“Lola and I took a little trip to London to pawn it,” she said. “I told her she’d better not use her right name, because the police sometimes get after these pawnshop dealers and she might get in trouble.”
“So she used the name of Laura Flynn, didn’t she?” Nancy asked.
Mrs. Ayres almost toppled from her chair in surprise. Nancy told her not to be worried—that she had received that very bracelet as a gift and had been trying ever since to find out who the original owner was.
“How long has Mrs. Flanders been an amnesia victim?” she asked.
Mrs. Ayres replied that it was ever since Lola had come to live with her. She was not a victim of complete amnesia—it was more a case of forgetfulness and absent-mindedness than not knowing who she was.
“Every so often she seems to remember things very well,” said Mrs. Ayres. “But then her memory fades and for a long period she’ll be almost like a child.” Mrs. Ayres leaned toward Nancy. “It’s almost as though she were afraid the walls would pick up her words. To tell you the truth, Miss Drew, I think maybe the medicine Lola gets has something to do with it.”
“She’s under a doctor’s care?” Nancy questioned.
Mrs. Ayres nodded and said that the physician was not a local man. He came out a couple of times a year from London to see the ex-circus performer. He left a large supply of some white powder which Lola was to take every third day.
Nancy said the woman was no doubt right in her supposition about the medicine.
“It’s all right for me to see Mrs. Flanders, isn’t it?”
Once more, Mrs. Ayres seemed undecided as to what she should do. But finally she made up her mind.
“I’m ready to wash my hands of the whole thing. I find it hard enough keeping Lola Flanders here on the small amount of money Mr. Jones gives me. Come on, I’ll take you to her.”
Nancy’s pulse quickened as she followed the woman up a narrow, winding stairway. Mrs. Ayres opened one of the bedroom doors and called out:
“Lola, you have a visitor from the United States.”
As Nancy walked in, she saw a sweet gray-haired woman seated in an old-fashioned rocker. At once there was no doubt in Nancy’s mind that she was looking at Lolita Flanders’ mother!
“How do you do, Mrs. Flanders,” she said, going forward and shaking hands with the woman. “I’ve come a long way to see you. How are you feeling?”
“It is very nice to meet you, my dear,” Mrs. Flanders said. “I never have any visitors.”
Nancy told her that one of her former friends lived not far away. He had seen her at a circus not long before and had tried to speak to her. “But you left rather quickly,” said Nancy.
Mrs. Flanders turned searching eyes on Mrs. Ayres. Apparently she did not remember the incident.
“Oh, yes, we went to the circus when it came here,” said Mrs. Ayres. “Who is this person you speak of?”
“His name is Pietro,” said Nancy, watching Lolita’s mother closely.
Mrs. Flanders jumped from her chair. For a few seconds the cloudiness in her eyes seemed to disappear completely.
“Pietro!” she cried excitedly. “How well I remember him! One of the best clowns the circus ever had.”
Nancy was thrilled to hear Mrs. Flanders reminisce. But suddenly the woman’s face seemed to cloud over.
“What was it you were asking me, my dear?” she said sweetly.
Mrs. Ayres shrugged as if to say, “You see how it is?”
But Nancy was not discouraged. She felt sure that with the right kind of care Lola Flanders’ memory might be restored completely.
“I haven’t told you,” said Nancy, “but I’m a friend of your daughter Lolita.”
“Lolita?” Mrs. Flanders frowned, as if she were trying very hard to recall the name.
“Lolita is with Sims’ Circus now,” Nancy went on. “She’s one of the most brilliant aerialists in the United States.”
“Little Lolita,” Mrs. Flanders said, hardly audibly. “My little Lolita. She died when she was very young.”
Nancy was shocked. Apparently Mrs. Flanders had been told that her child was no longer living. Another one of Kroon’s tricks!