(#30) The Clue of the Velvet Mask by Carolyn Keene

and she recognized some as having been rented from Lightner’s. Masks were of every form and shape. Nancy could not identify anyone.
    After the dancing had started in the ballroom below, Mr. Lightner came upstairs. He informed Nancy that no guest had appeared without a properly marked admission card.
    Relieved that no suspicious person had been observed, Nancy relaxed a little. Hilda stretched out comfortably on a lounge.
    “We’ll have a few hours now with nothing to do,” she advised Nancy. “Take it easy before the rush starts.”
    Nancy preferred remaining alert and was standing near the door when a tall man in a striking costume came up and presented a check.
    “Madam needs her coat,” he said in low tones. “A long dark-green one. Hurry, please.”
    Nancy glanced intently at the stranger. She could not see his face plainly, for a white silk scarf that matched his Moorish costume served to mask the lower portion. His intense black eyes disturbed her, however.
    She knew the coat he meant without comparing the numbered tickets, for there was no other like it. Deliberately she took her time, pretending she could not find the garment.
    “Hurry!” the man urged again, speaking with a slight British accent.
    More suspicious than ever that he was the thief she had previously encountered, Nancy purposely turned her back and maneuvered to run her hand into the inner pocket of the coat. Instantly her fingers encountered something made of cloth and very soft.
    She quickly took out the object. It was one of the masks used by the daring members of the Velvet Gang! After tucking the velvet hood back in the pocket, she took the coat from the hanger and handed it to the man. With a suggestion of a French accent, she inquired:
    “Madame is ill? She is leaving the party so soon? Perhaps I can help her?”
    “No thanks,” he replied, still keeping his face muffled in the white scarf. “I’ll attend to her.”
    As soon as he was gone, Nancy told the dumbfounded Hilda, “You’re in charge here alone now.”
    Unmindful of the maid’s protests, Nancy hurried down the hall in pursuit of the man carrying the green coat. Passing the room where Ned was stationed, she gave him a prearranged signal. Immediately he joined her at the stairway.
    “What’s up?” he asked quickly.
    “Keep an eye on that man in the Moor’s costume,” Nancy whispered. “No matter what happens, don’t let him escape you.”
    From the staircase, the couple saw him move directly to a bent, white-haired old lady with glasses, who was waiting in the hallway below. She was not costumed.
    Nancy and Ned watched intently as the man solicitously helped the woman put on her coat. Then they parted, the man turning toward the dance floor, and his companion moving slowly toward the entrance at the side of the house.
    “Follow him, Ned!” Nancy whispered excitedly. “I’ll watch her.”
    Ned started off in pursuit. The man dodged in and out among the dancers, and finally headed toward the kitchen. He pushed open the swinging door and darted inside.
    Determined not to lose track of the man, Ned also slipped through the door. He found himself in a large pantry and caught sight of his quarry disappearing through a door that apparently led to the basement.
    Heedless of possible danger, Ned hurried across the kitchen. Reaching the entrance to the cellar, he opened the door and peered down the steps, at the same time flicking the basement light switch. The cellar remained dark. The man must have removed the bulb, Ned thought, in order to hamper pursuit and allow time to escape through the basement exit.
    Lighting a match, Ned cautiously descended the stairs, looking for the fugitive. He was not in sight.
    By the time Ned reached the bottom step, the match was burning his fingers and he dropped it. As he started to light another, Ned felt a thud, then a searing pain in his temple. The blow sent him sprawling on the cement floor, his head throbbing. He had been