Read The Clue in the Old Stagecoach Online
Authors: Carolyn G. Keene
The Clue in the Old Stagecoach (9 page)
“I’m not making any accusations,” Nancy replied. “But I think it would be a good idea if we keep our eyes open for suspicious-looking persons.”
The three girls did not notice any such person at first, but just as the group reached a tremendous cave-in of earth caused by the recent explosion, they saw Judd Hillary. Nancy and her chums edged near him. He was talking to a group and wore a self-satisfied smirk.
“Now maybe this’ll drive some o’ those newcomers away,” he was saying.
Bess winked at Nancy, who walked up to the man. “Mr. Hillary, just why are you against progress in this community?” she asked.
The man became livid with rage. “You already know the answer and besides you don’t belong around here. Why don’t you get out and stop snoopin’!”
This crude remark angered Nancy. “No, I don’t live here,” she said. “But I do have a lot of sympathy for people who are in danger.”
“Yes,” George broke in, “instead of feeling relieved that no one was hurt by the explosion, you seem delighted that it happened. You say you don’t want newcomers here because of higher taxes, but there are some people who think you have other reasons for keeping them out which you’re not telling!”
Judd Hillary fell back as if he had been stunned. He seemed at a loss for an answer and a frightened look had come over his face. But he recovered quickly. Throwing back his head, he said disdainfully:
“You got no business talkin’ like that. I don’t have to say any more. Your friend here has had a couple of warnings. Now I’ll give you one:
Leave this place before you get hurt!”
Leave this place before you get hurt!”
At that moment two men stepped forward and took hold of Judd Hillary’s arms. As they began telling him that this was no way to talk to young ladies who were spending a vacation in the neighborhood, Nancy whispered to her friends to follow her. She threaded her way through the crowd, saying, “Maybe those two hijackers are in this with Hillary! Let’s look for them!”
The girls circled the crowd from the rear but did not find the two suspects. Nancy was about to give up when George spotted two men she thought might be the hijackers running toward the road. The girls darted after them. But before they could get close enough to identify the two or read the license plate of a car into which they jumped, the men drove off at top speed.
“Here come the police,” Bess spoke up.
Four officers alighted from a squad car and hurried toward the crowd that had gathered at the site of the explosion. Nancy and her friends followed the policemen. But the officers announced that everyone who could not give them any clue as to who had caused the explosion was to leave.
“I guess that includes us,” said George.
“Maybe not,” said Nancy. “Our clue about Hillary and the hijackers is a pretty slim one, but I think we should tell the police my suspicions.”
She waited until everyone else had gone, then told the officers who she was and what was in her mind.
“Thank you, Miss Drew,” one of them said. “I’ll report this to the chief. I heard about the stagecoach hijacking. You may have a good clue this time too.”
Nancy nodded and the three girls left. Once more they climbed into Nancy’s convertible and headed for Mrs. Strook’s home. They found the elderly woman in a highly nervous state over the explosion. Nancy tried to reassure her, saying everything was all right now.
“But it was most frightening,” said Mrs. Strook. “And come, I want to show you what happened.”
She led them into her dining room where there were several triangular shelves in a corner. On some stood prized pieces of antique glass and porcelain. But many others had crashed to the floor and broken into hundreds of pieces.
“Some of these were priceless,” said Mrs. Strook. “They have been in my family for several generations.”
The girls expressed their sympathy and George added practically, “I’m glad it wasn’t you, Mrs. Strook, who fell and was injured.”
Nancy smiled and said, “I have a nice surprise to tell you about. Suppose I make some hot tea and we’ll sit down and talk things over.” While Nancy fixed the tea, the other girls swept up the broken pieces of porcelain.
After the elderly woman had had a cup of tea and some homemade cookies, she declared she felt calmer and wanted to know what Nancy had to tell her.
“I hope it’s a clue to my great-uncle’s stagecoach,” she said wistfully.
“Yes, it is,” Nancy replied. From her purse she took out one of the strange notes found under the floor at the Zucker farm and handed it to Mrs. Strook. “Is that Mr. Langstreet’s handwriting?” she asked.
“Why, I believe it is,” the woman answered. “I can easily prove it. I have been doing some searching here and came across a letter which Great-uncle Abner wrote to my grandmother not long before he disappeared. I’ll get it.”
Nancy had not shown Mrs. Strook the reverse side of the note with its morbid words. The young sleuth decided to wait until later before discussing this.
When Mrs. Strook returned from the second floor, she was holding a small letter written in a cramped hand and now very faded. Quickly the two signatures were compared.
“There’s no question the same person made both of these,” Nancy cried excitedly. She noted, however, that the one she had brought was very shaky compared to the other. When writing the “burial” notes Mr. Langstreet had no doubt been under a great emotional strain.
“Nancy,” said Mrs. Strook, “tell me again where you found the notes.”
The young detective brought out all thirty notes and turned over several of them. When the elderly woman read the messages, she gave an involuntary shudder.
“What do you think they mean?” she asked.
Nancy explained her theory about the old stagecoach being lovingly taken apart, the sections put into containers to preserve them, and with great ceremony buried box by box.
“I think it may have been right on the farm where he was living,” Nancy explained. “But if so, there’s one angle to it which worries me. The Zuckers can claim the coach and also anything valuable found with it.”
Mrs. Strook was silent a few moments, then she said bravely, “We’ll have to take that chance, Nancy. Perhaps it’s just intuition, but I have a strong feeling that the clue my great-uncle mentioned has no connection with the Zucker property.”
“But suppose the stagecoach is on somebody else’s property?” George remarked. “Then the person who owns that place can claim it, can’t he?”
“I suppose so,” said Mrs. Strook. “Oh dear, what do you think we’d better do?”
“I have another idea,” said Nancy. “Where else did any member of your family own property in this area? The old stagecoach may be there.”
Mrs. Strook went to a desk and brought out a large old-fashioned map. It revealed that Abner Langstreet’s father had owned a tremendous amount of land in the vicinity of Francisville. He had divided it into parcels, giving one to each of his sons and daughters.
“And he had eleven children!” said Mrs. Strook.
She went on to explain that three of the sections were still owned by members of the family, but the other eight had been sold.
Nancy, seeing that Mrs. Strook was becoming downhearted, said with a smile, “Let’s not worry about that just now. I believe we should keep on trying to solve the mystery. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Strook?”
“Indeed I do!” the woman said with spirit. “And I do hope it will be soon. I can hardly sleep nights thinking about it.”
On the way back to Camp Merriweather, Nancy was unusually silent and serious. Bess and George chatted but Nancy did not offer a word of conversation. She was mentally pursuing several new ideas, but always coming to a dead end.
When the three girls reached their rooms, Bess closed the door between them. Nancy was so intent with her thoughts that she did not notice.
“George,” Bess said in a low voice, “Nancy’s in the doldrums. We must get her out of them.”
“I agree, but how?”
“Listen,” said Bess, and with a giggle whispered something into George’s ear.
Her cousin’s face broke into a broad grin. “Swell!” she said. “We’ll do it!”
CHAPTER XII
Shadowing
IN HER own room, Nancy almost automatically took a shower and dressed for dinner. There was to be dancing that evening in the garden on a platform built at one side. She decided to wear a summer cotton of yellow and white and rather tailored in design. She put on white slippers with medium-height heels.
When she was ready, the young detective lay down on the bed while waiting for Bess and George to open the door between their rooms. Nancy mulled over the mystery from every angle.
“I hate to admit it, but it has me stymied at the moment,” she told herself.
Just then someone knocked on her door. Raising herself up and swinging her feet to the floor, Nancy called out, “Come in!”
The hall door swung wide. Nancy’s eyes popped in surprise, then she burst into laughter.
In walked Bess and George, rigged out to look like Audrey and Ross Monteith. Bess as Audrey had her hair pulled high and tight on top of her head with a mop of curls at the crown. She wore an extremely tight-fitting sports dress of George’s. Her cheeks and lips were very artificially red and her fingernails looked as if they had been dipped in garnet paint. She swaggered in on her extremely high-heeled shoes.
George’s outfit was even funnier. She wore baggy slacks, which belonged to Bess, a white shirt, and a very loud sports jacket borrowed from Jack Smith. She swung a cane and kept blinking her eyes at nothing, exactly the way Ross Monteith did when he was assuming an affected pose.
“Beg pawdon, Nancy,” said “Mr. Monteith,” “but I’d be jolly pleased if you would tell me your plans for the evening.”
“Oh, yes,” added “Mrs. Monteith,” “Rossy and I don’t like secrets. We’d prefer being with you wherever you go.”
Nancy was giggling merrily. She got up from the bed and gave the door a slight push to close it. Then she sat down again.
“Oh, Audrey,” said “Ross,” opening a little box in which Nancy kept her costume jewelry, “heah are some perfectly stunning earrings. I’m sure Nancy would be glad to lend them to you in place of the ones you lost in the woods.” George spun the cane in a circle.
“Audrey” gave a sinister chuckle. “And maybe —just maybe—I shan’t return them,” Bess said. She took the earrings out of the box.
At that very moment Nancy’s eyes traveled toward the door to the hall. She thought she had heard a sound outside. Eavesdroppers?
Nancy tiptoed across the room and yanked the door open. Ross and Audrey Monteith stood there! Nancy was not sure whether their look of surprise had been caused by her opening the door so suddenly or because they had been caught eavesdropping. Their look of amazement lasted only a couple of seconds, however.
Then Audrey bubbled, “We came to ask—” Suddenly she looked at Bess and George. “For Pete’s sake, what—”
None of the three girls explained the little skit. If the Monteiths had heard themselves being ridiculed, Nancy and her friends hoped it would be a good lesson to them. If they had not, then there was no point in telling them.
When the callers realized they were not to be told what was going on, Ross Monteith changed the subject. “We came to ask you to help us get up a hayride. I think it would be a lot of fun, don’t you? Audrey and I thought the five of us might take tomorrow off and drive around the countryside looking for a farmer who has horses and an old-fashioned hayrack.”
“It sounds like a lot of fun,” Nancy remarked. “But I couldn’t possibly help you make any arrangements.”
“You have a previous engagement?” Ross asked quickly.
The young sleuth was sure that the man was angling for information about her plans. She decided to give him none, and hoped that neither Bess nor George would speak up.
“I have so many things to do,” Nancy said, “I don’t know which ones to do first. With tennis and swimming and horseback riding here—” She did not finish the sentence and for a few seconds there was silence in the room.
George decided this was an opportune time to get rid of the visitors. She looked at her wrist watch. “My goodness, Bess, we’d better jump out of this gear in a hurry and get ready for dinner or we’ll be late.”
“Yes,” Bess agreed. She giggled. “That wouldn’t do at all because I’m starved.”
As George opened the door between the two rooms, Audrey and Ross Monteith started to sit down. This was not to Nancy’s liking!
Quickly she said, “Sorry I can’t talk to you any longer, but I must help Bess and George.”
“Oh,” Audrey persisted, “they can help themselves. I wanted to ask you a few questions about your plans for—”
Nancy looked directly at Audrey Monteith. “I really must ask you to leave,” she said firmly. She walked to the door. When they still did not come, she went into the hall. The Monteiths realized their dismissal was complete and finally followed her. As soon as they were outside, Nancy stepped back in and bolted the door.
“Such pests!” she thought, and went into the girls’ room.
Her friends were peeling off their costumes, but thinking that the Monteiths might be listening outside, made no comment regarding the couple.
“I brought up a letter for you, Nancy,” said George. “It’s on the bureau.”
Nancy picked it up. “Ned Nickerson!” she told herself. “Good!” Ned, an Emerson College student, had been dating Nancy for many months and had helped her solve several mysteries.
Nancy was delighted with the contents of the letter. Ned had written that he and possibly Burt, who dated George, and Dave, a special friend of Bess’s, would come to Camp Merriweather for a couple of days at the beginning of the next week.
“That’s just a few days from now!” Nancy thought.
After Bess and George had removed their “Monteith” make-up and were putting on sports-type evening dresses, Nancy peeked into the hall. Their unwelcome callers had disappeared. Coming back, she told the girls what Ned had written.
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