Read The Clue in the Old Stagecoach Online
Authors: Carolyn G. Keene
The Clue in the Old Stagecoach (13 page)
“No,” said Nancy. “They were to hide nearby. It’s my guess that since they can see we’re all right, they won’t bother to let us know where they are. I think they’ll stay here a long time in case the Monteiths show up. It’s possible Ross and Audrey won’t come until after we girls have left.”
The three friends began to discuss the explosion. It had been very similar to the previous one and there was no doubt in their minds but that the same people had perpetrated both of them.
“Do you think the Monteiths knew it was going to happen?” Bess asked. “And they’re mean enough to have sent us here, hoping we’d be injured?”
“I certainly wouldn’t put it past them,” George answered.
Even Nancy felt that this guess on Bess’s part might well be true. Then she tried to shake off the thought. “Perhaps the Monteiths didn’t keep the date because they were tipped off about the police. We’ll wait a little longer.”
But though the girls waited until twelve thirty, Ross and Audrey did not drive up. Even then Nancy said that she might hear from them again by telephone. George, however, was skeptical that this would ever happen.
The girls left and headed for the center of town. “I want to talk to Art Warner and see what he may have learned about Abner Langstreet,” said Nancy.
Bess and George waited in the car, while Nancy went to see the young lawyer. To her astonishment, Judd Hillary sat in the reception room.
He glanced at Nancy malevolently. “You came to see Mr. Warner? Well, you can’t do it, Nancy Drew! I got a previous appointment. And it’ll take several hours!”
CHAPTER XVII
Burglars!
AT A desk in the corner of Art Warner’s reception room sat an attractive, middle-aged woman. Hearing Judd Hillary’s outburst, she looked up quickly and frowned at the man. She smiled at Nancy and gave her a look as if to notify the girl she had come to a sudden decision.
“Miss Drew,” she said, “Mr. Warner will see you at once.”
Judd Hillary fell back in his chair as if he had been struck. A dark, angry flush spread over his face as the secretary opened the door to the lawyer’s private office and ushered Nancy in. As the door dosed behind the young sleuth, she could hear loud complaints from Hillary.
“Hello,” said a young man who had arisen from his desk to greet her. He was tall, wore horn-rimmed glasses, and had an infectious smile.
“I’m Nancy Drew,” his caller whispered. “You probably heard what happened outside. Your secretary was a dear to let me come in.”
Art Warner gave Nancy a big wink, then said in a low voice, “I told Miss Blake you might drop in sometime. She played her part well.” The young lawyer laughed. “Apparently you and Mr. Hillary are acquainted but are not the best of friends.”
“Far from it,” Nancy replied.
Art Warner pulled a chair close to his own, so that the conversation to follow would not be heard in the outside room.
“My dad probably told you something about the mystery,” the young sleuth began, “but I doubt that he told you of certain suspicions of mine regarding Judd Hillary. Since he’s a client of yours, perhaps I shouldn’t say any more.”
Art Warner smiled. “He hasn’t become a client yet, so feel free to tell me anything you wish to. The more I know, the better position I’ll be in to help you.”
“All right,” said Nancy. “I’ll start at the beginning.”
She told about the Monteiths’ strange actions, of their presence at the cave-in, and of the date they had made and failed to keep just before the second explosion. Nancy went on to reveal the story about the hijackers of the stagecoach and her feeling that Judd Hillary was the man in the woods who had whistled to warn them.
Art Warner frowned. “I had no idea this was such a complicated mystery,” he remarked.
The lawyer stared out the window a full minute before speaking again. “I’m glad you’ve told me all this,” he said finally. “I’m eager to learn whether or not what Judd Hillary is waiting to say will have anything to do with your ‘mystery.”
Nancy nodded and now asked Art Warner if he had had a chance yet to find out if Abner Langstreet had ever married.
“I was telephoning all morning about the case,” the lawyer answered. “Of course I haven’t covered every possibility. But it looks as if Langstreet remained a bachelor. At least this much is certain: If he ever married, he went some distance away from Francisville to have the ceremony performed. And if he did have a wife who died before he did, she’s not buried in any cemetery in this locale.”
The lawyer added that he had investigated church registers and town-hall records where a few vital statistics were kept at that time. “None of them reveal his having married anyone, and from what Mrs. Strook was told by her family, it’s pretty certain he never did.”
“If this is true,” said Nancy, “then it makes Ross Monteith, or Frank Templer, an impostor.”
“It sure does,” Art Warner agreed.
Nancy next queried him on what he knew about the explosion. Mr. Warner said it was thought to have taken place under the Francisville end of one of the housing developments.
“That’s not far from where we girls were,” Nancy told him. “It seems almost certain that the Monteiths got me there on purpose.”
Art Warner asked Nancy if she thought there was any connection between Judd Hillary and the Monteiths.
“There might be,” she said. “The three of them have acted strangely toward me, and shown a lot of curiosity about what I’ve been doing. I could almost believe the Monteiths told Hillary I was looking for the old stagecoach.”
“I’ll try adroitly to find out what I can for you,” the young lawyer promised.
Nancy knew that he was eager to have the interview with Judd Hillary, so she arose and said good-by.
“I’ll keep you informed,” Mr. Warner promised.
When Nancy reached the reception room, she gave Miss Blake a big smile. The young sleuth merely nodded to Judd Hillary, then went downstairs and joined Bess and George.
When she told them about her unpleasant experience in the outer office, Bess asked, “What do you suppose Judd Hillary came there for?”
Nancy shrugged. “I can’t guess, but unless it’s something very confidential, I think Art Warner will let me know about it.”
The girls returned to the lodge for a late lunch. No telephone message had been received from the Monteiths and Nancy was sure now that she had been tricked into going to the dilapidated farmhouse for one of two reasons: either to be deliberately harmed, or else to be kept from doing any sleuthing on the stagecoach mystery at that particular time.
“Does this mean,” Nancy asked herself, “that the Monteiths are afraid I’m getting too near the truth and might have trailed the dynamiters?”
Just as the girls finished eating, Nancy received a phone call from Art Warner. He said that Judd Hillary’s reason for coming to him was that he wanted to sell a certain piece of property. It did not have a clear title and he was asking the law yer to make a new search.
“You didn’t learn anything about a possible connection of his with the mystery?” Nancy asked eagerly.
“I’m afraid not,” Art Warner replied. “As a matter of fact, Judd Hillary seemed very ill at ease and anxious to get away as quickly as possible. If he’s guilty of anything underhanded, I believe he thinks you might have told me of your suspicions.”
Nancy was disappointed, but she made no comment. She thanked Mr. Warner for calling her and asked him to let her know any further developments.
As Nancy rejoined her friends, they told her a practice period was scheduled for the water ballet in one hour. “We’re to be at the pool for a work-out,” said Bess.
When the three girls arrived there, the swimming instructor and the social director asked them if they would perform their comedy act for the final show the same way they had done it in the tryouts. Nancy and her friends agreed, but said they felt they should vary it a little, since a good many people had seen it before.
There were few onlookers at the pool now and the girls decided it would be an ideal time to practice. Bess asked what kind of costumes they should wear for the event.
George grinned. “We act like three clowns, so I think clown-type bathing suits would be appropriate.”
Bess demurred. “I don’t mind the suit,” she said, “but what about our hair and faces? I don’t want to wear a frizzy wig and one of those great big red noses like clowns do.”
George’s grin widened as she said teasingly, “Of course you wouldn’t, especially in front of a certain boy named Dave.”
Bess noticed that George was looking past her toward the lodge. The next moment she waved. Bess turned quickly to see Ned Nickerson, Burt Eddleton, and Dave Evans! The three boys, all with deep suntans and crew cuts, hurried over.
“Hi, everybody!” said the boys and girls almost simultaneously.
Ned grinned. “I guess we’re just in time to see three beautiful mermaids. Go ahead and do your stuff.”
“Mermaids?” Nancy answered with a twinkle in her eyes. “We’re just a trio of clowns.”
“What do you mean?” Dave demanded, mystified.
Nancy refused to explain and none of the boys could learn the answer from either Bess or George. “You’ll know in a few days,” George said.
Nancy told them about the water ballet and that the girls must practice for it. “But by the time you fellows unpack and get into your bathing trunks, we’ll be ready to take a swim with you.”
“Neat,” said Burt, and the three boys hurried off.
After the promised swim was over, the six young people sat down at a large table beside the pool. As they sipped lemonade and munched pretzels and nuts which the camp always served at this hour, Nancy brought the boys up to date on the mystery.
Ned whistled in amazement. “It’s sure a dilly. Sounds as if it has about six parts to it.”
Burt laughed. “Maybe each of us should take one part. We’ll do it in shifts. One hour on, and two hours off—in couples, of course.”
“That’s a great idea,” Nancy conceded. “But I think that before starting, you boys should become acquainted with the people and places involved in the mystery. We still have time this afternoon to go to the deserted village at Bridgeford. Then we could stop at Mrs. Strook’s. What say?”
“Good enough,” Ned agreed. “Let’s get dressed and go right away.” A short time later they all set off.
The boys were intrigued by the restoration of the old-time village. John O’Brien was there and Nancy introduced her friends to the trucker. They discussed the old stagecoach and the hijacking, then the young people left.
When they reached Mrs. Strook’s home a little while later, Nancy rang the front doorbell. There was no answer.
“Mrs. Strook must be out,” the young sleuth commented, “but it’s strange that she would leave her front door open. I want you boys to see this quaint house. I’m sure Mrs. Strook wouldn’t mind. Let’s go in and look around.”
She led the way into the living room and then gasped. The place had been ransacked! The desk drawers were open, with papers scattered over the floor. Sofa cushions had been thrown helterskelter, and books tossed from wall shelves.
“Oh, how dreadful!” Bess cried out.
Nancy’s next thought was for Mrs. Strook’s safety. Had the burglars harmed her? The young sleuth began running through the various rooms of the first floor to see if the woman were there.
“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly.
Nancy had just entered a first-floor bedroom. On the bed lay the elderly Mrs. Strook, bound and gagged!
CHAPTER XVIII
Whirring Cameras
Nancy’s friends crowded into Mrs. Strook’s bedroom. “Oh!” Bess exclaimed. “Has she been hurt?”
“I think not,” Nancy replied.
Before she untied the knots with which Mrs. Strook had been firmly bound and gagged, she said to Ned and the other boys, “Aren’t these nautical knots?”
“They sure are,” Ned answered emphatically. “Some sailor or ex-sailor tied Mrs. Strook up with clove hitches.”
He helped Nancy release the elderly woman from her bonds. Gently Nancy advised Mrs. Strook not to sit up. “Just take it easy and tell us what you can,” she said.
“I’ll get you some hot tea,” Bess offered, and hurried to the kitchen.
Nancy introduced Ned, Burt, and Dave. The stricken woman nodded to them but seemed too shocked to reply. But after she had sipped the tea which Bess brought, Mrs. Strook insisted upon getting up and sitting in a chair. Then she began her story.
“It was awful—just awful,” she said. “Two men came to the door and the moment I opened it, they rushed in. One of them said ‘We’re not goin’ to fool around. We want a quick answer. What was Langstreet’s secret?’ ”
“How in the world did they find that out?” George interposed.
“I have no idea,” the elderly woman answered. “When I told them I didn’t know, they said they’d find out themselves. That’s when they tied me up and gagged me so I couldn’t yell. They searched this house thoroughly, I’m sure, from the racket I heard. Oh, I hate to think of going outside this room and looking!”
“Please don’t do it,” said Nancy. “We’d offer to clean things up for you, but the police never want anything disturbed. I must call them. But first, tell me what the men looked like.”
Mrs. Strook said she did not know. Both wore masks and hats pulled down so far over their foreheads that she could not tell the color of their hair.
“By any chance, did one have a scar on his wrist?” Nancy asked.
“I don’t know that, either. Both men wore long gloves.”
“But we do have one possible clue,” Nancy said. “The nautical knots. I think I can give the police a good tip as to who the thugs might have been.”
Mrs. Strook became very pale again, and Nancy insisted upon her lying on the bed. The boys left the room and went to look around for any other clues to the intruders.
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