Read The Clue in the Old Stagecoach Online
Authors: Carolyn G. Keene
The Clue in the Old Stagecoach (6 page)
Finally the carpenter settled down to work. First he removed the upholstery from the doors and let Nancy thoroughly examine the padding for any clue which might have been secreted there. She found nothing.
Next he removed the leather backing of the seats, but again the young sleuth had no luck. Then the leather lining of the box under the driver’s seat was taken out. There was no clue behind it.
“I guess we’ll have to start taking the sections apart,” Mr. Jennings said.
Doors came off, the roof was removed, all the seats were taken out, and finally the body was separated from the framework. Wheels and pole were taken off. Still no clue came to light.
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Drew,” Mr. Jennings said. “I know how disappointed you are.”
All this time Mrs. Pauling had sat nearby, watching curiously and hopefully. When it became evident that nothing was secreted in the ancient vehicle, Nancy apologized profusely for all the trouble she had caused.
“Please don’t worry,” Mrs. Pauling said kindly. “I’m only sorry that the little dream which all of us had did not become a reality.”
“I admit I’m terribly disappointed,” said Nancy. “But I’m not giving up. I’ve come to this conclusion: We’ve been investigating the wrong stagecoach. This means I’ll have to start all over again and find the right one.”
Mrs. Pauling stared at the girl detective. “I certainly admire your perseverance,” she said. “But how in the world are you going to find the right stagecoach?”
CHAPTER VII
An Attic Clue
WHEN Nancy returned to her room at the camp, she found Bess and George already in theirs. Quickly stories were exchanged with both sides disappointed in the outcome. Bess and George had lost their tennis match that day.
Nancy smiled. “Too bad. But that will give you all the more time to help me solve my mystery.”
“I can see that you already have something in mind,” Bess remarked. “Out with it!”
Nancy said she was going to call on Mrs. Strook the following morning. “Now that the mystery has to be tackled from a new angle, I’m hoping she can give me some helpful information.”
“Good idea,” said George. “Well, let’s go and eat. I’m simply starved. That tennis match sure was strenuous.”
Directly after dinner a group of young people, including Nancy and her friends, gathered in one corner of the lobby. Conversation was light, as they waited to attend an outdoor movie, to be shown as soon as it was dark.
Nancy was talking with Rick Larrabee when she was rudely interrupted by a woman’s voice behind her. “And how did the young sleuth make out today?”
Turning, Nancy looked straight into the eyes of Audrey Monteith. “Oh, very well, thank you,” Nancy replied and turned back to talk to Rick.
Audrey, however, was not to be brushed aside easily. “Nancy, don’t be so secretive,” she scolded. “We’d love to hear about what you’ve been doing.”
Nancy heaved a great sigh, then said as pleasantly as possible, “I really have nothing to tell. I admit I’m trying to solve a mystery, but as yet I haven’t done so.”
Rick took hold of her arm and led Nancy toward the outdoor movie amphitheater. Taking his cue, the other young people followed close behind and took seats all around Nancy, so that the inquisitive Monteiths could not talk to her.
“You’re all dears,” Nancy said, chuckling. “Thanks a million.”
Early the next morning the young sleuth awakened Bess and George. Nancy said she would like to start off for Mrs. Strook’s home before the Monteiths had a chance to follow. Her friends grinned and hurried into their sports clothes. The three girls had breakfast and set off.
They found Mrs. Strook in the front yard, cutting flowers. She greeted her callers with a pleasant good morning, then said, “You must have important news to bring you out so early.”
“We plan a full day of sleuthing,” Nancy replied, smiling. Then she told Mrs. Strook of her failure regarding the old stagecoach. “I feel sure now that this was not the one your great-uncle owned. What I must do is find the right one.”
Mrs. Strook was disappointed, but said she was delighted to know that Nancy would go on with the case. “Have you any idea where to start?” she asked.
“Yes,” Nancy answered. “I’d like to know if you have any possessions of Mr. Langstreet—letters, diaries, books, anything to give us a clue.”
The elderly woman stood lost in thought for several moments, then said, “I can’t think of a single thing that would help, except possibly a diary of my grandfather’s. Come into the house and I’ll try to find it.”
At once the three girls offered to help her search for it. She readily agreed and suggested that Nancy and her friends check the living-room bookcase while she looked in desk drawers. There was silence as the search went on. Ten minutes later all admitted defeat.
“Then my grandfather’s old diary must be in the attic,” Mrs. Strook concluded. “Let’s rest a bit before we go up. In the meantime, I’ll show you something I’m rather proud of.”
From the desk she pulled out a small book filled with stamps. “Collecting stamps, old and new, from all over the world is a hobby of mine,” she said. “A few are rather valuable but they would be more so if they had not been canceled.”
The girls looked at page after page, with Mrs. Strook pointing out the fact that blocks of uncanceled stamps were the rarest and most expensive of all.
She smiled. “Of course I haven’t any of the old ones in blocks or uncanceled.”
“Which is your most valuable?” Bess asked.
“This George Washington one of 1847. It’s not in very good condition but it’s genuine. You know, there are counterfeit stamps on the market.”
“How much would a block of four of these genuine George Washingtons be worth if they were uncanceled?” Nancy queried.
“About ten thousand dollars,” Mrs. Strook replied.
“Hypers!” George exclaimed.
The elderly woman smiled, closed the book, and put it away. She stood up, saying, “I’m ready to continue our search for the diary now. Suppose you girls follow me upstairs and we’ll take a look.”
The second floor of the house was as charming as the first, with its quaint décor and white woodwork. The elderly woman opened a door at the foot of a stairway to the attic and led the way to the very orderly room above.
Trunks and boxes stood in neat rows on one side, while discarded pieces of furniture, including an old spinning wheel, had been pushed under the eaves along the other three sides. There was no ceiling; just rafters and crossbeams. A few boxes stood on the crossbeams.
Mrs. Strook assigned the girls to various trunks and boxes, while she took others. Bess, who had been given a trunk full of costumes, was intrigued. She wanted to take each one out and hold it up, but knew this would take a lot of time.
Carefully she felt down around the clothing and all over the bottom of the trunk, hoping the old diary might be lying there. But she did not find it. Finally she straightened up and closed the lid of the trunk.
Meanwhile, the other searchers were going through boxes and trunks holding old newspapers, letters, and books. Each was carefully examined, not only for the diary, but for some advertisement, a letter slipped between the pages, or a marked passage in some volume that would give a hint about Great-uncle Abner Langstreet’s intentions. Nothing was found.
Finally Mrs. Strook suggested a rest period and sat down on an old-fashioned chair. Bess offered to go downstairs and bring up glasses of water for Mrs. Strook and the others. She could see that the woman was becoming very weary and suggested that she lie down on an antique sofa.
“All right,” she said. “But you strong young people go on with the search. I’ve forgotten what is in those boxes up on the crossbeams.”
After Bess had brought the water and the searchers had drained their glasses, the girls began work again. Each took one of the boxes on the crossbeams and started to pull it toward her. Nancy’s was very heavy and difficult to move. She stood on tiptoe and tugged at it. Little by little the box inched along toward the edge.
Suddenly, as she gave it an extra tug, the box turned upside down and fell directly on her head! Stunned, she let go of it and slumped to the floor.
“Oh, Nancy!” Bess cried out fearfully. She dashed to her friend’s side.
George, too, was there in a jiffy. Mrs. Strook had arisen from the sofa and hurried forward. “Oh dear! Oh dear!” she wailed. “I hope it’s nothing serious!”
“I’m sure it’s not,” George tried to reassure the elderly woman, who had become ghostly pale.
Nancy was murmuring. She opened her eyes and reached one hand to the top of her head. Already a bump was starting to form.
“That was a nasty crack you got,” said George. “I’ll go down and get some ice to put on it.” She hurried down the stairs to the kitchen and returned in less than a minute with ice cubes wrapped in a towel.
By this time Nancy was seated on the sofa, and declared that she would be all right in a few moments. She was relieved, however, to have the ice pack to reduce the swelling on her head. But soon her good humor returned and she remarked facetiously :
“I’ll have to change my hair-do for a couple of days to hide this bump!”
The others laughed and Mrs. Strook in particular felt relieved to know that Nancy was all right. Nevertheless, she shook her head, saying, “It’s wonderful the way you young people can make such quick comebacks.”
The contents of the box Nancy had pulled down were strewn on the floor. Suddenly Mrs. Strook saw her grandfather’s diary. Picking it up, she began thumbing through the old book.
“Here are some items that may help you,” she said excitedly. “It tells about my grandfather’s endeavor to trace his brother-in-law. He contacted every stagecoach line in the country and he had also written to every driver of a private stagecoach whose name he could learn. But no one could tell him anything about Great-uncle Abner’s stagecoach.”
Mrs. Strook continued to read to herself from the diary. The girls did not interrupt. In a few moments she said, “Here’s another item. My grandfather also contacted all the old inns and taverns located along the stagecoach routes. Abner Langstreet never registered at any of them.”
“Well, that eliminates the idea that Mr. Langstreet sold the stagecoach out West,” George remarked. “It looks as if he must have hidden it somewhere around here.”
“Yes, it does,” Mrs. Strook agreed. She sighed. “But maybe by this time the coach has rotted away and we’ll never find it.”
Nancy, determined not to lose hope, said, “It’s my hunch that if Mr. Abner Langstreet loved his stagecoach as much as I’ve been led to believe, he would do everything he could to preserve it. I’m sure that it’s hidden away safely somewhere. He intended to tell in the letter he wrote to your grandmother, Mrs. Strook, where he had put it, but I believe he died without having a chance to do so.”
Mrs. Strook smiled fondly at Nancy. “You’re such a wonderful girl,” she said.
“If you’re right, Nancy,” said Bess, “where do we go from here?”
Nancy had a quick answer. “To the place where Mr. Abner Langstreet spent his last days.”
CHAPTER VIII
A Whistler’s Confession
“PERHAPS you’ll go with us, Mrs. Strook,” Nancy invited. But the elderly woman said she did not feel physically able to make the trip to her great-uncle’s last home.
“Can you show me on a map exactly where it is?” the young sleuth went on.
When Mrs. Strook nodded, Nancy offered to bring a road map from her car. The whole group returned to the living room. As Nancy hurried outdoors, she noticed a truck parked just back of her automobile. Drawing closer, she recognized the driver as Judd Hillary!
As soon as he saw Nancy, the unpleasant man alighted. Facing her, he said angrily, “I’ve been waitin’ for you.”
“Yes?” Nancy asked in surprise.
“I gave you a warnin’, young lady, but you’re not payin’ any attention to it,” Judd Hillary said harshly. “Can’t you keep that nose o’ yours out o’ other people’s business? You don’t live around here. You don’t pay taxes. You just come up here to have a good time. Well, why don’t you stick to that? You don’t have to go runnin’ around messin’ in the affairs o’ our place!”
“I wasn’t aware that I was doing such a thing,” said Nancy coolly.
She planned to ignore the man, but he followed her to the convertible. It suddenly occurred to Nancy that he probably had posted himself there to see what she was doing and where she was going. It might be best not to pull out the map at this time.
Suddenly Judd Hillary burst out, “What did you do with the old stagecoach?”
Nancy was so amazed at the question that she stared dumfounded. But she was instantly on her guard. In reply she said, “Mr. Hillary, why are you so interested in the old stagecoach?”
The man had a ready answer. “Because you are,” he said. “You can’t hide anything from me. You’re workin’ for the opposition. They’re an underhanded bunch. They got somethin’ up their sleeves. If they set you onto examinin’ the old stagecoach, it means somethin’. I want to know what it is!”
Nancy wondered how she was going to get rid of the man. She was a bit puzzled by his attitude. On the one hand he seemed genuinely interested in keeping the local taxes and those of surrounding communities from being raised. On the other hand, the very fact that he had learned she was interested in examining the old stagecoach could even mean he knew the hijackers!
“I wonder how I can find out,” she asked herself. Then an idea came to her and she decided on a bold move. Looking directly at him, she said, “Mr. Hillary, you whistle very well.”
The tall, muscular man fell back. “How do you know that I can—?” Then he interrupted himself abruptly and the momentary look of fright which had come over his face vanished. Setting his jaw, he said, “You never heard me whistle, so what are you talking about?”
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