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Mr. Judson, telling him that you have turned the matter over to me. If he still wishes to bring suit against you, I’ll agree to accept the case.”
“But I understand through a friend who spoke to the superintendent that Mr. Judson has left Oakwood Avenue and did not say where he was going,” Koff objected.
“You might try General Delivery at the post office,” Nancy suggested.
“I will do that,” the Centrovian agreed.
Mr. Drew asked, “Did you get your briefcase back?”
“No. Mr. Buzby wrote that he knew nothing about mine. It contained both my name and address but has not been returned.” Koff’s face grew grim. “There are many valuable things in it and I am concerned that the information may fall into the wrong hands.”
“The wrong hands?” Nancy repeated.
“In my briefcase,” he explained, “were a number of letters from the Centrovian underground in various countries. Through them, the occupying authorities might trace the loyal people who are working for us. I am sick with worry.”
Nancy felt sorry for Koff. “I hope everything will soon be straightened out,” she said, “and that your daughter can return to the charity show. I understand she’s a wonderful dancer.”
“Yes,” Koff agreed, relaxing a moment. Then his voice rose excitedly. “Before the occupation there were many wonderful dancers in Centrovia. But no more. No, no more. The hearts of our people are crushed. They do not have the time or the spirit for singing and dancing.”
“Did you know many of the famous Centrovian dancers?” Nancy asked.
“Indeed I did,” Koff replied. “Most were killed, but a few fled the country at the time I did. I remember one family in particular, the Provaks, who went to Paris. The mother, an exquisite beauty, died there, and her husband did too. I learned from the underground that the children might be in grave danger.”
“What are their names?”
“They’re known as Helene and Henri Fontaine.”
Nancy heard his words with mixed feelings. Her old suspicion that Koff might be playing a double role flashed across her mind.
The young sleuth glanced at her father’s puzzled face. Evidently he, too, was trying to decide whether they ought to call in the Fontaines.
Catching Nancy’s eye, Carson Drew shook his head slowly as if to say, “Give nothing away!”
But the decision not to reveal the whereabouts of their guests was suddenly taken from them. Helene and Henri Fontaine hurried into the room I
CHAPTER VII
Masked Intruders
FOR the next few minutes there was near pandemonium in Mr. Drew’s study. Mr. Koff and the Fontaines were speaking Centrovian at the tops of their voices, their eyes flashing and hands waving.
As Nancy and her father stood by helplessly, Ned Nickerson, Hannah, and George rushed in. “I knew there’d be trouble! I just knew it!” Hannah cried.
By the sound of the Centrovians’ excited voices, the onlookers fully expected Koff and Henri to come to blows. To their amazement, nothing of the sort happened. But when Mr. Drew caught the word Judson, he stepped forward and took Henri by the shoulder.
“Please speak English,” he said.
The young man looked embarrassed. He bowed slightly and said, “I beg your pardon, sir. We Centrovians are excitable people. We were saying nothing you should not hear.”
The interruption quieted the three Centrovians. Helene and Mr. Koff also apologized, explaining that they were talking about conditions in Centrovia. Henri had also mentioned Nancy’s suspicions about the Judsons.
Helene and Henri, who had overheard part of their countryman’s conversation with the Drews, had not been able to remain in hiding when they heard Mr. Koff mention their names.
Nancy addressed herself to the Fontaines. She asked them frankly, “Do you want to tell Mr. Koff your whole story?”
“Oh, yes,” Henri replied.
From an inside pocket of his jacket he pulled out the warning note that had been left at the dancing school
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley