Smoke Screen

“WHEN is the quiz? ” Nancy asked Dr. Anderson.

“This afternoon at three, ” the professor replied.

Nancy looked at her watch. It was ten-thirty. She had a few hours to study!

Eager to use her time to advantage, Nancy hurried to the college library. There the librarian pointed out the books used for Dr. Anderson’s course in American Indian Culture.

“And this should help you, ” the woman said, giving Nancy a typewritten sheet. “It’s an outline of the work covered each month.”

The syllabus stated that the subjects assigned for the past month were The Aztecs of Mexico and Early Indian Tribes in Florida.

Fortunately, Nancy had brought a notebook and her fountain pen. She read all the chapters on Florida Indians, and made notes on the facts which seemed most important about the ancient Aztecs.

She hardly took time for lunch, studying her notes while she ate a sandwich in the cafeteria. After lunch she returned to the library and did more reading until it was time to go to class.

As the students flocked in to take their seats, Dr. Anderson arose from behind his desk.

“Please remember that none of you will be given special consideration, ” he said, looking straight at Nancy. “If you know the subject, you will pass. If you do not know the answers, you will fail.”

He gave out the quiz sheets and the blue notebooks in which the students were to write their answers. Nancy’s hours in the library, she discovered, had been well spent. She was able to answer all the questions except the last: Who were the Zapotecs? Where and when did they live?

She did not remember having read anything about the Zapotecs. Terry Scott had never mentioned them.

She had to leave the question blank!

At the end of the period, Professor Anderson asked the students to put their quiz books on his desk. When Nancy left hers, she hoped he would speak to her. But his only response to her smile was a stern nod.

“He’ll be a hard marker, ” Nancy thought woefully.

“How did you make out? ” a friendly girl asked.

Nancy sighed. “I couldn’t answer the question about the Zapotecs.”

“Anderson’s a mean old crow for asking that one. It wasn’t in the lectures—he just said we could look it up.”

“Pretty shrewd, ” Nancy commented, then introduced herself.

The girl said that she was Frances Oakes, and she introduced her two friends as Marilyn Maury and Grace James.

“Are you coming to Florida with us? ” Grace asked hopefully.

Nancy said that she planned to go if she passed the test.

“That’s the big ‘if’ for all of us, ” Marilyn said with a sigh.

“I’ll never stand the strain of waiting until tomorrow! ” Fran groaned. “That’s when the quiz grades will be posted.”

“What time? ” Nancy asked.

“Dr. Anderson said they’d be posted by five o’clock, ” Fran answered. “I’ll call you as soon as I know them myself.”

That night was a restless one for Nancy. Next morning, she decided to look up the answer to the question she had missed. From the encyclopedia she learned that the Zapotecs were an important tribe of Mexican Indians. They had resisted invasions by the Aztecs and their culture had been one of the highest in that country.

After reading the article, Nancy’s hopes sank. “That does it, ” she thought. Her ignorance would seem inexcusable to Dr. Anderson. She would flunk the quiz.

“And Dad will never let me go to Florida alone.” She sighed.

At lunch Carson Drew noticed that Nancy was not eating with her usual appetite. “Is that quiz on your mind? ” he asked kindly.

Nancy admitted that it was. Then she changed the subject and tried to act cheerful. But after her father had left for his office, she looked at her watch anxiously. How could she spend those four long hours, waiting for Fran to call?

Nancy had just settled down to a new novel when, shortly after one-thirty, the River Heights fire siren blasted. Mrs. Gruen came hurrying from the kitchen.

“It’s our district, ” the housekeeper announced. “That fire must be right in this neighborhood.”

She and Nancy rushed out to the front porch. Black smoke was pouring from the Hackley house, two doors up the street.

Nancy and Hannah raced across the lawns, reaching the scene just before the fire engines. From somewhere in the rear of the house, Nancy heard a woman screaming. Leaving Mrs. Gruen, she ran to the back door. Mrs. Hackley came staggering out, carrying her year-old baby. The woman and her infant were crying hysterically.

“Let me help you, ” Nancy offered and did her best to calm them.

“Let me help you, ” Nancy offered

Meanwhile, the firemen had gone inside the house. Presently one of them ran out of the cellar carrying a bucket full of black, smoldering rags.

The fireman approached Mrs. Hackley. “Here’s your trouble, ” he said. “Know anything about this? ”

Mrs. Hackley stared. “N-no. Where did you find that? ”

“These rags were stuffed into a duct from your furnace. They’ve got oil on them and some sort of chemical. That’s what made the terrible smoke in your house.”

“Mercy! ” cried Mrs. Hackley. “Whoever would do a crazy thing like that? ”

Nancy shuddered. The Drews’ front door had been left open. The firebug might have gone into their house!

Not seeing Hannah, Nancy hurried home alone. Quickly she went to the kitchen and opened the cellar door. There was no sign of smoke. She was breathing a sigh of relief when she heard a stifled cough.

Nancy’s heart pounded. Was the man who had started the fire at the Hackleys’ starting a fire here?

Then another thought came to her. Had he set the Hackley fire to lure her and Hannah away so he would have time to look for something—and steal it?

Nancy thought with regret of the plainclothesman who had been on guard during the day. If only he had not been dismissed!

She tiptoed through the kitchen, and cautiously crept across the lower hall and up the carpeted stairway. As she reached the upper hall, Nancy saw a man emerge from her bedroom.

The intruder turned, saw her, and stiffened. Juarez Tino! He was clenching something black in his hand.

Terry Scott’s half-key!