"Would you give us some personal information about your sister?" Lieutenant Masters asked kindly. "Was she younger than you?"
"No. Julie was seven years older. Our parents died when we were children, and we lived with an aunt who was pretty strict. I never minded Aunt Mattie's scolding, but Julie, who was high strung, resented it. She took dancing lessons secretly, and when Aunt Mattie found out and punished her for it, Julie ran away.
"For several years Julie danced wherever she could get an engagement and studied during her spare moments."
The policewoman asked, "Did you see Juliana often after she became famous?"
"Only now and then. But she called me every week. I was so excited when she became engaged to Walter Heath. It was to be kept from the press, so of course I told no one."
"Could anything have happened between Juliana and Mr. Heath to make her unhappy enough to disappear?" Nancy asked.
Mrs. Fenimore shook her head. "Julie was beautiful and talented. He was handsome, wealthy, and kind. They adored each other. I'm sure he had nothing to do with her disappearance."
Mention of the deceased estate owner reminded Nancy of the real purpose of her call. She asked Mrs. Fenimore about the strange identification clause in the will.
"I wondered myself what that meant when I read it," the woman replied.
"Do you think Daniel Hector might have an answer?" Nancy asked.
Mrs. Fenimore's face darkened. "Please don't mention that man's name! I detest him. All these years he's only been pretending to search for Julie."
"Pretending?"
"Once in a while he would call to tell me about his attempts to find her but they sounded half- hearted. Now he doesn't even phone. I'm sure he's stopped trying. I'm counting on you Nancy, to solve the mystery."
Nancy promised to do everything she could to trace the missing dancer. Secretly she wondered if she could find the woman in time to save the inheritance for her.
"May I see a photograph of your sister?" she requested.
"I have a number of excellent ones," Mrs. Fenimore replied. "I'll give you one. They're in the drawer of this table."
She took them out. There were six, taken years before when the dancer was at the height of her career. Several were inscribed with her name and a greeting. The face was a distinctive one. Carefully Nancy noted the perfect features, the beautiful dark eyes, the straight nose and firm chin.
"Julie may have changed a great deal since I last saw her," Mrs. Fenimore remarked. "Ten years have gone by."
"Your sister is lovely," Nancy commented. "Joan looks a little like her."
"Yes, she does. And certainly my daughter has Julie's vivacious ways. She's quite a little actress. Maybe someday-"
Mrs. Fenimore looked sadly into space. Lieutenant Masters, fearing the conversation had upset the woman, said they must leave.
"Please try not to worry," Nancy urged Mrs. Fenimore who handed her a photograph as they said good-bye.
When she and the officer reached their cars, Nancy thanked Lieutenant Masters for her help.
"Call on me any time," the young woman said as she drove off.
Nancy decided to take a walk and think about the case.
As she wandered up the street, children were coming home from school to lunch. She saw Joan playing with an older boy in a vacant lot. They were tossing a ball for a dog to retrieve.
"That boy looks familiar," Nancy thought as she walked over to the children. Suddenly, in a fit of temper, the boy hit the dog with a stick.
"Cut it out!" he shouted. "You're chewing my ball to pieces!"
Joan screamed.
"Stop that!" Nancy ordered. "The dog hasn't hurt your ball. He was only playing."
The boy gazed at her with hard, unfriendly eyes. "Is he your dog?" he asked impudently.
"No."
"Then it's none of your business if I hit him."
Nancy started to reply, but it was not necessary. The dog dropped the ball and slunk off. The boy picked it up. Then, giving Nancy a baleful look, he ran away.
Nancy took Joan by the hand and led her off. As tactfully as possible she suggested that the child ought to find a girl playmate.
"Teddy Hooper's okay. He's the only one that lives close to me," Joan replied, skipping happily along beside her companion. "I don't like him when he's mean, but most of the time he's a lot of fun. He always thinks up exciting things to do."
"You'd better hurry home to lunch," Nancy said. "I'll go with you. My car's there."
When they reached the house, Joan hugged Nancy, then ran inside. Nancy was sure she had made a firm friend of the little girl.
"I'm not far from Salty's," the young detective said to herself. "I'll drive there and find out if he has seen that man who crashed into our boat."
In a little while she came to the clam digger's home. The sailor was on the shore repairing his rowboat.
"Well, now, me lass, I'm glad to see you," he said. "But I'm afraid I haven't got good news."
"You mean about the boat?"
"I've looked high an' low for that damaged boat," the man said regretfully. "It's not tied up anywhere along here."
"How about Harper's Inlet?" Nancy asked.
Salty admitted he had not been there. "Too busy," he explained. "Maybe I'll go this afternoon. I need a mess o' clams an' there be some up the inlet. You want to come along? I'll show you the Heath factory."
For Nancy the opportunity was too good to pass up. She was eager to visit the spot.
"Just tell me when to be here," she said.
After settling on three o'clock, she remarked, "I'll bring along one of my friends."
Nancy hurried home for a quick lunch, then telephoned George. Promptly at three o'clock the two girls met Salty at the waterfront.
"I'll put ye to work," the sailor chuckled as he gathered together his fishing and clamming equipment. "Help me load these into the rowboat, will you?"
The old man's muscular arms rippled as he dug the oars into the tranquil waters of the Muskoka River. Presently he and his passengers were skimming along at a rapid rate. Behind the craft trailed a long copper wire which gleamed in the sunlight.
"I'm trollin' for my dinner tonight," Salty explained. "There's somethin' yankin' on my line right now, I do believe!"
He rested the oars and pulled in the line. Finally a four-pound speckled bass flopped into the boat.
"She's a beauty," he said, grinning.
While the girls kept the craft from drifting downstream. Salty removed the hook from the fish and dropped his catch into a woven basket. Then he wound up the copper troll line and put it away.
"Fishin's not much good in the inlet," he remarked. "But we'll find clams."
The upper river was very still. As the boat entered Harper's Inlet some time later, there was no sound except the occasional chirping of a bird. Nancy hunched low now and then, to avoid the overhanging bushes and watched the coves for a hidden boat. There was none.