A Sinister Symbol

Nancy turned, wondering who or what had caused Scaglia to react so strangely. She saw that a man had just entered the greenroom. Nancy recognized him at once.

He was the mustached, courtly-looking gentleman whom she had seen leaving Brett Hulme’s workshop on Monday afternoon!

The recognition was mutual. “Well, well, well! What a pleasure! ” the newcomer exclaimed. “We meet again, young lady! ”

Nancy smiled back. “So we do! ”

Today he was sportily dressed in a casual white Italian suit and open-necked silk sport shirt. But his moustache was as glossily waxed and twirled as before, and he was brandishing a bamboo cane in the same jaunty way that a British military officer carries his swagger stick. Though slender and youthful in bearing, the man appeared to be in his late fifties.

Scaglia looked perplexed. “You two know each other? ”

“Only by sight, ” said Nancy, her blue eyes sparkling merrily. “We’ve never been formally introduced.”

“Then kindly allow me to do so! ” By now, Renzo Scaglia had regained his poise, his white teeth flashing in a brilliant smile. “This gentleman, my dear, is Mr. Eugene Horvath---whose late wife, Madame Arachne Onides, we were just discussing. And this attractive young lady, Gene, is the famous girl detective, Miss Nancy Drew! ”

“How very unusual! ” he exclaimed, starring at her more admiringly than ever. “I must confess, Miss Drew, I have never met either a police detective or a private eye before. But seeing one as lovely as you makes me feel I’ve been missing something all these years! ”

Nancy found his flattery pleasant, but too obvious to raise a blush. “I doubt if I qualify as a private eye, ” she chuckled. “I’m strictly an amateur at detecting.”

“My dear Miss Drew, you’re entirely too modest! ” Horvath protested. “I’ve read about the mysteries you’ve solved---at least the more sensational ones that have been reported in the papers. Keep on as you’re going, and you may well end up on a par with Sherlock Holmes! ”

Seeing the twinkle I his eyes, the young sleuth burst out laughing. But Scaglia said drily:

“Watch out, Nancy, or you’re more likely to end up as the latest celebrity in Gene’s menagerie! I should have warned you: he makes a hobby of ‘collecting’ famous people.”

With a tinge of malice, the tenor added, “In fact I sometimes think that’s how he came to marry Arachne.”

If Horvath was offended by his remark, he gave no sign. Instead he inquired good-naturedly, “Are you here in Oceanview for festival week, Miss Drew?... or may I call you Nancy? ”

“Please do, ” the teenager replied gracefully. “No, I’ll be going home tomorrow. But I do hope to come back later and see more of the festival events---besides tonight’s opera, I mean.”

“If you two will excuse me, ” Renzo Scaglia cut in coldly, “I really must be getting back to my dressing room, to begin warming up for this evening’s performance.”

With a stiff little bow, he turned and strode out of the greenroom. Nancy knew that he was irritated by Eugene Horvath’s arrival. But she could not tell if this was merely due to a star’s egotistical annoyance at no longer being the center of attention, or what seemed more likely, whether he actively, and perhaps jealously, disliked Horvath…

“A very great tenor! ” the latter remarked after he had gone. “One of the greatest since Enrico Caruso - perhaps the greatest. My adored Arachne was very fond of him. And he of her.”

With a wry smile, Horvath went on, “Indeed, I sometimes wonder if Renzo has ever forgiven me for marrying her. But enough of all that! Let us go outside, my dear, and see what is happening on stage.”

From the way he walked freely about the amphitheater and exchanged joking remarks with people they passed, Horvath seemed to be a well-known festival personage. Nancy assumed this was because he was the widower of Madame Arachne.

The hum of activity had increased. Stagehands were busy adjusting lights and scenery inside the festival shell. Onstage, a television reporter was now interviewing one of the festival officials.

“Did you come to Oceanview alone, Nancy? ” Horvath inquired.

“No, with some friends, ” she replied. “We belong to a little theater group from River Heights called the Footlighters. They’re to do a play here on Tuesday.”

“Ah! Then you’re also a budding actress? ”

“Only an understudy, ” Nancy twinkled.

“In that case, tell your director he’s overlooking a great possibility! ”

“It’s kind of you to say so, but I prefer detecting.” Changing the subject, Nancy said hesitantly, “Mr. Horvath, I know you lost your wife. Do you mind talking about her? ”

“Of course not, my dear. There’s no one I’d rather talk about than Arachne. What would you like to know? ”

“How did the two of you happen to meet and marry? ”

Horvath explained that he had long been an admirer of the famous diva and had been thrilled to meet her at a dinner party in New York. Having been told by their hostess that he was a retired, wealthy businessman, Arachne asked his advice about certain investments.

Later, Horvath related, he became her business manager and eventually, as their relationship grew closer, she accepted his proposal of marriage.

“We had only a year of happiness together before her tragic plane accident”---Horvath sighed deeply---“but I am the luckiest man in the world to have had such a wife as Arachne for even that long. I shall cherish her memory always! ”

His fond recollection and description of Madame Arachne, thought Nancy, certainly differed from Renzo Scaglia’s!

As they went on chatting, she asked if he remembered Maggie Farr.

“Arachne’s former dresser? Of course! ” Horvath responded. “Do you know her? ”

“We met recently. I’m sorry to say she’s now in the hospital, suffering from a stroke.” Nancy explained that Mrs. Farr had lost her power of speech, but had tried to communicate something about a spider, which in turn seemed to relate in some way to her former mistress, Madame Arachne. “Do you have any idea what she might be talking about? ”

“Not the slightest.” Horvath looked surprised and puzzled. “It sounds rather weird. Are you sure her mind hasn’t been affected? ”

I don’t think so. At least her doctor hasn’t suggested any such thing.” Privately Nancy was taken aback by his suggestion. Was it possible that Maggie might be hallucinating, or having delusions which caused her to lose touch with reality?

But no! Nancy rejected the notion at once. The very coincidences relating Maggie’s cryptic message to Kim Vernon, a spiderlike object, and Madame Arachne---coincidences which at first had seemed too great to accept---were also too great to be brushed aside as mere whimsical ravings.

However, the mention of the spider had reminded Nancy of someone else. “By the way, do you know if your wife was acquainted with Brett Hulme? ” she asked casually.

“Oh yes, indeed, ” Horvath nodded. “One might almost say Brett was a proté gé of hers. Arachne helped launch his career, you see. When he first opened his design studio, she introduced him to many celebrities who later wore his creations and thus made his work famous. And she also used her influence to get his designs exhibited in museums and galleries.”

Nancy’s conversation with the late opera star’s husband was interrupted as she caught sight of Bess and George. They had just come up from the complex of rooms and passageways below stage.

When her two friends waved to Nancy, she beckoned them over and introduced them to Eugene Horvath. Bess dimpled excitedly as he took their hands in turn and gave each a little bow. She was obviously bowled over by his elegant style of dress and urbane, courtly manner.

“You must all come out to my island estate sometime during the festival, ” remarked Horvath, beaming at the three pretty girls.

“My very own, not too far offshore. My chauffeur will come and pick you up and drive you to the boat landing, then bring you out to the island in my motor cruiser.”

“Isn’t he charming! ” gushed Bess after they had parted from Horvath and he had gone over to speak to the conductor of the orchestra.

“Cool it, ” teased George. “He hasn’t proposed yet---remember, he’s still in mourning for Madame Arachne! ”

That night, the girls thoroughly enjoyed The Barber of Seville as performed by the festival opera company, and next morning they went swimming off Oceanview’s splendid white sandy beach.

Much to her friends’ regret, however, Nancy insisted on driving back to River Heights on Sunday afternoon. She was keenly determined to pursue her investigation of the mystery.

As soon as she got home, Nancy telephoned Buzz Hammond, the golf pro at the River Heights Country Club, to ask him for the address and phone number of the riverside cottage where Kim Vernon was staying. In light of her emotional outburst when questioned about Madame Arachne or a spider, Nancy hoped the golf star might now be willing to talk more freely.

Kim agreed to see Nancy early Monday afternoon. The two girls sat in chintz-covered, deep-cushioned chairs in the cheerful living room of the cottage.

Kim’s manner was calm and pleasant. However, she seemed no more inclined that she had before to discuss the reasons for her withdrawal from the Charleston Cup match. “Let’s just say I felt I needed a rest from competition, ” she told Nancy.

“May I ask a more personal question? ”

Kim chuckled. “No harm in asking. That’s not saying I’ll answer it.”

“Why did you pick River Heights as a place to stay? ” said Nancy.

Kim shrugged. “As I told you, I’ve always liked this town. It’s near my brother in Bradley. And of course being offered the use of this cottage also had a lot to do with it.”

“Did the fact that Brett Hulme lives near here also have anything to do with it? ”

The black-haired golf star seemed to wince slightly, and blushed. “I… I certainly wouldn’t object to seeing him again… if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Nancy thought this a rather unusual way of answering her question---and perhaps more revealing than Kim had intended. The teenage sleuth had the same feeling she had sensed in talking to Brett: that very likely Kim, too, now regretted the breakup of their romance, just as he did.

“Do you and Brett have any plans to see each other? ” Nancy probed.

Kim Vernon shook her head and smiled - a bit wistfully, Nancy thought. “No, I just want to keep my hand in at golf, but otherwise relax. Maybe find time for a bit of swimming, boating, tennis…”

As the doorbell rang, she broke off to glance out the window, then rose from her chair. “In fact, I ordered a racket Saturday afternoon. That’s probably the delivery man from the store! ”

Kim answered the bell, accepted something from the man who rang, then closed the door and eagerly began to unwrap the package. From its shape, it appeared to be the tennis racket she was expecting.

But a moment later, Kim gasped in horror and flung the racket aside! Covering her face with her hands, she sank into a chair and burst into shuddering sobs.

Nancy picked up the racket, her own eyes widening as she did so.

Instead of normal racket webbing, it was strung with glistening threads that formed a cobweb design!