster!


120



CHAPTER XI

At the Bengali Caf



Vickis aerial survey of the Baxter area had at least
been well-timed, for that night another storm hit
Manhattan. In the morning Vicki rode on the bus out
to Kennedy International Airport, and saw big signs
that the wind had torn from stores and rooftops. Sara
Nicholas was on the bus and she told Vicki that gale
warnings were out all along the Atlantic coast. How
far that might hamper flying conditions remained to
be seen.
As they chatted, Vicki told Sara about the theft of
the Lakshmi statue, and the mystery surrounding it.
Sara listened eagerly and wanted to hear so many
details that by the time Vicki finished, they had
reached the airport. Once there, they learned that
flight schedules had been rearranged, and that
instead of going all the way to Teheran, they were to
lay over a day in Istanbul, then return to New York.
Of all the cities that Vicki had so far visited, Istanbul
was one of the most fascinating, largely because of


121

the glorious past when it had been known as
Constantinople. Its mingling of history, tradition,
and modern progress made each trip to Istanbul a
new experience; and ordinarily, Vicki would have
been delighted at the prospect of a longer stay there.
Now, the odd thought struck her that the loss of
the Lakshmi statue could be the beginning of a run
of bad luck. With this weather, they probably
wouldnt take off on the scheduled flight, so the
layover in Istanbul would be off. Vicki expressed all
that to Sara, who promptly decided to snap her out
of the doldrums.
How about a preflight lunch at the coffee shop?
Sara asked. Well be feeding a lot of ancient
mariners once we take off and it always makes me
feel more competent to be well-fed before that.
All right, if we dont get overstuffed, Vicki re-
plied. We mustnt be sluggish; and anyway, well
be eating later. Remember?
Eating is one thing I never forget, rejoined
Sara, and when I serve meals it helps rouse my
appetite. Whatever my over-all status was when I
won my wings as stewardess, my culinary count was
strictly Triple A.
Tod Benson, captain of the flight crew, was com-
ing from the coffee shop as they entered and Sara
queried cheerily, Think well be hitting the wide
blue yonder, skipper? For answer, Captain Benson


122

took a quarter from a handful of change and flipped
it in the air, smiling as he caught it and went his
way.
Just about a tossup that we take off, Sara told
Vicki. So cheer up. Maybe when we get to Istan-
bul, you can buy Jack one of those pipes the Turks
smokea hookah or a howdah or whatever they call
themto take the place of that brass idol.
Vicki was laughing when they finished their
snack. But when they stopped at the supervisors
office, Vicki learned there had been a phone call for
her, and that a reply was urgent. The number given
was that of Mr. Dillons curio shop. Vicki dialed it,
saying in a worried tone to Sara:
I hope poor Mr. Dillon hasnt encountered more
trouble. If only She paused, as she recognized
the voice across the wire. . . . Yes, this is Miss
Barr. Covering the mouthpiece, Vicki added to
Sara: Its Carl Fowler!
Im here with Mr. Dillon, came Carls smooth,
buttery tone. He tells me that the idol was stolen.
Why didnt you get in touch with me?
Get in touch with you? Vicki demanded.
Where?
Why, in Washington. Didnt I give you the name
of my hotel there? Wait, nowCarls tone became
apologeticI guess I forgot. I knew I would be
coming back to New York in a few days. Anyway,


123

Mr. Dillon tells me that you did a fine job out at
Baxter. If theres any way that I can help
I wouldnt know just how, Vicki interposed.
Why not ask Jack when he gets here?
Ive already told Mr. Dillon that I intend to do
that, Carl replied. So have a good trip, Vicki, and
dont worry.
Thank youand now I simply must run. So
good-by.
Vicki hung up the phone, muttering to herself,
Well! Thats that!
Vickis flight, Number 315, took off on schedule,
despite the heavy overcast. Unlike so many take-
offs, there was no looking back to watch the airport
and its environs drop away like toy buildings; nor
was it like a night flight, when the twinkle of myriad
lights dwindled into nothingness. Everything on the
ground was blanketed in a drizzly haze by the time
die jetliner lifted from the long runway. Then they
were climbing, climbing, a thousand feet a minute
until suddenly they shot from the enshrouding dusk
into the most gorgeous burst of sunlight imaginable.
The plane was above the storm clouds and still
climbing toward the stratosphere, with Captain
Benson finding the weather and the flying condi-
tions just as he wanted them. The billowy clouds,
which they were leaving miles below, resembled the
wave-capped surface of the ocean that they covered.


124

Then, the jet, racing onward, met the surging night
as it came from the opposite direction. Sunset,
afterglow, and twilight all seemed to merge as one,
so rapidly did the dark arrive.
Vicki and Sara were serving dinner in the luxury-
class cabin, pleasing the palates of the passengers
with hors doeuvres, bouillabaisse, on through filet
mignon, lobster diable, and a variety of desserts
ranging from meringue glac to profiteroles au
chocolat. One dish, the filet of sole Marguery,
reminded Vicki of home. Smiling, she said to Sara:
Mmm! Good. Trs bon! It reminds me of my
fathers cooking.
Your fathers cooking, echoed Sara. I thought
he was a college professor.
Thats just his regular job. In his spare time, he
is an amateur chef, and one of the very best, if I may
say so!
They were too busy at the galley for Vicki to say
more just then; but later, she mentioned to Sara that
she hoped she could make a quick jump home, after
their return to New York.
Clear, balmy weather welcomed them in France,
and Paris showed all its wonderful springtime
beauty as they rode into the city from Orly Airport.
A days layover and they were off for Istanbul, by
way of Rome. Vicki had had no time to think about
the brass idol.


125

But Vicki was reminded of Lakshmi in a rather
sudden way when their jetliner reached Rome for an
hours stopover. They arrived early and were
ordered to an immediate landing by the control
tower, because another plane, from Istanbul to Paris,
had been delayed and wasnt quite ready for its take-
off. So the two flights met at the Rome Airport.
There an excited woman rushed up to the steps,
asking, Im not too late, am I? only to stop short
and exclaim, Miss Parr!
Vicki restrained her own response and said with
proper poise, The name is Barr, Miss Bates.
Of course! I had you confused with your friend
Mr. Barlow.
You mean Mr. Fowler, but he is not exactly a
friend of mine
Of course nothow stupid of me! Your friend
was the one with the odd namedont tell me!
Jack Smith!
Vicki nodded. They will both be in New York
soon and I expect to be back in about a week.
Then we must get together, Priscilla said. Ill
be in Paris for a few days; then Ill fly to London
and finally back to New York. Im leaving for Paris
now
But not on this plane, Vicki said. Thats your
plane over there.
Why, so it is! Thank you, Miss Barr!


126

Priscilla hurried off to her plane and Sara came
down the steps to speak to Vicki. Almost breathless,
Sara said:
Why, that must be the Bates womanthe one
you told me about who started you on your acci-
dental trail to the brass idol!
Exactly, Vicki murmured.
How wonderfulits just like a mystery story,
running into her again
You run into many people often, Vicki com-
mented, when you work for Worldwide Airlines.
Well be taking on passengers of our own for Istan-
bul as soon as the gate opens. So make ready!
Sara was right about finding a substitute for the
brass idol in Istanbul. Vicki could have bought any
number of curios in that extraordinary metropolis on
the Bosporous. At Saras urging, they visited
fabulous bazaars, where both bargains and bearded
men were plentiful, but they ran into nothing in the
way of adventure. Vicki thoroughly enjoyed the
shopping tour and bought some inexpensive presents
for her parents and her sister Ginny.
Then came the return flight to Paris, where the
springtime was as joyous as before; and from there,
on to New York, where they landed on an afternoon
that was muggy, but warmish, at least a happy
contrast to the stormy weather that had marked their
departure.


127

Vicki had planned to call Jacks uncle soon after
her arrival, but there seemed no immediate rush
today.
It was later than she anticipated when she did call
Mr. Dillon and her heart sank when she heard a
voice from the answering service, saying that the
shop had already closed. However, when she was
asked to give her name, Vicki did, and the service
operator responded:
Mr. Dillon left a message for you, Miss Barr.
Mr. Jack Smith would like you to meet him for
dinner at six oclock in the Bengali Caf. I can give
you the address
Vicki wrote down the address, which was on a
side street in Manhattans Lower East Side. She had
already set her watch by New York time and a
glance told her that she could catch a bus to the East
Side Airlines Terminal and take a taxi from there
and just about keep the six-oclock date. She made it
almost on the dot, and noted an upstairs window
with the name:

BENGALI CAF

V. B. KESHAVA, Owner

A narrow stairway led up to the caf. Beyond a
large front room where several people were dining,


128



129

Vicki saw an inner room through a curtained door-
way. By then, a squatty, broad-faced man was
greeting her with a gleaming smile:
I am Mr. Keshava. You are Miss Barr, the lady
who wishes to see Mr. Smith?
Yes, I am Miss Barr.
This way, please.
V. B. Keshava bowed and ushered Vicki through
the curtained doorway. The front-room customers
gave quick glances as Vicki passed and she felt
worried when she saw no one at all in the back
room. There, a corner door led through a kitchen and
probably to a back stairs, while the rear wall was
lined with a row of curtains.
Keshava drew back a curtain and bowed her to a
table in a booth, which was lighted by a wall lamp.
The dim glow gave Keshavas face a cunning gleam
as he made a parting bow and dropped the curtain.
Immediately Vicki felt boxed in and helpless. She
began to wonder if someone had faked a call
through the answering service, to lure her into a trap.
Her fear grew with passing moments, and sud-
denly she was confronted by a new dilemma. A
hand drew the curtain aside and Vicki looked up to
see a man dressed in American attire, but wearing
the full beard and turban of a Hindu!


130



CHAPTER XII

Vicki Has Doubts



Vicki gave a horrified gasp. She was trapped!
Twice before, the adventure of the brass idol had
placed her in danger. Once, when she had been
trailed along the Chandni Chowk; again, when she
had surprised the prowler in Karens apartment.
Both times she had used her wits and slipped free.
Now there was no such opportunity.
Vickis thoughts flashed back to a time in Paris
when she had been trapped like this because she had
made the same mistake of accepting a false message.
That had been soon after her first meeting with Jack
Smith. His timely arrival had resulted in her rescue.
If only Jack were here to help her now!
Her wish suddenly came true in a most surprising
way. Instead of moving forward, the threatening
Hindu raised his hands, whipped off the turban with
one and his beard with the other. Blinking, she
found herself staring at the smiling face of Jack
Smith!


131

Jack sat down at the table and V. B. Keshava
promptly appeared in the doorway, also smiling and
bringing a menu. Next, he was taking orders for
some of the Indian dishes that Vicki remembered
from New Delhi. But as soon as Keshava bowed out,
Vicki gestured to the turban and false beard that
Jack had discarded, and demanded indignantly:
Why did you try to scare me with this silly
masquerade?
It isnt a masquerade, Jack replied. Its a dis-
guise Ive been using. Im a detective, remember?
Hot on the trail of the stolen brass idol!
Then there really is a deep plot involving the
brass idol?
Possibly. But it still may be only a blind trail.
Suppose we take it from the beginning.
Jack remained silent while V. B. Keshava served
them two orders of pomegranate juice and Bombay
duck.
While I was in New Delhi, Jack continued as
soon as Keshava had left, I did some checking to
see if secret Hindu cults still existed. I found out that
most of the old groupslike thugs and other
murderous fanaticshave become outmoded, but
that modern equivalents have cropped up. One is the
Future India Society, represented by Naidu Lathi,
the man you saw at Palam Airport. One for all and
all for India is their slogan.


132

That sounds like The Three Musketeers.
Jack smiled at Vickis apt comparison. Then,
turning serious, he continued:
The F.I.S. says that India was once the center of
the civilized world, which it probably was. They
claim that for centuries India was pillaged and bled
by outsiders, which is also true. Now, they say, India
should reclaim its lost wealth and prestige.
They want to take everything from everybody
else?
Not exactly that. They want to take what India
wants and give the world what India does not want.
They will trade in ordinary commodities and they
are willing to export Indias manufactured products.
But they want to retain their art treasures and finer
things.
Even brass idols?
If they have unusual significance, yes. Though I
must admit that I havent found anyone yet who
specially valued your Lakshmi statue
You mean your Lakshmi statue, Jack.
Call it our Lakshmi statue. Jacks smile re-
turned. But I learned that there were real fanatics in
the F.I.S., who would go a lot further than the
practical-minded men I questioned. The idea of
bearded spies following you along the Chandni
Chowk was plausible enough. So I went down there
to have a look for myself.


133

Vickis eyes went wide with inquiry.
Ram Sarraf had closed up shop, Jack stated.
Lock, stock, and brassware, all was gone.
Apparently Ram Sarraf was afraid of something.
This group was after him for selling me the brass
idol?
Possibly. But on the contrary, he could have
been working with them. In that case, he would want
to avoid investigators like myself.
Then why did he sell me the idol at all?
Perhaps through a mistake, or before the right
customer came along. But there was a simpler
explanation, as I saw it. You remember that card
Priscilla Bates had with Ram Sarrafs name and
address printed on it, but the phone number of some
fly-by-night jeweler written on the back?
Vicki nodded.
Well, that man might have been working with
Ram Sarraf, steering customers there after they
phoned him. In that case, Ram Sarraf was crooked,
too, so he closed out fast, once he was linked to the
other man. So I thought I had hit on the simple
answer until I arrived back in New York and called
my uncle. When he told me that the Lakshmi statue
had been stolen before you could deliver it, my mind
went back to those bearded men in New Delhi.
And so, Vicki said with a smile, you decided
to become a bearded Hindu yourself.


134

Not right away, Jack replied. First, I contacted
Carl Fowler. Uncle Roger had heard from him and
told me where to reach him.
And what, Vicki asked icily, did Carl have to
say?
He went along with the fanatic theory, Jack
declared. Carl felt that it would take somebody
important, with international connections, to send
along word from New Delhi and have the idol stolen
in New York.
And who, asked Vicki, in the same tone,
would be better able to do just that than Carl
Fowler? Since you are a detective, why didnt you
mark him down as Suspect Number One?
I did, Jack acknowledged, and I eliminated
him for that same reason. If Carl had wanted that
brass idol, he could have bought it before you did; or
he could have talked you out of buying it when he
happened to come into Ram Sarrafs.
You are right about that, Vicki admitted in a
musing tone. But perhaps Carl didnt know that the
idol was particularly important until after he learned
that I had been followed along the Chandni Chowk.
He didnt know it, Jack said quietly. Thats
what he told me. He also said that if he had even
suspected that it might be stolen, he would have
insisted that you let him keep it overnight when you
found that my uncle had gone away. You would


135

probably have let Carl keep it, too.
Yes, Vicki acknowledged, I would have at that
time. And if Carl had said, later, it had been stolen, I
would have believed him. But how did these people
manage it?
We talked about it too much in New Delhi,
Jack decided ruefully. The word got ahead and the
plotters coaxed my uncle from his shop, then kept
watch there.
Thats possible! Vicki said. I remember that
Carl had the taxi wait while he made inquiries on the
block. They could have trailed us.
Thats what Carl thinks. Jack nodded. So he
introduced me to Mr. Keshava, who owns this
restaurant and has friends who attend some of the
F.I.S. meetings. So I went with them, wearing the
beard and turban.
And you understood enough Hindi to know what
they were talking about?
They spoke mostly in English, Jack replied
with a smile. We just listened and nobody paid any
attention to us. Most everyone was wearing an
Indian costume. He grinned. Who knows? They
may have thought I was a member of a delegation
from the United Nations.
Then these people arent fanatics?
Hardly. They talk about trade, the growth of
India, their message for world peace. But you feel,


136

underneath all their talk, they could be roused if
anyone disputed their theories.
Did you see any suspicious charactersVicki
repressed a shudderlike that prowler in Karens
apartment?
None at all, Jack told her. Uncle Roger gave
me a fairly good secondhand description of what
you said he looked like. That prowler was probably
just someone hired for the job. Maybe Carl will have
some ideas when he gets here.
You are expecting him?
Yes, hes coming in from Washington, but he is
having dinner on the plane, so he told us not to
wait.
Vicki and Jack had almost finished their elaborate
meal when Carl arrived and joined them for some of
the exotic desserts. Carl was more serious than Vicki
had ever seen him before and he had lost much of
his sleek manner.
Ive been having problems with Naidu Lathi,
Carl declared. He is down in Washington, you
know, selling India to a big international trade
convention that theyre holding there. Hes doing a
good job from his standpoint, but not from mine. I
cant place any advertising in the Bazaar Buyer
without his endorsement; and he is the most arro-
gant, impossible person that I have ever met.
I thought you had filled the book with adver-


137

tising, Jack observed, and that it had all been
approved.
That applied to Indian concerns, Carl ex-
plained. I came here to close some big deals with
American companies who want to sell their products
in India. Now, unless they sign Naidu Lathis terms
for what he calls fair trade relations, he and the
Future India Society will blacklist the Bazaar Buyer
and my trip here will be a total loss. Carl shook his
head grimly. Well, Ill be seeing Naidu Lathi again
when he comes to New York. If I dont make out
then, I may as well cash in my return ticket to New
Delhi and look for a job here in New York.
Both Jack and Vicki sympathized with Carl, who
soon managed to shake off his glum mood as he
suggested to Jack:
Lets get back to our search for the brass idol.
You told me you were driving up to Baxter to check
on the surrounding territory. How did you make out?
Rather well, Jack replied, thanks to Vickis
aerial survey.
That was really nothing, Vicki declared mod-
estly. You could have flown over the countryside
yourself, Jack, and eliminated all the estates and
summer places that were unoccupied or still snow-
bound.
You think so? Do you remember what the
weather was like when you took off on your Paris


138

flight?
It was warm and rainy. The ceiling was closing
in, enough to worry us about the visibility.
And it kept closing in. There were three days of
steady rain that had just ended when I arrived in
New York. There was hardly a splotch of snow
around Baxter. Instead, the reservoirs were full and
the creeks were flooding all the meadows. The back
roads were worse than snowbound; they were all
muddy. Id have had to check a hundred places if it
hadnt been for your list cutting it down to a dozen.
You checked all of those?
Yes, from the Hyatt estate down to the smallest.
But nobody knew anything about a green-and-white
ranch wagon that might have masqueraded as a
taxi.
Then my survey wasnt so important after all.
In a way, it was more important. It gave me a
new lead. Now Im checking garages and repair
shops in all the small towns around Baxter, to see if
I can trace the mystery car through them. Id like to
invite you along, Vicki, but I have a better job for
you!
For instance?
Visiting all the antique shops in the area. Uncle
Roger has learned that Quimby was quietly offering
his stock to them, so some of them would have
known that he had retired.


139

Then such a person could have made that phone
call to your uncle!
Exactly. Whoever called knew that my uncle
knew Quimby by reputation, and therefore would go
out to Lathrops on Quimbys say-so. He also knew
that Uncle Roger did not know that Quimby had
retired, because it had not yet been announced.
Then that points to one of the dealers who
bought up some of Quimbys stock!
Thats right, Vicki. Your job is to find out who
they are, by looking for antiques that Quimby once
sold. My uncle still has the last list that Quimby sent
out. If you find any of those items, check back with
me.
Carl Fowler came up with a further suggestion.
Have your uncle check all New York antique shops
handling Oriental wares. They might just have a lead
on the brass idol. I wish I could help, but Ive got to
fine up some things and get ready to argue things
out with Naidu Lathi.
Mention of that name brought a reminiscent smile
to Vickis face.
By the way, she said, I saw an old friend of
Naidu Lathis who had just flown in to Rome from
Istanbul. I wonder if you could guess who.
Priscilla Bates! Jack and Carl voiced the name
in unison and Vickis smile widened as she nodded.
She asked to be remembered to both of you,


140

added Vicki. She had forgotten your names as
usual, but that didnt bother her. Shell be flying into
New York soon, she said.
Neither Jack nor Carl seemed interested in Pris-
cilla as they parted outside the Bengali Caf. Jack
took Vicki by taxi to the hotel where she was stop-
ping with another stewardess. During the ride, he
commented, You see how cooperative Carl Fowler
has been? What are your reasons for suspecting
him? Id like to know.
Vicki thought for a few moments, then ticked
them off on her fingers. Hes been mixed up in this
from the beginning. He was in Ram Sarrafs shop
when I bought the idol
Which could be coincidence, Jack cut in.
He was standing by when I brought the idol
through customs
Because he wanted to take you into town in a
taxi.
Of course. So he could go with us to your
uncles shop. Why?
Why? Because he knew you were worried about
Lakshmi. Werent you?
In a way, yes, Vicki admitted. But Carl came
all the way to Karens apartment. He looked out the
window
Probably to make sure it was safe, which un-
fortunately, it didnt turn out to be.


141

Vicki paused, then blurted out, Why dont we
forget the whole thing? Im very fond of
Lakshmiher eyes grew soft for a momentand
it was a gift to you. But why go on with it?
They were at the hotel, and as Jack saw Vicki to
the door, he said grimly, Were going on with it for
one reason. This mystery is much bigger and deeper
than we suppose, and there is only one way to solve
it. That is to find the Lakshmi statue.
Vickis eyes opened wide at Jacks grim tone of
voice. Youre right, Jack, she agreed. We must
go on with it!


142



CHAPTER XIII

The Antique Trail



After a brief trip home, Vicki returned to New York,
where her first stop was at Mr. Dillons curio shop
to pick up Quimbys list. There she learned that Jack
was still checking in the Baxter area, but that so far,
he had gained no leads to the mysterious green-and-
white ranch wagon.
Vicki was about to leave when a gray-haired man
with a pointed mustache strode brusquely into the
shop. In an undertone Mr. Dillon asked Vicki to wait
a moment. Then he said:
Miss Barr, may I present Mr. Hyatt? As the
gray-haired gentleman bowed, Mr. Dillon added,
She is the young lady who flew over your estate a
week or so ago.
Indeed! Mr. Hyatt said to Vicki. We thought
you were one of my friends about to attempt a
landing.
In all that snow? asked Vicki, quite horrified.
I have friends foolish enough to try, Hyatt re-


143

plied. They land often in the summer and never
realize how rough those smooth lawns can be when
they are covered with ice, and the snow drifts over
them. Now, they are even worseall soggy with
mud, like a marsh.
That I can well imagine, Vicki agreed.
But of one thing I am certain, Hyatt declared.
He turned to Mr. Dillon and his tone rang with real
indignation. No friend of mine would ever stoop to
the shoddy trick of impersonating Quimby and
calling you out on a wild-goose chase to Lathrops
place. You should tell them both about it.
It wouldnt do any good, Mr. Dillon objected.
Lathrop is in Bermuda and Quimby is in Florida.
They couldnt possibly know a thing about it.
I suppose not, Hyatt grumbled. Then, his affa-
ble mood returning, he declared, I wish your
nephew luck in tracking down the miscreant re-
sponsible for that outrageous hoax. Since he is a
detective, he should certainly crack the case.
With that, Hyatt turned to Vicki and added, And,
Miss Barr, I should be more than delighted to have
you drop in out of the sky at any time. But be sure to
notify me when you are coming so I can report on
the condition of my lawn as a landing field.
Wilbur Hyatt finished his little speech with a
courtly bow and strolled out to a chauffeured
limousine that was waiting for him. As the big car


144

drove away, Mr. Dillon turned to Vicki and beamed
with satisfaction.
Mr. Hyatt happened to come in a week ago,
Mr. Dillon informed her. I told him about my trip
to Lathrops and how you and Jack were trying to
track down the hoax. He has been in a few times
since and wondered how you were making out.
So far, we have gotten nowhere, Vicki rejoined
glumly. Then, trying to sound more cheerful, she
said, Please tell Jack that my flight goes out this
afternoon, but that Ill be back in a few days, ready
to scour the countryside for dealers who bought
some of Quimbys stock.
When Vicki returned from her flight, she and
Karen had dinner with Jack at the Bengali Caf. For
three hours V. B. Keshava overwhelmed them with
Indian dishes so delicious that Karen thought they
should be recommended to Worldwide as regular
features on their menu. But after Karen was
officially appointed a part-time operative, they
settled down to serious business.
Talking to garagemen out Baxter way, Jack
said, is like talking to the stone walls along the
roads. You get nothing for an answer. Still, I hope to
locate a green-and-white ranch wagon, unless
somebody has already painted it stratosphere blue
and sunset pink.
Both Vicki and Karen laughed at that, for they


145

had often seen that blend of colors during their
flights.
Whatever Karen and I learn from the antique
trade, said Vicki, will be covered in a prompt
report. You can backtrack from there.
The girls took a train to Westbury the next
morning, hired a car for the day, and covered the
New York-Connecticut line. In both states, they
found the forsythia in blossom, but the antique
shops, as Vicki expressed it, were in a state of semi-
hibernation.
Those that were long established specialized in
Americana only, and New England in particular.
Others, hoping to thrive on the summer trade, were
sure they had exactly what Vicki and Karen wanted.
But their stocks failed to produce anything
resembling a brass idol. Whenever the girls
mentioned items on Quimbys last list, they drew an
absolute blank.
Vicki bluntly asked one elderly lady if she hap-
pened to know Lloyd Quimby, the Westbury antique
dealer. The womans reply was also blunt:
Dear me, yes. I am so glad that he went out of
business. He was always nagging us to buy his
surplus stock, and threatening to undercut our retail
prices if we didnt.
Others voiced similar opinions, which Vicki re-
ported to Jack, when they met at places where their


146

routes converged. Jack was having trouble, too.
There was too much time between your aerial
survey, Jack declared, and my first trip to Baxter.
Somebody realized what was up, and they closed the
trail fast. Id like to know just who it was.
Vicki was on the point of suggesting Carl Fowler,
but she didnt. On Karens last day, they lunched
with Jack at an inn called the Red Mill; then Vicki
drove to the town of Pleasantview and put Karen on
an early train to New York. From there, Vicki
continued to Westbury to turn in the car and take a
late train.
Often, Karen had insisted that a car was following
them during their rounds, and Vicki had laughed at
the notion. Now, driving alone, Vicki began to have
the same sensation, so she sped into Westbury ahead
of the gathering dusk. Approaching the rental
garage, she swung past Quimbys old antique shop,
which had been boarded up tight. Now, to her
surprise, the shop was open, and a lavish display
showed in the plate-glass window, including
Oriental antiques.
Vicki parked the car around the corner and
strolled back to the shop. As she entered, a moon-
faced young man with a slow, tired manner gave her
an inquiring stare. Calmly Vicki asked:
You are Mr. Quimby?
Mr. Quimby has retired, the man replied. I am


147

managing the shop now. Is there anything special
that interests you?
Oriental art, chiefly.
In there. The young man waved toward an
inner room. Unfortunately, our stock of Oriental art
is limited.
It wasnt too limited for Vicki. From amid the
bric-a-brac that cluttered one of the shelves stared a
familiar metal face, adorned with colorful beads that
looked like imitation gems. Vicki had found the
stolen brass idol!
There was no mistaking the complacent face of
Lakshmi. Eagerly Vicki reached for the statue, only
to find the moonfaced man beside her. His hands
gripped the idol first, but between them, he and
Vicki tilted it, and she saw her V mark inside. Then
the man had pushed the idol deeper on the shelf.
Sorry, he declared. This item has been sold.
As a matter of fact, someone is on the way to pick it
up.
How can that be? Vicki demanded. You only
opened today.
Probably somebody bought it from Mr. Quimby
before he closed up.
That couldnt be, for Quimby had quit business
before Vicki arrived in New York with the Lakshmi
statue. But she didnt argue the point. Instead, she
smilingly left the shop, but once she was back in the


148

car, she drove around the block and pulled into a
darkened parking lot, where she turned off the
fights. From there, she had a good view of Quimbys
old shop.
Within a half hour, a trim convertible rolled up
and stopped in front of Quimbys. A woman stepped
from the car and entered the shop, but her back was
turned so that Vicki could not see her face.
Five minutes later the same woman emerged,
carrying a wrapped object, the size of the Lakshmi
statue. Vicki saw her face and recognized it. The
woman was Priscilla Bates!
As Priscilla pulled away in her car, Vicki waited
until she had turned the corner; then followed the
car. Priscilla was in a hurry, for her bright lights
skimmed along the back roads that led away from
Westbury. But Vicki knew those back roads, too,
and was able to keep up with the car ahead. After a
dozen miles, Priscilla began picking her way, and
Vicki was able to slow down and dim her lights.
Then, rounding a long bend, Priscillas lights van-
ished completely, and Vicki was puzzled until she
saw a gateway set deep in a high hedge at the right.
Vicki took the same turn and her lights disclosed a
big No Trespassing sign, but she kept right on.
A curving drive emerged from thick woods and
crossed a wide, rolling lawn, toward a huge, well-
lighted mansion. As Vicki approached, a car pulled


149



150

out to block her, and as she stopped short, two uni-
formed men alighted and came up to her car.
We are township police, one man said. Turn
your car around and follow us to police head-
quarters.
But I have my drivers license, Vicki protested,
and a license for this rented car. I wasnt
speeding
Look, lady, this isnt a traffic violation. There
has been a formal complaint regarding trespassers,
registered by Mr. Hyatt
Mr. Hyatt! broke in Vicki. You must mean
Wilbur Hyatt!
The whole setting cleared. Under the moonlight,
Vicki was viewing the same house and grounds that
she had flown over a few weeks before. Now, the
moons silvery glow produced a frosty effect that
gave the lawns something of their snowy look. In a
confident tone Vicki announced:
I am a friend of Mr. Hyatts. He told me I was
welcome to drop in at any time. My name is Vicki
Barr, so please go and ask him.
One officer went into the house and soon re-
turned. He waved Vicki into the mansion and she
entered quite jauntily. There she was received by a
bowing servant, who said, This way, please, as he
conducted her into a lavish reception room. Then he
said politely, Wait here, please. Mr. Hyatt will see


151

you in his study shortly.
Shortly! To Vicki, that meant far too long. Here
she was, on the trail of the stolen brass idol, know-
ing now that it was linked in some way with
Priscilla Bates, but she was sure her chance to solve
the mystery would slip away unless she acted
promptly. Quietly Vicki accepted the order to wait
in the reception room, but the moment the servant
was gone, she decided to do some exploring.
Straight ahead were closed doors that probably
led directly to Hyatts study, so instead, she took an
open doorway to the right, hoping to get there by a
roundabout route. A side hall led past a partly
opened door and Vicki could hear voices coming
from beyond. She went through the door into a
small, dark office with a doorway beyond, screened
by an Oriental beaded curtain. The voices were
louder and now quite recognizable. Approaching
stealthily, Vicki cautiously peered from the side of
the curtain into a large, handsomely paneled room
that was obviously Hyatts study. She barely
suppressed an audible gasp. There, three persons
were seated beside a table: Wilbur Hyatt, Carl
Fowler, and Priscilla Bates. On the table, glittering
in all its brassy splendor, stood the statue of
Lakshmi!


152



CHAPTER XIV

Vicki Listens In



Hyatt, in his blunt, businesslike way, was
summarizing something that the group apparently
had already discussed. Vicki heard him say to
Priscilla, You are sure this is the statue that you
saw in New Delhi? The one that Vicki Barr brought
to the airport there?
Priscilla studied the statue closely, then nodded.
And it is the same statue that you picked up
tonight? quizzed Hyatt. Down at the antique shop
in Westbury?
Thats right, Priscilla acknowledged. Carl said
that Vicki had sold it. When Quimbys shop
reopened, he discovered the idol there. So he paid
for it and held it in my name. After all, I was
supposed to have bought it in New Delhi, wasnt I?
You certainly were, Hyatt agreed. Just be-
cause plans went wrong in New Delhi is no reason
they should go wrong here. What I want now is a
detailed statement regarding the statue. Granville is


153

readyHyatt gestured to a corner, where Vicki
saw a dapper young man seated at a typewriter
and he will take down whatever you say. So go
right ahead.
Priscilla went right ahead.
Well, first your letter reached me when I was in
Saigon, Priscilla told Hyatt. You wanted me to
hop to New Delhi and buy a special Hindu idola
Lakshmi statuethat you felt was a good collectors
item. You enclosed a card with Ram Sarrafs name
on it and a telephone number written on the back.
You specified the exact day that I was to stop at the
shop and your letter said that if I ran into any trouble
I should call the phone number
Priscilla broke off suddenly and asked in a
puzzled tone, Why isnt Granville typing this?
Youre making it too long, Hyatt replied.
Keep it down to the important facts, like this: I,
Priscilla Bates, heard that a brass idol was for sale at
the shop of Ram Sarraf in New Delhi. So I went
there to buy it. That covers it, doesnt it?
Priscilla nodded, while Granville typed the
statement as Hyatt had worded it. Priscilla then went
on:
I lost the card at the airport in New Delhi while I
was trying to get Naidu Lathis autograph. I re-
membered the name of the shop and went there late
the next morning. I asked if he had a brass idol, and


154

he should have said, Do you mean a Lakshmi?
only he didnt. Instead, he said, I just sold my last
idol to someone else. Sorry! So I left and phoned
the number that was on the cardwhich Id
fortunately rememberedand a mans voice said,
Give me your name, please. I gave it and the man
asked, You have Lakshmi? I said, No. Ram Sarraf
had sold it, and the man said, I put Mr. Fowler on.
So Mr. Fowler came on.
As before, Granville was simply waiting, instead
of typing. Hyatt swung to the secretary and ordered:
Condense that, Granville. Just quote Miss Bates
as saying that when she reached Ram Sarrafs, the
idol had been sold. She wondered if she could find
out who had bought it, so she got in touch with Mr.
Carl Fowler, publisher of the Bazaar Buyer, thinking
he might help.
While Granville typed that, Hyatt said to Priscilla,
Go on.
Well, between us, Carl and I learned that an
airline stewardess named Vicki Barr had bought the
idol, Priscilla continued. So we contacted Miss
Barr and a friend of hers, Jack Smith, but Carl and I
pretended that we hadnt met
Hyatt raised his hand in interruption and told
Granville to eliminate any mention of the pretense.
He gestured for Priscilla to continue.
Later on, said Priscilla, Carl and I talked it


155

over and he decided that since Vicki had bought the
idol, we might as well let her take it back to New
York, and then buy it from her, or get her to sell it to
Mr. Hyatt, who really wanted it. So thats how we
left it. Anyway, the idol got here
And for all you know, put in Hyatt, Miss Barr
might have sold it to the shop in Westbury, where
Carl Fowler located it later.
Thats right. Priscilla nodded. So I bought it
and here it is.
Type it that way, Hyatt told Granville, then
read it back to us so that you can prepare final
copies for Miss Bates to sign.
Granville complied and Vicki almost gasped as
she heard the secretary read the shortened statement
aloud. In simplified form, it ran:
I, Priscilla Bates, heard that a brass idol was for
sale at the shop of Ram Sarraf in New Delhi. So I
went there to buy it, but it had been sold. I wondered
who had bought it, so I got in touch with Mr. Carl
Fowler, of the Bazaar Buyer, thinking he might
help. We learned that an airline stewardess named
Vicki Barr had bought the idol and we contacted
Miss Barr and a friend of hers, Jack Smith. She
brought the idol back to New York, where she must
have sold it to a shop in Westbury, because I bought
it there later.
No mention of Hyatt, nothing about the special


156

phone number that Priscilla had called, and which
both she and Carl had brushed off when they had
talked to Vicki and Jack in New Delhi. What was
more, the statement completely ignored the act put
on by Priscilla and Carl, in pretending that they had
never even heard of each other. After Priscilla
signed that statement, Granville notarized it; then
Carl made a statement of his own, which the
secretary typed:
By a coincidence, Carl dictated, I was in Ram
Sarraf s shop when Vicki Barr bought the idol. So
when Miss Bates phoned me, I already had a de-
scription of the purchaser, and I immediately put my
office force to work, trying to trace her. Miss Bates
and I were fortunately successful in contacting Miss
Barr. I left New Delhi on Miss Barrs plane and
arrived at New York at the same time she did.
There, I saw her bring the brass idol through
customs.
Carls statement was true, but omitted significant
facts. It sounded as though Priscilla had called his
office, instead of the special number. It, too, failed
to mention their pretenses about knowing each
other. Carl signed his statement and Granville
notarized it; then both Carl and Priscilla checked
over a batch of photographs that fitted with their
statements.
Heres a close-up of the idol taken at the Palam


157

Airport, Carl said. From the angle that its being
held, you can see a V scratched inside it. Thats the
secret mark I saw Vicki Barr make at Ram Sarrafs,
so she would know if Sarraf switched idols on her.
How clever! Priscilla exclaimed. She turned to
the table, tilted the Lakshmi statue, and peered
inside it. Why, heres that very same mark. That
proves this is the idol that came from Ram Sarrafs.
How clever!
Behind the curtain, Vicki winced at Priscillas
repeated praise. She didnt feel at all clever; instead,
she felt that, somehow, she had been tricked. Just
how and why, Vicki didnt quite know, but she was
determined to find out. She watched while both Carl
and Priscilla signed statements identifying the
various photographs and their authenticity. Then, as
Vicki wondered what was coming next, a break
came her way.
I want you to go out by the side door, Hyatt
told Priscilla, so you wont run into Vicki Barr. My
chauffeur is waiting with the limousine. He will
drive you to the airport in New York. Have a good
trip, my dear! And I hope you like your new job in
Rio.
Vicki grew rigid and tense. Why was Hyatt
anxious not only to get Priscilla out of the house, but
out of the country? And what could his reasons be
for getting those statements? She was determined to


158

find out. Whatever the mystery, Priscilla was its
weakest link. And right now, Hyatt was ushering
Priscilla straight to the screened doorway.
Quickly Vicki retreated through the darkened
room and reached the side hall. She moved along
toward an outer door and waited in the gloom. A
minute later Priscilla came that way. Vicki stepped
out suddenly and blocked her.
Wait, Priscilla! I must talk to you, she whis-
pered.
You! Priscillas eyes opened wide.
Sh-h-h! Vicki quickly clapped her hand over
Priscillas mouth. Be quiet and listen. I overheard
everything. Something nasty is going on here. Were
both mixed up in it. And theyre making a bigger
fool of you than they are of me!
Why, why! Priscillas gaze fairly blazed, then
subsided like her tone. Why, yes, I think youre
right! I dont know whats going on
But youd like to find out, wouldnt you?
I most certainly would. Id like to know just
what Im mixed up in!
Then come on. Lets listen!
A few minutes later they were both behind the
curtain, Vicki watching from one side, Priscilla from
the other. Granville was still busy at the typewriter.
Hyatt was smiling. And now, Carl, I want a few
minutes conversation with you while we give


159

Priscilla time to be well out of the way. Then
Granville can show Miss Barr to my study. Now Id
like you to tell me again why things went wrong at
Ram Sarrafs.
Things didnt really go wrong, Carl declared.
They just worked out oddly, I would say. Lets
look at it from my viewpoint. My job was to plant a
brass idol at Ram Sarrafs and have someone buy it
and bring it to New York so that that person could
swear later it had come through customs as a cheap
brass idol, nothing more. Right?
Right. Hyatt nodded.
I couldnt bring it in myself, Carl continued. I
couldnt take that chance, we all agreed. I asked you
to send someone I had never even seena real
dumb cluck, but someone who would take orders.
You supplied the perfect examplethis Priscilla
Bates.
Vicki heard an angry gasp beside her and turned
just in time to stop Priscilla from charging through
the curtain.
Hold it! Vicki cautioned her with a signal.
As the day drew near, Carl said, I began to
figure that the only sure way to prove the idol really
went straight through from New Delhi would be to
mark it. So I decided Id watch the shop until
Priscilla came there. Then I would drop in and
suggest that she mark the idol, like a friendly


160

stranger might. Then that made me think of some-
thing else.
What if this dizzy woman left the idol lying
around somewhere, so that anybody might walk
away with it? So it struck me that I ought to throw a
scare into her so shed call me at the special number.
Then I could be johnny-on-the-spot and tag along
with her, clear to New Yorkwhere I was going
anyway. Then I could add my statement to hers, as I
just did tonight.
Good reasoning. Hyatt gave an approving nod.
But howhow did you put it?throw a scare into
her?
Very easily. Carl chuckled. I hired half a
dozen bearded Hindus and put them in striped robes
so that anybody would be sure to notice them. I
planted them across from Ram Sarrafs while I
stayed out of sight in a doorway. At a signal from
me, they were to follow whoever came out of the
shop and make sure she knew she was being
followed. Two American girls came along, and I
figured one was Priscilla and the other a friend of
hers. So I signaled the men to follow them.
Then, of course, it was Miss Barr who bought
the statue.
Yes. By a freak of chance, she asked for a brass
idol. So I thought she was Priscilla when I found
Ram Sarraf selling her the idol. She took my advice


161

to mark it. When she left with the package, the
bearded men trailed her and her girl friend. Those
Hindus put on a good act. Vicki Barr really fell for
it. Shes a little on the dumb side, too. Carl grinned.
It was Vickis turn to seethe. She gave an in-
dignant gasp but quickly suppressed it.
After Priscilla went to the shop, Carl went on,
she phoned me to say the idol had been sold by
mistake. So I invited her to lunch. Id rather have
choked her for getting us into this jam and making it
necessary to change our plans.
We tried to figure how to find the girl who
bought the idol. We didnt have long to worry be-
cause Vicki and Jack Smith had met Akbar, the
photographer, and were already looking for Priscilla
and myselfseparately, of course.
So you believe it all worked out for the best, do
you?
Absolutely. Priscilla never guessed how im-
portant the brass idol could be; and I doubt that
Vicki guessed it either.
Vicki was doing some hard guessing right now,
but she was listening closely, hoping for more clues.
Hyatt turned to Granville and ordered him to go
to the reception room and show Miss Barr into the
study.
As Granville left, Carl picked up the statue and
started toward the curtained doorway. Maybe Id


162

better step out of sight and take the idol with me.
Priscilla grasped Vickis arm nervously. Lets
get out of here! she whispered frantically.
But Vicki signaled her to be quiet and not move.
For as Carl started for the doorway, Hyatt stopped
him with a gesture to put the statue back on the
table.
I want her to see the statue, Hyatt said. We
will have to change our plans again.
Come onlets go! Vicki started to whisper
when with one sweeping motion a pair of arms
caught both Vicki and Priscilla from behind in a
tight trip, at the same time impelling them forward
in the study. As they struggled to free themselves,
they looked back and saw the grinning face of
Granville, who promptly announced to Hyatt:
Miss Barr wasnt in the reception room, so I
went to look for her and found her. You said to
bring in Miss Barr? Here she isand Miss Bates
with her!


163



CHAPTER XV

Trapped!



Well! Well! Well! What have we here? This is an
unexpected pleasure, Hyatt said with a broad smile.
Two very attractive guestscome to visit me. But
under such strange circumstances, I must say.
With a mock bow, Hyatt stepped forward and
bowed them both to chairs. They sat down defiantly.
Vicki was annoyed because she would rather have
barged in from the curtained doorway to take Hyatt
and Carl by surprise than be caught like this.
Priscilla was angry because she had stayed long
enough to be caught flat-footed.
Well, Miss Barr, how nice to see you again!
Hyatt smiled again. He stepped forward, reached for
a square ivory box on a table near Vickis chair, and
said, Do you mind if I smoke a cigar?
Vicki replied shortly, No, not at all! Priscilla
just stared at him. He picked up the box and opened
it. Granville leaped forward, saying, Please have
one of mine, Mr. Hyatt. Hyatt took the cigar and


164

Granville lit it for him. Mmm! Good! Your taste is
excellent, Granville. Then suddenly Hyatt wheeled
toward Vicki:
How long have you been eavesdropping, Miss
Barr? he asked harshly.
Shes heard everything that you, Carl and I
said! Priscilla snapped. As for that Carl
Hyatt raised his hand to silence her. Exactly
what did you hear, Miss Barr?
Enough to know that you and Carl are mixed up
in some way with the Lakshmi idol. She gestured
toward the table. It doesnt belong to you. Its
mine, as you probably know. It was stolen from
me.
Now, Miss BarrHyatt gestured toward the
tableis that the brass idol that you brought from
New Delhi?
Yes, Ive already
Are you sure? Hyatt asked her.
Something in his tone warned Vicki to be on
guard. Why, why It looks like it.
Hyatt turned to Carl and said, Show her the
mark.
Carl tipped the statue as he had for Priscilla, and
pointed to the thinly scratched V.
Thats the secret mark you made at Ram
Sarrafs, isnt it?
Again she answered cautiously, It looks like it.


165

What could Wilbur Hyatts game be? Vicki
wondered. And why was Granville busy with a
camera, shooting pictures of her and the idol as she
was being questioned? She had no idea what this
was really all about. But she did know she must
watch her step.
Hyatt then had Granville read off the signed
statements that Vicki had heard Carl and Priscilla
make. When that was done, Hyatt asked bluntly,
And now, Miss Barr, would you be willing to sign
a statement of your own, saying that all you have
just seen and heard is true?
Well . . . She paused for a moment, then
quickly decided to play along with Hyatt. Why,
yes, I would, replied Vicki. She paused again, and
glanced significantly first at Carl and then Priscilla.
Except for one thing, she added. Neither of those
statements is the whole truth. They only told part of
the story . . . and Carl and Priscilla know that!
Do you wish to add anything else? Hyatt asked
Vicki. No? . . . In that case, he said, it wont be
necessary for you to sign a statement. You have
already confirmed all the essential facts.
Hyatt picked up the ivory box and walked over to
Vicki. As he did, Granville shot another close-up.
Vicki was staring at the box. Her eyes opened wide.
It wasnt filled with cigars. Instead, it held a
miniature tape recorder.


166

Listen to this playback, Miss Barr, if you will,
Hyatt suggested softly with a knowing smile.
Perhapsno, I am sureyou will be interested.
He ran the tape through, and Vicki heard her own
statements that the idol looked like the one she had
brought from India and that the secret mark also
looked like hers. Granvilles voice read off the
statements made by Carl and Priscilla. Then, when
asked if she would sign a statement of her own,
Vickis reply came: Why, yes, I would.
At that point, Hyatt pressed a switch and the tape
kept spooling, but there was no sound. Then Hyatt
pressed another switch and his voice came in with:
In that case, it wont be necessary for you to sign a
statement. You have already confirmed all the
essential facts.
Hyatt stopped the recorder and handed the box to
Granville. Cut out that stretch in between, Hyatt
ordered, and splice the tape. Then make a new
recording from it. That can go with the films
showing Miss Barr testifying and all the other evi-
dence.
Vicki sat there almost numbed with amazement.
Is this really happening to me? she wondered.
Am I having a nightmare?
This recording is all I really need, but I would
prefer a signed statement, like the others. Hyatts
words cut across Vickis thoughts. I would be


167

willing to pay for itsay, five hundred dollars
His voice became smooth and persuasive.
He paused, as though ready to go higher. But now
Vicki was angry.
Suppose I refuse to sign at any price?
In that case Hyatt started to say.
Im leaving right now! Vicki leaped from her
chair. And Im taking Lakshmi with me! Shes
mine!
None of the men was close enough to stop her
from snatching the idol from the table. But it seemed
to slip from her arms because of its own sheer
weight. She barely managed to plant it back on the
table with a resounding thump.
Whywhy! Its much heavier than it was be-
fore! she exclaimed. Itsits
Hyatts face grew livid with rage. He swung
around to Carl and shouted, I thought you were
sure shed never notice!
Carl collapsed into a chair. He looked stunned, as
if he had been hit hard and had the breath knocked
out of him.
Youyou Well, never mind that now! Hyatt
snapped. He swung back to Vicki. Yes, Miss Barr,
he said coldly, a fierce glint in his eyes. It is
heavierheavier than brass. Its Have you any
idea, my clever Miss Barr? Its
Gold! Vicki exclaimed. She paused, over-


168

whelmed by the thought. Then, as she met Hyatts
cold stare, she blurted out, Why, its the real gold
idolthe idol from Jaitharworth half a million
dollars!
You look pale, Miss Barr, Hyatt said with a
sneering smile. Please do sit down in that com-
fortable chair and rest a moment.
Grateful for the breathing spell, Vicki walked
stiffly back to her chair and sat down. Her thoughts
were in a whirl. If only she had time to think, to try
to figure this out. But there wasnt time! She had to
play this by ear, as Jack would have said.
Mr. Hyatt, she said, trying to keep her voice
from shaking, since this idol is actually yours, then
that statement Im supposed to have made means
nothing, of course.
On the contrary, Hyatt said, shaking his head,
it means much. Like these othershe gestured to
Carl and Priscillayou have identified this as the
idol you brought from India. That puts the burden on
you.
But Im sure my idol was lighter, Vicki said
firmly. And what about the customs inspector? He
surely wouldnt have let a gold statue go through!
Wouldnt he? Hyatt turned to Carl. What
would you say?
The inspection was very superficial, replied
Carl, who seemed to be his old self again. I saw it


169

come through. The customs man didnt even weigh
the idol. He classed it along with a lot of other junk
that goes through every day.
So you see, it would be unwise, Miss Barr,
Hyatt said softly, for you of all people to go to the
customs authorities about this. You would be
admitting that you brought a genuine gold idol
through illegally.
Then, if thats the case, Mr. Hyatt, the idol really
belongs to me.
Not so fast, young lady, Hyatt said. Not ac-
cording to the bill of sale, which lists the idol as an
exact copy and not an original. Fortunately, we
have that sales slip, signed by Ram Sarraf, along
with other evidence.
Suddenly Vicki was overwhelmed with a mixture
of feelings. She was tired, she was frightened, she
was angry. Just what is your game, Mr. Hyatt?
Why did you trick me into coming here? Why did
you have that car trailing me all afternoon? she
demanded.
A car trailing you? Hyatts tone showed sur-
prise. He looked at Carl, who shook his head, in-
dicating he knew nothing about it. Hyatt added, I
only wish we had known you were coming, Miss
Barr. We would have taken steps to avoid this un-
pleasant situation, he said coldly. I wouldnt have
needed a statement from you, if you hadnt followed


170

Priscilla here and eavesdropped on our
conversation.
For once, Vicki was sure that Hyatt was telling
the truth. But who could have been trailing her
except Carl or someone else in Hyatts employ? . . .
Jack! It must have been Jack! But why? . . . Did Jack
know something that he wasnt ready to talk about? .
. . Oh, if only she were right! If only he would get
there!
The thought of Jack coming to help her gave her
new courage and helped to clear her thinking. Her
best bet now, she reasoned quickly, would be to stall
for time. And she must keep Carl and Hyatt from
guessing her thoughts about Jack.
She gave a short, humorless laugh. Ever since
the brass idol was stolen, Ive been imagining
things. Like cars trailing me and people following
me or looking over my shoulder or jumping out at
me from dark doorways. She gave another short,
humorless laugh. But thisthisI do know, she
said firmly. Im not imagining all this.
Desperately she tried to think of some way to keep
stalling for time.
Well, Mr. Hyatt, what do I do now? Vicki tried
to sound casual.
Right now, Miss Barr, you stay here. Hyatts
tone was cold and hard. I would like a signed
statement from you, now that you know about the


171

gold idol. Understand, I want it only to prove
without doubt that I had no part in smuggling in the
gold idol.
Neither did I, Vicki snapped back angrily, so
why should I say I did?
Im not asking you to mention the gold idol as
such. I simply want you to sign a statement that the
idol you brought from India is the one you saw
here.
You already have me saying that in the tape
recording, she said shortly. This was all so be-
wildering. How could he possibly think his crazy
plans would work?
Yes, and that will be sufficient if you arent
around to be questioned further. He paused and
smiled at her. How would you like to go on a long
trip, Miss Barr? All expenses paid.
Vicki didnt answer. The suggestion that she be-
come a party to his crooked scheme filled her with
anger. She lowered her head quickly to keep him
from seeing the look of disgust she was sure was
showing on her face.
You have your choice, Miss Barr. Either you
give me your signed statement or you go on a long
tripa very, very long trip.
There was a veiled threat in Hyatts tone. How
much longer could she go on with this? Hurry!
Hurry up, Jack! the words screamed in her mind.


172

For a minute she was afraid she had screamed them
aloud. It took a tremendous effort for her to control
her feelings. She must not think about anything else.
She must keep Hyatt talking.
How did you get that gold idol, Mr. Hyatt?
You are a very clever girl, Hyatt said softly.
Suppose you tell me?
A lot of things now are beginning to make sense
to me, Vicki said, trying to hide her feeling of re-
lief. She realized that Hyatt was baiting her. He
wanted to find out how much she really had learned
or might have guessed. But that was all right with
her. The longer she talked, the better.
First, Vicki said slowly, Carl must have
phoned you from Kennedy Airport to have you de-
coy Mr. Dillon away from his shop so he wouldnt
be there to receive the brass idol.
Thats right. Hyatt nodded. I knew that
Quimby had closed his business, because he wanted
me to buy it. So I decided to fake a call from him to
Mr. Dillon.
And I suppose that Granville made the call?
Right again. I have him handle many ticklish
problems.
But it wasnt Granville who sneaked into
Karens apartment and stole the brass idol. It was a
Hinduan acrobat, Im sure. I saw him. Vicki
turned and faced Carl Fowler squarely. You, Carl,


173

planned that. It was so nice of you to carry our bags
upstairs. Of course that gave you the chance to look
the place overparticularly the window with the
backyard below and the roof just above.
Remember?
Nice going, Vicki! But how did he get to the
roof?
When you went downstairs, you left the street
door unlatched. Yvonne found it open and latched it.
So the sneak thief had to go through one of the
empty houses to get to the roof. The casement
window was not locked and in he came.
Carl smiled smugly. Good deduction, Miss Barr.
Now tell us why it was necessary to have the brass
idol stolen.
Because you had to get rid of the brass statue so
that I would be fooled into identifying the Golden
Lakshmi as the idol I brought through customs.
Vicki paused, waiting for Carl Fowler or Hyatt to
comment. But both men remained silent. So she
continued:
Ill tell you why I think so. If the gold idol was
ever found in Mr. Hyatts possession, he would say
he knew nothing about it. All he thought he had was
a brass statue which Priscilla had bought for him in
a Westbury store. Vicki turned to Hyatt. Am I
right?
Hyatt didnt answer. He simply gestured for her


174

to continue talking.
To prove this, Mr. Hyatt, you had Quimbys
store reopened and planted the gold idol there. Then
Carl sent Priscilla there to buy it. She thought it was
my brass idol that I had sold. Then she was asked to
sign a statement that she had bought the brass idol at
Quimbys.
Which I did, Priscilla said. But why was I
being shipped off to Rio?
Carl laughed sarcastically. She cant even figure
that out, he said, shaking his head. Because,
Priscilla darling, you are a bird-brain. If you were
ever questioned, youd surely upset the applecart.
Stop, Carl. Thats enough! Mr. Hyatt said
sternly. Let us hear what else Miss Barr has to say.
Proceed, Miss Barr.
You would also claim that you thought the gold
idol was the brass idol which I had brought from
New Delhi and then sold later. You have all the
evidence to prove why you thought it was the brass
idol I brought in. You have all those publicity
photos and the newspaper stories. You have the bill
of sale and the customs declaration which you found
in my brass statue. And you have Carls statement
that he saw me bring the idol through customs.
Carl and Hyatt exchanged quick looks. Priscilla
sat still, listening closely to what Vicki was saying.
But more important than that, Mr. Hyatt


175

Vicki pausedif it was ever discovered that you
had the gold idol, you wanted to make sure Id be
called in for questioning.
Why on earth would he want that to happen?
Priscilla asked.
Because Mr. Hyatt wanted me to identify the
gold statue as the one I had brought ininnocently,
of courseby my secret mark, the bill of sale, and
the customs declaration.
Hyatts face was pale and masklike. He was about
to say something, when Vicki stopped him with a
question:
But how did the gold idol get here? . . . Well,
you couldnt risk bringing it in, Vicki said, or you
would have had somebody try it. Either Priscilla or
Carl, who thinks he can outwit anybody. You
wouldnt take that chance of having the idol
confiscated. Am I right?
Hyatts cold eyes told her nothing. Carls face
was red with anger. Vicki knew she wouldnt get
any leads from them. So she suddenly switched to
Priscilla. Even if Priscilla knew nothing of the
scheme, she had been mixed up in it from the be-
ginning. Her actions might give her some clues as to
how the gold idol was brought in.
Tell me, Priscilla, you werent supposed to go to
Ram Sarrafs until that very morning, were you?
Thats right, Priscilla answered. In his letter,


176

Mr. Hyatt made that very clear
Thats enough! Mr. Hyatt barked. Its time
you were leaving for the airport. And if you had
done your job well, young lady, we wouldnt be
involved in all this.
Priscilla was on the verge of tears. If only I
hadnt lost that card! Oh, I wish Id never heard of
that manthat Naidu Lathi!
Naidu Lathi! Naidu Lathi! Vicki echoed. Bits
of conversations about Naidu Lathi came crowding
into her mind. But of course! He got the idol in!
Vicki exclaimed. He brought it through customs.
He has almost diplomatic immunity because of his
important position in international trade relations.
He knew his luggage would not be given full
inspection.
Vicki was looking at Hyatt as she talked. She saw
his face turn gradually purple as he tried to find
words, but failed.
Recklessly, she plunged on. I see it all now.
Naidu Lathi might have stolen the Golden Lakshmi
of Jaithar and used you, Carl, as a go-between to
arrange its sale to Mr. Hyatt. And thats where that
Hindu acrobat came from. He must have been one of
his servants or bodyguards who came with him to
New York. The words came tumbling out.
Enough! Enough! Hyatt shouted as he leaped
out of his chair, his face twisted with rage.


177

Vicki sat rigid with fear for a moment. Then she
jumped up from her chair and made a desperate
effort to brazen it out. As she backed slowly toward
the main doors of the room, boldly and defiantly she
said, Im leavingand no one is going to stop
me!


178



CHAPTER XVI

The Riddle Solved



Vicki kept walking backward slowly toward the
studys double doors while Hyatt, Carl, and
Granville stood staring at her as if paralyzed. Sud-
denly she whirled and dashed for the doors.
Granville leaped across the room after her. He
almost reached her when Priscilla pounced upon him
with the fury of a wildcat, struggling with him and
clawing at him as he tried to push her away. Vicki
reached the doors and made a quick grab for the
knob. In her frantic hurry, she missed.
By this time, Hyatt had come to life. He leaped
across the room in time to grab Vicki from behind,
and started to pull her back. She gave a furious twist
in his arms and broke away. Suddenly the study
doors came flying inward, and Vicki was squarely in
the path of two men who came hurtling through.
From behind her, Vicki heard Hyatt give a
triumphant shout. She had forgotten about Hyatts
servants.


179

Stop that girl! Dont let her get away! Hyatt
ordered.
But the two men didnt try to stop Vicki. Instead,
they ran in different directions. One man seized
Hyatt. The other overpowered Granville, who was
still trying to free himself from Priscillas furious
attack. Vickis path was clear now except for a third
man. His reddish hair and determined expression
brought a happy cry of recognition from Vickis
lips: Jack!
But Jack had no time to return the greeting. He
half motioned, half brushed Vicki aside as he
launched himself for the one man still on the loose:
Carl Fowler!
Carl had been taken completely off guard by
Hyatts triumphant shout. It wasnt until he saw both
Hyatt and Granville in the grip of two stocky
attackers that he realized these werent servants.
Quickly he snatched up the idol and made a mad
dash toward the curtained doorway.
Jack, already coming at full speed, overtook Carl
with a powerful football tackle. He didnt grab him
by the legs; he tackled him high, around the arms,
because he didnt want him to drop the precious
Lakshmi statue. Carls head thumped against the
wooden frame of the doorway and he sagged to the
floor, dazed and limp, retaining the idol only
because of Jacks clamp upon his arms.


180

When Jack straightened up, he brought the statue
with him, letting Carl lie where he was, and set it on
the table. Then he grabbed hold of Carl and dropped
him into the nearest chair. All the fight had gone out
of Carl. He knew there was no chance of escape
now.
Turning to Vicki, Jack introduced his two stocky
companions as FBI men, special agents Kendall and
Jorgensen.
Vicki acknowledged the introduction, then ex-
claimed, So you were trailing me this afternoon,
Jack! Thats why youre here!
Right, Vicki. I was keeping an eye on you, Jack
replied. He smiled and squeezed her hand. I had a
lead to Hyatt, here. A garageman in Baxter told me
that Hyatt owned a green-and-white ranch wagon.
He hadnt seen it around for a long time. That, plus
the fact that Quimbys shop had reopened . . . well, I
figured something was up. So I thought Id better
keep an eye on you.
Then you must have seen me at Quimbys,
Vicki said. You must have followed me here from
Westbury.
I sure did keep on your trail, Vicki. When I saw
you watching at Quimbys, I knew it had something
to do with Lakshmi. I thought the best thing to do
was to call the FBI for helpon my car telephone
and wait till they got here. Then we would try to


181

time our moves just right. Im sorry that you had to
be put in such a jam. But I knew, Vicki, you would
want the case handled that way to help solve it.
Vicki swallowed hard, but nodded in agreement.
Then I suppose you knew there was a real Golden
Lakshmi of Jaithar?
Yes, for some time, Jack said. In New Delhi, I
checked and learned that there actually was a
Golden Lakshmi of Jaithar, as Ram Sarraf said,
owned by a maharajah.
How did the FBI come in on the case? Vicki
wanted to know.
Well, it was this way. With all those strange ex-
periences you had with the brass idolespecially
when it disappearedand with what I had found out
in New Delhi, I reported to the FBI. A quiet
investigation was made and it was found that the
Golden Lakshmi was missinghad been stolen.
The FBI also got a lead on Naidu Lathi. Do you
know what one of his jobs was? To appraise such
treasures and arrange for the national government to
take them over. Anyway, the FBI asked me to work
with them and I was not to discuss the
investigationnot even with you. You understand,
dont you, Vicki, why I couldnt tell you every-
thing?
Vicki nodded that she understood. Did you
know that the real idol was here?


182

No, we didnt know, but we suspected it was.
Thanks to you, Vicki, now were surewe have the
proof!
Carl Fowler shifted uneasily in his chair, and
looking at Hyatt, muttered, The jokes on us, Hyatt!
All along I thought I had Jack Smith completely
fooled. Never, for one moment, did it occur to me
that he suspected you and me!
Shut up, Fowler! You talk too much! Hyatt
growled. No one can prove anything against me!
he protested indignantly.
Weve been in this house longer than you think,
Mr. Hyatt, Kendall said quietly. The local police
helped us to detain your servants in one of the
rooms.
And then we listened in, Jorgensen added,
gesturing to the main doors of the study. He gave
Vicki an approving smile. You did a good job,
Miss Barrmaking those charges against them.
You bet. You really nailed it down, Vicki, Jack
said admiringly. He walked over to the Lakshmi
statue and lifted it. Looking Hyatt in the eye, he
said, What we want to know now is if the jewels
are genuine. Are they?
Why-why Hyatt stammered hesitatingly. He
paused for a moment, then said, I suppose that if I
cooperate, it will go better for me later. He studied
the FBI men. They looked at him and said nothing.


183

Then Hyatt shrugged his shoulders resignedly and
said, Very well. Ill tell you. Through Carl Fowler,
I learned that Naidu Lathi had the idol for sale and I
arranged to buy it. I deposited funds in India, to be
transferred to persons named by Naidu Lathi. Carl
Fowler came here tonight to get my signed
authorization, once I made sure that the idol was
genuine.
And are you sure of that now? asked Jack.
Quite sure, Hyatt said. It is the gold idol. I
shall demonstrate.
Hyatt stepped to a table and opened a drawer.
Kendall moved quickly beside him to make sure he
didnt bring out a gun. All that Hyatt brought out
was a small bottle. Kendall remained alert, ready to
pluck it from him.
Noting that, Hyatt shook his head. It isnt
poison, he said. That is, it might be, but I dont
intend to drink it. Then, pointing to the idol, he
went on, This idol has been specially treated. It is
covered with a special coating, like a solid shell, so
smooth that it can pass even close inspection. The
gems, too, are covered by a film to dull them. Only
this special emulsion can remove those coatings.
As he spoke, he uncapped the bottle and poured a
liquid on to a cloth. He rubbed the surface of the
idol and glistening, brassy lacquer dissolved. In its
place, a ruddier hue appearedthat of burnished


184

gold. Then, as Hyatt soaked the cloth again and
rubbed it over some of the beads, they took on a
vivid sparkle. Instantly they scintillated as the real
gems they were: red rubies, green emeralds, blue
sapphires, and brilliant diamonds that sparkled with
myriad hues.
Before Hyatt was even halfway through, Jor-
gensen stepped forward and stopped him. That is
enough, the FBI man said. Leave the rest of the
statue as it is. It will be needed for evidence.
Now you three had better come along with us,
Kendall added, gesturing toward Hyatt, Carl, and
Priscilla. Well need full statements from you.
Turning to Granville, he said, Well expect you to
be on calland that goes for all of Mr. Hyatts
servants, including the chauffeur.
Jorgensen was already gathering up all of the
evidencethe photographs, the signed statements,
the bill of sale, the customs declaration, the tape
recording of Vickis statements, and the films of her
that Granville had taken.
Take good care of Miss Barr, Investigator
Smith, Kendall called after Jack as he started to
lead Vicki toward the door. See that she gets a
good rest. Shes really earned it! He gave Vicki a
warm smile.
Right you are, Agent Kendall, Jack said,
saluting him smartly.


185

And a good job well done, Miss Barr, added
Agent Jorgensen with a broad grin.

Vicki and Jack were at Mr. Dillons curio shop
the next afternoon when Kendall dropped in. He told
them that they had complete statements from
Priscilla Bates, Fowler, and Hyatt, and that proper
action would be taken against both of the men and
Naidu Lathi, the man actually responsible for the
theft of the gold idol.
And by the way, added Kendall, Fowler
turned this over to me. He had it in his hotel room.
From a package that he carried, Kendall produced
the brass idol that bore Vickis markthe V she had
madeand handed it to her with a bow.
This, I believe, is your property, Miss Barr.
Vicki accepted the idol just long enough to make
sure from its weight that it was brass, not gold. Then
she thrust it into Jacks arms.
And there, Mr. Smith, Vicki declared, is the
East Indian idol that I promised you. Remember?
Jack Smith grinned and nodded, and the Lakshmi
statue, wearing its half-fixed smile, seemed to beam
its approval of this happy climax to the series of
adventures that had brought it halfway around the
world.