The Witch Tree Symbol (6 page)

“Maybe,” Bess surmised, “the Kreutzes think you know where Manda is and won’t tell them.”

“That’s possible. They may have been told a witch is responsible for Manda’s disappearance and now they believe I’m that person.”

“I’d like to bet,” said George, “that if we bring Manda back, the Kreutzes will do an about-face.”

Bess wanted to know where Nancy was heading. Nancy said she thought they might try New Holland. It was a good base from which to work.

“I’d like to make some inquiries around that area.”

In New Holland they found a place to eat and ordered breakfast.

“We’d better keep this witch business to ourselves,” Nancy advised, “or we may not find a place to sleep.”

Bess and George smiled, and Nancy asked the woman in charge if she could recommend a boardinghouse. The woman suggested a place about a mile out of town.

“Papa Glick had a bad accident two years ago and had to give up farming,” the woman said. “Now he is a
schumacher.
Mama Glick will rent rooms sometimes. The Glicks are Church Amish. You will be very comfortable there.”

When the visitors finished eating, they went directly to the farm. It was well kept, although many of the fields were in pasture. The house was of red brick. The wooden barn was also red.

A pleasant-faced woman, wearing a green dress and the traditional Amish cap and apron, opened the door. When Nancy stated the reason for the girls’ call, Mrs. Glick invited them in.

“I have four rooms empty,” she said. “Make your choice between.”

The interior of the house, with its homespun draperies and floor coverings, was quaint and attractive. The second-floor bedrooms were spanking clean and just as cheerful. The girls were delighted and at once chose the rooms they would take.

“You are sightseeing in New Holland?” Mrs. Glick asked.

“Yes, we are,” Nancy replied. Feeling she could confide in this pleasant woman, she added, “And we’re also here for another reason.” She told Mrs. Glick about the stolen furniture for which they were looking and their suspicion that the thief might be hiding in Amish territory.

At this moment the girls heard footsteps on the stairs and a boy and girl appeared. Mrs. Glick introduced them as Becky, aged ten, her daughter, and Henner, eight, her son.

“They’re adorable, and how healthy looking!” Bess exclaimed.

Both children had big brown eyes and very straight bodies. Their hair was cut and combed in the Amish style.

Becky wore a prayer cap just like her mother’s and carried a black bonnet over her arm. She wore a long black smock with a white blouse underneath, and a white apron but no kerchief.

Henner held an Amish boy’s hat in his hand. The boy’s blue shirt, black trousers, and wide homemade suspenders were exactly the same as those the girls had seen all the Amish men wearing.

“Henner,” said his mother, “I’m sorry to see you so dirty when we have visitors. Did you fall?”

His sister answered for him. “Henner, he goes by horse stall down.
Iss er net schuslich?”

“Yes, he is careless,” his mother agreed. “Henner, go scrub yourself.”

The girls went downstairs to get their luggage and then unpacked. Half an hour later they were ready to take up their sleuthing.

Just as Nancy, Bess, and George were leaving, they heard hoofbeats and saw an Amish carriage coming up the lane. The horse’s sleek body gleamed and so did the highly varnished black vehicle he was pulling. The carriage was plain, with no dashboard or other trimming. It had a front and rear seat, and was almost completely enclosed.

“Papa kumpt hame!”
the children cried, and ran to meet him.

Mrs. Glick went outside with the girls and introduced her husband, a nice-looking kindly man, but pale compared to Amish farmers they had seen.

After greeting him, Nancy told Mr. Glick what had brought the girls to Pennsylvania Dutch country. The cobbler had not heard of Roger Hoelt, and was sorry to learn about the stolen furniture.

“Mr. and Mrs. Glick, do you know Manda Kreutz?” Nancy asked.

The couple exchanged glances, then Papa Glick said, “Yes,” and added, “We do not approve of young girls running away from home. But maybe her father was too strict. Now she has taken up with Amish strangers.”

“Please tell me about it,” Nancy begged. “Where is Manda?”

“I do not know,” Mr. Glick replied. “But she was seen riding in a carriage with a couple who told a friend of mine, Mr. Weiss, they are from Ohio.”

“Is he sure they are Amish?” Nancy inquired.

“My friend wonders,” the cobbler answered, “because of their speech. He thinks they might be English.”

When Nancy inquired what Mr. Glick meant by the last remark, he explained that among his sect, any non-Amish people were called English, meaning foreigners.

“This pair wore Amish clothing,” he said, “and had an Amish carriage, but maybe they were just putting on.”

Nancy was excited over this latest piece of information. Her hunch had probably been right. The couple were Mr. and Mrs. Roger Hoelt! If Manda Kreutz became too friendly with them, she might get into serious trouble with the law!

“We’re trying to find Manda,” Nancy told the Glicks. “I know it’s hard to believe but her father has had a change of heart and now both parents want their daughter to come home. Can you give us any other clues?” she asked the cobbler. He regretfully said no.

Nancy had a sudden inspiration. “If the Hoelts are masquerading,” she said aloud, “they probably bought a horse and carriage around here recently.”

“Unless they stole them,” George interposed.

“That could easily be done,” Mrs. Glick spoke up. “Amish carriages all look alike. It is difficult to distinguish one from another.”

Then she smiled a little. “The owners have funny ways of telling them apart—a bullet hole from rifle practice or a high board on the floor for a short-legged wife.”

Mr. Glick insisted that an owner did not even need earmarks to tell his carriage from others, “We
chust
look at ‘em. We know ’em!” he said. “Nobody can fool us.”

Nancy told Mr. Glick that she suspected the man masquerading as Amish might be the furniture thief, and she would like to inquire at local carriage factories about any recent purchase by an out-of-state man. The cobbler gave her the name of a factory five miles away, and the girls set off at once for the place. There Nancy spoke to the manager and stated the reason for her call.

“You have come to the right place,” the man said. “But the carriage was not purchased. It was stolen!”

“Stolen!” Nancy gasped.

“Do you know who took it?” the manager asked.

“No. By the way, have you ever met Roger Hoelt?”

“Never heard of him.”

Nancy remarked that maybe the thief had also stolen a horse to go with the carriage.

“You have the nail on the head hit,” the man said. “My uncle, who lives a few miles from here, has a lot of horses. He missed one the same day my carriage was stolen.”

“Quite a coincidence,” Nancy declared. “What color was the horse?”

“Black.”

“Thank you very much, sir. You’ve been very helpful.”

Nancy excitedly hurried outside to tell Bess and George what she had learned. They, too, were enthusiastic about the latest development.

“So now,” said George, “we start roaming the countryside, looking for a fake Amish man driving a black horse and carriage.” She chuckled. “Who wants the honor of pulling off his false beard?”

 

 

 

“THERE’s one thing I’m glad of,” Bess said as the girls drove back toward New Holland. “We don’t have to return to the Kreutzes’ and tell them that their daughter has taken up with a thief.”

“If Manda really is with the Hoelts,” Nancy stated, “I’m sure she has no idea that they’re thieves.”

George pointed out that the Amish girl might have to testify in court if the Hoelts were apprehended. “That would crush her proud parents,” she said.

Presently Nancy noticed that they were near the road that led to the Zinn house. She suggested they stop and tell Mr. Zinn what they had learned about the Hoelts. He might have additional news for them.

“He has no idea where we’re staying now in case he should want to get in touch with us,” Nancy reminded them.

The girls found the antique dealer wearing a broad smile. “I’ve sold many pieces of furniture since yesterday morning,” Mr Zinn said. “And at good prices. Well, have you any news of the stolen antiques?”

Before Nancy could reply, he went on, “You remember that cherry table you were interested in—the George Washington copy?”

As the girls nodded, Mr. Zinn continued, “It was one of the articles I sold.” He chuckled. “A couple came in and asked about it. I named a high price, expecting them to bargain with me. But they bought the table then and there.

“Funny about that couple,” he continued. “Amish, but they don’t live around here. Came from Ohio. A long distance to drive in a carriage.”

Nancy, Bess, and George were astonished.

“Was it drawn by a black horse?” Nancy asked.

“Yes,” said Mr. Zinn. “Why?”

Nancy told him of her suspicions that Hoelt was masquerading. “It’s likely he found out the George Washington tables he stole don’t contain the secret,” Nancy deduced.

Mr. Zinn chuckled. “And because of the high price I set on my copy of the table, he figured it must be the genuine matching piece.”

“Exactly.”

“You mean I had the thief who stole my inheritance right in my shop and I let him get away?” The antique dealer’s face grew red with anger.

“I’m afraid so,” Nancy said. She had a sudden hunch. “How did this man pay for the table?”

“In cash. Big bills,” Mr. Zinn replied.

“May I see them?” the girl requested.

The man unlocked his old-fashioned roll-top desk and took out a tin box. From this he removed five 20-dollar bills.

Nancy took a similar bill from her pocket and held it next to Mr. Zinn’s money. First, she compared the letter, plate, and serial numbers, and the series identification. All seemed to be in order. Next, she compared the paper quality, since she knew that genuine United States currency has a distinctive feel. They were identical as far as she could tell.

While the group watched breathlessly, Nancy examined the scrollworlk on the border of the front and back plates of each note. Now she frowned—in this respect they were lacking in continuity and uniformiity of shading.

“Look!” she exclaimed, pointing out the difference between the five 20-dollar bills, and the sharp clarity of her own.

Mr. Zinn cried out, “Those bills the man gave me—is counterfeit
gelt?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure they are.” Nancy sighed.

The man paced back and forth in his office. Finally Nancy asked him if he were going to call the police to report the counterfeit money.

“Ya, ya,”
the dealer said. He fumbled through the telephone book and then handed it to Nancy, asking her to find the number of the police station.

Nancy made the call. The local police captain said he would send an expert down at once to examine the money.

In a short time two officers arrived. One immediately said the bills were fake. The other policeman wrote down a description of the couple who had bought the table.

“We’ll send a report to the state troopers,” one of the officers said. “We ought to pick up the two of them in no time.”

The girls stayed to wait for a report. But hours passed and there was no news from the police. Late in the afternoon they were looking at several patchwork quilts Mrs. Zinn had made with the help of her neighbors, when her husband rushed into the house.

“Where’s Nancy Drew?” he shouted.

Mrs. Zinn and the visitors hurried to the kitchen, where the antique dealer stood with his feet apart and his hands on his hips. “So this is how you work!” he cried. “You come around here pretending to be friends, and this is what you’re up to!”

Nancy hardly knew what to reply but finally she asked him what he meant.

“As if you didn’t know,” he said, shaking a finger at her. “But you’ve been found out! You thought you could get away with those two valuable lamps of mine, but you didn’t do it!”

The young detective stared. Had the man gone out of his mind? George, now angered, demanded that the dealer explain his accusations.

“Those two lamps in your car!” Mr. Zinn roared. “How long have they been there? The woman told me you’re a witch and now I believe it!”

It was several minutes before Mrs. Zinn could calm her husband enough for him to give an explanation. A woman had telephoned to warn him that a girl by the name of Nancy Drew, who looked very innocent, was really a witch and a thief. She was riding about the countryside stealing small valuable antiques.

“The woman told me,” said Zinn, “that if I looked in your car I would no doubt find something from my shop. Well, I did. Nancy Drew, I’m going to call the police!”

Nancy did not raise her voice, although she too was becoming angry. “Did the woman who called give her name?”

The antique dealer glared. “No, she didn’t. But she was right. I found my stolen lamps hidden under a blanket on the back seat of your car. How can you explain that?”

“I’m sure this is Roger Hoelt’s work,” Nancy declared. “He planted the lamps there and got his wife to make the call. It’s one of the ways he’s been trying to keep me from working on the case.”

Bess was indignant at the man’s continued anger. “Nancy is not only trying to find the thief who robbed your aunt’s estate but has also taught you something about accepting money too hastily from strangers!” she said hotly.

Finally, Mr. Zinn became calmer and said he would not call the police. But he said firmly that he wanted the girls to leave immediately.