A Mysterious Disappearance
Carolyn Keene
Nancy Drew Mystery Stories: Volume Sixteen
The Clue of the Tapping Heels
Copyright © 1939 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
This is original text, 1939
Challenging questions confront Nancy when she attempts to solve the mystery of the strange tapping sounds in the house of a retired actress. Who is the tapper? How does he gain access to the house, despite securely locked doors and windows? Why do the tapping sounds come in Morse code? Is there a sinister motive behind the prowler’s actions? While trying to learn the answers to these and other puzzling questions, Nancy finds her investigations complicated by the dishonest administrator of a will and by a thief who steals the actress’s prize-winning Persian cats.
CHAPTER I
A Code
“Land sakes, Nancy, there’s so much commotion in this house a body can’t even think!”
Hannah Gruen, housekeeper for Carson Drew and his daughter, paused in the doorway of the living room to regard the golden-haired girl who was tap dancing. The radio was on, and Nancy’s heels and toes were clicking a clever accompaniment to the gay music.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
“Dear me, I don’t see how you can make your feet fly so fast,” Hannah declared in awe. “I suppose you’re practicing for some entertainment.”
Nancy Drew laughed as she continued keeping time to the music. Her deep blue eyes sparkled with excitement and her golden curls shone.
“No, Mrs. Gruen,” she replied, “this is for my own entertainment. I’m trying to tap out words.”
“Words!”
“Just listen!” said the girl excitedly. She executed a little dance routine. “I’m tapping out a message. I said, ‘Beware, Mrs. Gruen,' in taps and spaces. Do you understand what I mean?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” the housekeeper replied in bewilderment. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Well, neither have I,” Nancy admitted cheerfully. “The idea came to me as I was practicing a dance. Morse code is sent by means of dots and dashes, you know. So why not a code, using taps and spaces? For instance, to make an ‘A’ I’ll tap out just one quick tap. ‘B’ will be two taps.”
“It seems to me you’d be all worn out by the time you’d come to the last letter in the alphabet,” Mrs. Gruen observed dryly.
“Oh, it wouldn’t have to be twenty-six taps,” Nancy explained. “It could be something simple such as a tap, space, and two taps.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’ll think of next,” smiled the housekeeper.
“The best part is that one would never guess I was tapping out a code!”
The radio selection had come to an end. As the announcer gave the name of the station, Nancy and Hannah realized that someone was ringing the doorbell. Before either of them could answer it the screen door had opened and two girls, George Fayne and her cousin Bess Marvin, walked into the room.
“Don’t you ever answer doorbells?” teased Bess, a dignified looking girl, who always took joy in being well dressed.
“Oh, girls, I’m so glad you came over!” Nancy cried in delight. “I want to show you something.”
“That was a cute dance you were doing,” declared George. “I wish you’d teach us the steps.” Her straight brown bob and slightly turned-up nose gave her a decidedly boyish appearance. Her real name was George, and she delighted in watching the expression on the faces of people who could not understand this.
“I’ll be glad to teach you,” said Nancy, “but you’ll have to learn a code.”
“A code!” exclaimed Bess. “What do you mean?”
Her chum was only too willing to explain. Both George and Bess were intrigued at the idea of actually spelling out messages with tapping heels.
“Why Nancy, if we three knew a secret code we could send messages to one another without others suspecting!” Bess cried.
“That’s what I thought,” Nancy admitted. “We could have lots of fun. And perhaps some time the code might serve a really worth while purpose. One of us might be in danger and need help.”
“How would you tap out ‘I need help!’ ” George asked.
“You would do it like this,” Nancy said, giving a demonstration. “I’ll write the code on paper for you. Then we can try it together.”
The three girls began their dance. So furious was the pace they set that ornaments and pictures in the room began to rock and shake. Once Nancy almost upset a lamp, whereupon Mrs. Gruen told the chums they would have to do their practicing out of doors.
“I’m tried of tapping anyway,” declared the Drew girl. “Let’s go for a drive in the country.”
With Nancy at the wheel the girls soon were speeding along toward the town of Berryville, which was not far from River Heights. As they were discussing their new tap dance code with enthusiasm, Bess suddenly cried out a warning:
“Watch, Nancy! There’s something in the road!”
The driver slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid hitting a small animal which was limping across the highway.
“Did I strike it?” Nancy asked anxiously.
“No, you just missed,” Bess declared, turning to look back. “But the poor thing has been injured in some way. It’s crouching at the side of the highway.”
Nancy brought the car to a standstill and the girls alighted.
‘‘Why, it’s a cat!’’ George exclaimed. “I believe it must be a Persian.”
“Persian cats are valuable,” Bess added. “Do you think it ran away from its owner?”
“That’s quite possible,” agreed Nancy, moving quietly toward the animal. “Perhaps we should take it with us.”
“You may get scratched for your trouble,” warned George.
The fuzzy little animal cringed away, but did not try to avoid Nancy’s grasp. Gently the girl stroked its soft fur, as she examined the injured leg.
“Why, it’s only a kitten,” she declared in surprise. “And I’m sure it’s valuable.”
“It’s half starved, too,” Bess observed. “Perhaps we can get some milk over at that Sandwich Shoppe.” She indicated a small tea room directly across the road.
The girls carried the kitten to Mrs. Pickwick’s spotlessly clean establishment, where they inquired if anyone there had lost the pet. The woman assured them that she had no idea who might own the animal. She added that she disliked cats or dogs to be in her place, so Nancy saw that it would be out of the question to leave the pet with her.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to take Fuzzy home with us,” she said to her chums. “I’d not like to turn the poor thing loose with that injured leg.”
The girls bought a small bottle of milk and Mrs. Pickwick gave them a dish. They fed the animal in the car. Then, leaving the kitten curled up on the seat, they went back to the Sandwich Shoppe for their own luncheon.
Early afternoon found the girls at the Drew home once more, proudly showing Hannah Gruen their new pet. The kindly housekeeper helped them bandage up the injured leg and make a soft bed for the kitten.
Later that evening when Nancy’s father came home from his law office, his daughter asked him to take a look at the pet. By that time Fuzzy was purring contentedly.
“It’s a beautiful animal,” he remarked. “I hope we can find the owner.”
He thought no more about the cat until the following day, when he chanced to read an advertisement in the local paper.
“Nancy,” he called, showing her the item, “here’s something which may interest you. A certain person named A. B. Carter is offering a ten-dollar reward for the return of a lost Persian kitten to the owner’s home in Berryville.”
“Do you suppose that could be Fuzzy?” Nancy asked, studying the words. “Oh, dear, just when I’m getting attached to the little thing I suppose I’ll have to give it up.”
That very afternoon she set off for Berryville with her chums, George and Bess. From inquiries made along the road, Nancy concluded that the person who had inserted the advertisement was not a man, but a woman by the name of Annie Carter.
“It seems she is something of a character,” Nancy reported to her chums. “She is a spinster who came to this section about three years ago. Very little is known about her, but all the neighbors are up in arms against her because she keeps about twenty-five cats at her place.”
‘‘Twenty-five!’’ gasped Bess. ‘‘Think of the milk bill!”
“That’s the point,” Nancy replied. “Apparently Miss Carter isn’t very well-to-do and is unable to feed all her pets. As a result they roam about and howl.”
“No wonder the neighbors complain,” commented George, glancing down at the kitten on her lap. “I was hoping Fuzzy would get a good home.”
“Let’s stop at the next store and buy some canned fish,” Nancy suggested. “We can see that the Carter cats get at least one square meal.”
This was done, then the girls went on, presently drawing up in front of a large white house with many odd-shaped turrets. The dwelling was in need of paint and the yard was neglected, but brightly colored flowers bloomed along the porch.
As the girls went up the walk Bess stumbled over a yellow, gaunt looking cat which blocked her path. She would have fallen had not Nancy caught her friend’s arm. Before the callers reached the porch they came across four other cats, each of which without exception was lean and hungry looking.
Nancy rang the bell. A tall, graceful woman past middle age appeared at the door. She had friendly eyes and a faded beauty which was highly attractive. The Drew girl quickly explained why they had come, and Fuzzy was claimed immediately by its owner.
“So many of my darling cats are straying away,” Miss Carter explained with a sigh. “It is very distressing for I can’t bear to lose a single one. Now let me see—about the reward–”
“Don’t even mention it,” Nancy said hurriedly. “We could not accept anything for what we have done.”
“At least step inside and see some of my beautiful Persians,” Miss Carter urged. “It is so kind of you to have come all the way here.”
The girls followed the distinguished looking woman into the house. The living room was furnished in pieces of a by-gone age, beautiful but in need of repair. Every available chair was occupied by one of Miss Carter’s pets. Out in the kitchen others were meowing and calling.
“They’re not usually as noisy as this,” Miss Carter apologized. “You see, it’s past their feeding time and they’re very hungry.”
“Please let us help you give them some food,” Bess said quickly. “We have several cans of fish in our car. Would they eat that?”
“Oh, yes, they’d love it,” replied the woman with a smile.
The girls ran for the food and helped distribute it in dishes on the back porch. In an instant they were surrounded by frantic cats, each of them determined to get a large share of the food. In the midst of this commotion a man came up the walk briskly.
“Oh, that’s Jed Silbert,” Miss Carter murmured in an undertone. “I suppose he’s here to make trouble again. I did promise to mend the cage out back and keep my pets at home, but I haven’t got at it yet.”
The man kicked angrily at one of the animals which was unfortunate enough to get in his way. Then he looked defiantly at its owner.
“Miss Carter,” he said coldly, “I’m here to tell you for the last time that either you or your pets must go. I speak for my neighbors when I say that our patience is exhausted. Your cats have been running all over doing a great deal of damage.”
“I’ll not let one of them be taken from me,” the woman announced dramatically. “Not even one.”
“Then don’t be surprised if something happens to them,” the man threatened. “We’ve had enough trouble.”
“You’d dare to harm my pets!” Miss Carter cried in indignation. “Mr. Silbert, leave my premises at once. Go!”
Waving her arm in dismissal, the woman moved toward the man, failing to notice that she stood close to the edge of the porch. Before the girls could warn her she stumbled and fell forward down the steps. Mr. Silbert helped her to her feet, but as he turned away he said: “Bear in mind what I’ve said. Either you get rid of the cats, or I’ll find a way to do it for you!”
“Such a horrible, cruel man,” Miss Carter moaned as Nancy and her chums assisted her into the house.
The woman had been stunned slightly by the fall and had several bruises on her arms. She walked with difficulty. The girls induced her to lie down, and to quiet her nerves they applied cold cloths to her head.
While they were working, Nancy heard voices in the garden. Moving to the window, she saw that Jed Silbert had returned with a group of neighbors. The men were talking excitedly among themselves.
“I’m afraid they’re here to make more trouble for Miss Carter,” Nancy whispered to George and Bess. “Let’s go out there and try to reason with them.”
CHAPTER II
Trouble
The group of irate men gathered by the porch. As Nancy and her chums came outside, Mr. Silbert stepped forward.
“Tell Miss Carter we want to talk to her,” he said curtly.
“She’s not able to see you just now,” Nancy replied severely. “She injured herself when she fell down the porch steps.”
“That was her fault for being so obstinate,” Mr. Silbert declared without sympathy. “I tell you we can’t tolerate these cats another day. It’s up to you to do something about them or we’ll take up the matter with the law.”
“I can understand that so many cats might create a nuisance,” Nancy said evenly. “I know Miss Carter is planning to have their big cage mended. I’ll tell her what you say. Of course, my friends and I can’t do anything about it ourselves.”
“Aren’t you her nieces?” Jed Silbert demanded bluntly.
Before Nancy or her chums could answer, a red-faced man with a slightly hooked nose broke into the conversation.
“We know Miss Carter really isn’t hurt,” he said. “She’s too cowardly to face us.”
“I am telling you the truth,” Nancy said quietly. “Miss Carter is lying down.”
“She’s always making excuses about things,” the man said irritably. “She won’t ever answer questions. She’s afraid to tell what became of Gus Woonton!”
“Gus Woonton?” Nancy asked. “Who is he?”
“A poor, simple-minded lad who disappeared mysteriously. Miss Carter pretended to take a deep interest in him.”
“Well, that’s your affair, Bunce,” said Mr. Silbert. “It’s high time Miss Carter clears up a number of things,” he added, pushing forward. “Come on, men! If she insists upon hiding in the house I suppose we’ll have to go inside to see her!”
Nancy, George, and Bess were pushed aside as the group crowded past them into the living room. Miss Carter, who was reclining on a sofa, painfully drew herself up to a sitting position.
“Will you explain the meaning of this intrusion?” she asked haughtily. “By what right do you enter my home uninvited?”
“Never mind the dramatics,” the man named Bunce cut in unpleasantly. “Just tell us what you intend to do about the cats.”
“I’ve already given you my answer. I shall keep every one of my pets.”
“Then you compel us to go to law,” Mr. Silbert told her. “And I warn you we may bring up Gus Woonton’s case, too.”
“What has ho to do with this matter?” Miss Carter asked sharply.
“Fred Bunce tells us that you know what became of the boy.”
“Certainly I do.” Miss Carter’s blue eyes flashed. “And so does Mr. Bunce!”
All the group looked toward the hooked-nosed man, who became somewhat confused. Before he needed to speak a uniformed messenger boy appeared at the door, announcing that he had a telegram for Miss Carter. Nancy carried the message to the woman, who signed for it.
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid to read the telegram,” she declared nervously. “I feel certain someone has died. Please open it for me.”
Nancy by nature was friendly and helpful, and this was not the first time that persons in trouble had appealed to her for assistance. In fact, her deep desire to be of aid to others sometimes involved the girl in perplexing situations.
At sixteen she had enjoyed an unusual career as an amateur detective. She was the only daughter of Carson Drew, a famous criminal lawyer who specialized in solving mystery cases. Since the death of her mother, she had been very close to her father. Resourceful and alert, she had aided him in tracking down elusive clues, and finally had launched forth on her own account by solving a case she called “The Secret of the Old Clock.”
Nancy’s detective ability soon became the talk and pride of River Heights, but achieving fame did not turn her head. She made a point of asking her chums, Bess Marvin and George Fayne, to share her adventures. The girls liked to recall visits to such interesting places as Red Gate Farm, Shadow Ranch, and Larkspur Lane.
Nancy enjoyed all types of games, particularly golf. In recent months her ability in this sport had resulted in the winning of a championship, and in addition had plunged her into a most absorbing mystery.
While searching for a lost golf ball she had chanced to visit the vicinity of the Haunted Bridge, and immediately determined to learn the true explanation for the ghostly figure which was said to frequent the locality. After an exciting meeting with the spectre Nancy did succeed in her purpose, and her efforts likewise solved a mystery and brought happiness to several people.
As the Drew girl now scanned the telegram to Miss Carter her one thought was to be of aid to the anxious woman. “Shall I read the message aloud?” she inquired doubtfully.
“Please do,” requested the spinster, her hands trembling.
“The telegram is signed by Superintendent Johnson of the Riverside Home,” Nancy revealed. “It says, ‘Gus Woonton died at ten today.’ ”
“Didn’t I tell you?” demanded Fred Bunce in a bitter tone. “She had the boy put away, and now, thanks to her, he’s dead.”
Miss Carter turned slowly toward the man and her gaze swept him scornfully.
“Mr. Bunce, you force me to expose you to your neighbors. The lad originally was under your care but you proved to be a cruel, heartless guardian. You neglected him shamefully, so he came to me begging for food. I admit that I was responsible for sending poor Gus to the institution. I have paid his board there, because I couldn’t bear to see him mistreated.”
“You’re responsible for hastening his death,” Mr. Bunce again accused the woman.
“I don’t see how you can say that,” Nancy said reprovingly. “It seems to me Miss Carter was very generous to pay for the boy’s care at the institution. I am sure you’d not find many neighbors so kind-hearted.”
The man paid no attention to the remark. “Rest assured I’ll investigate the boy’s death,” he told Miss Carter angrily. “You’ll be called into court to give an accounting!”
“The Riverside Home is a highly recommended institution,” Miss Carter insisted, her voice breaking. “I feel very bad about the boy’s death, but it was in no way my fault. Gus was never in good health.”
Bess moved to the woman’s side protectingly. She and George both felt that Mr. Bunce had no right to upset the woman with such serious accusations. They correctly suspected that he was merely trying to build up ill feeling toward her among the neighbors to cover up his own neglect of the boy. Nancy too had grown indignant, so that when Miss Carter began to weep she found it impossible not to sympathize with her.
“Don’t worry,” the girl said comfortingly. “I’m sure you’re in no way to blame. If you need legal advice my father will give it to you without any expense on your part.”
“Will you please keep out of this?” Mr. Bunce asked cuttingly. “Your help has not been requested.”
“I can’t expect anyone to fight my battles for me,” Miss Carter said tearfully. “It is good of you to offer assistance, you dear girl, and I appreciate it more than I can tell you. But it isn’t right to involve you in this affair.”
“I really wish to help you,” Nancy insisted. “I’m certain my father will feel the same way.”
“And who is this wonderful father of yours?” Mr. Bunce asked scornfully.
“His name is Carson Drew,” the lawyer’s daughter answered quietly.
The girl found it difficult not to smile, for Fred Bunce appeared stunned when he heard her words. Only too well did he know the reputation the attorney had earned throughout the state.
“Perhaps I spoke too hastily,” he said uneasily. “I—I think I shall go home now.”
“You mean that you withdraw your absurd charges against Miss Carter?” Nancy questioned.
CHAPTER III
The Guardian
“Yes, I withdraw the charges,” Fred Bunce muttered. “I guess that Gus Woonton’s death couldn’t have been helped.”
The man’s admission that he had been in the wrong came as a surprise to the group of neighbors. Many of the men began to feel that after all they may have judged Miss Carter too severely. When the woman politely asked them to leave, after promising she would do all she could to keep her pets from causing anyone further annoyance, they quietly departed.
Fred Bunce lingered until the door had closed upon the last intruder. Nancy and her chums thought that he meant to berate Miss Carter again for Gus Woonton’s death, but he seemed to have lost all his bluster. He said meekly enough:
“I feel very bad about the boy’s death. Of course, I stand ready to take care of all funeral expenses. I’ll attend to everything. The boy can be buried in the Woonton family plot.”
“Very well, Mr. Bunce,” Miss Carter replied.
“Then everything is settled,” the man said in relief. “Neither of us will have to worry about Gus Woonton any more.”
No one spoke until the man had left the house. Then Miss Carter said in a troubled voice:
“Somehow I cannot trust him. He has no feeling whatsoever for poor little Gus. I believe he’s actually relieved because the boy is dead, though he acts otherwise.”
“I think so too,” Nancy admitted quietly. Bess glanced at a clock on the mantel and arose hurriedly.
“It’s getting late,” she observed. “Girls, how about our starting for home?”
“Yes, we really ought to be going,” Nancy agreed, though she gazed doubtfully at Miss Carter.
“Now don’t you worry about me,” the woman said quickly. “I’m quite myself now. I’ll have no trouble at all in getting around.”
To prove her words she arose from the couch and took a step forward. The girls saw her wince with pain. She pressed her hand against her back and sank down on the sofa again.
“You’re not really able to be up and about,” Nancy protested. “It seems to me the wisest thing you could do would be to remain in bed for a few days.”
“Oh, I can’t do that. I have my pets to feed and the house to keep in order.”
“Couldn’t you get someone to help you for a week or so?” suggested George.
“I hardly feel that I can spare the money for a maid,” Miss Carter returned in embarrassment.
The girls had taken a liking to the kind- hearted and attractive woman and really wanted to help her. During their brief visit they had observed that she was not a very efficient housekeeper, and surmised that she might be impractical in money matters as well.
It occurred to Nancy that Mrs. Bealing, who was a relative of Hannah Gruen, would be just the person to set the household to rights. The woman was economical and an excellent manager. The Drew girl was sure that she would work for a very small sum of money, and that a matter of twenty-five cats would not disturb her greatly.
“I know just the person for you, Miss Carter!” Nancy declared.
“But I really cannot afford a housekeeper.”
“I doubt that Mrs. Bealing will charge you very much,” the girl replied. “She’s a kind soul who loves to look after folks. If you’ll consent to having her I’ll ask her if she will come.”
“You’re very kind to me,” Miss Carter said gratefully. “So few persons take any interest in my welfare.”
After making the woman as comfortable as possible the girls sped back to River Heights. Through Hannah Gruen Nancy communicated with Mrs. Bealing, who promised that she would go to Berryville if transportation could be provided for her. Later that same day the lawyer and his daughter drove the woman to Miss Carter’s home.
“I hope you’ll not mind a few cats,” Nancy laughed as she led the housekeeper up the walk. “The place is overrun with them.”
“I don’t much blame the neighbors for creating a disturbance,” Carson Drew remarked. “Twenty-five cats is just about twenty-four too many.”
Nancy had brought several quarts of milk for Miss Carter’s pets. After introductions had been made she thought she would return to her car for the food. Before she could reach the door of the house she heard strange tapping sounds.
“Was that someone knocking?” she asked.
“I didn’t hear anything,” replied Carson Drew. He had been too engrossed in his conversation with Miss Carter to notice anything going on around him.
Nancy went to the door, but as no one was there she decided that probably she had been mistaken. She went to the car, and as she returned with the milk saw that the garden was deserted. Scarcely had she closed the door when she heard the tapping sound again. This time the others noticed it too.
“Perhaps a woodpecker is on the roof,” Mr. Drew said carelessly. He continued his talk with Miss Carter. “Now, concerning your difficulty with the neighbors—you need not be annoyed by having them come to you with their demands. If you keep your cats on your own grounds I doubt that they can prove you are maintaining a nuisance.”
“Dear me, how will I be able to keep my pussies happy in their cage?” Miss Carter asked.
“Have you ever considered giving away some of your pets?” asked the lawyer.
“Well, no–”
“You probably would wish to keep all your beautiful Persians,” Mr. Drew went on, “but it must be difficult to feed and care for so many strays.’’
“Each week more of them come to my door begging for food,’’ Miss Carter admitted. ‘‘My Persians are well trained but the others cause me endless worry. I’d not mind letting them go if I could find someone who would take them.”
“I know a veterinary who might relieve you of their care,” Mr. Drew replied instantly. “If you wish I’ll arrange to have him come here tomorrow.”
Miss Carter remained silent for so long that the lawyer expected her to refuse the offer. Finally she thanked him for his kindness and said that he might make any arrangements he considered wise.
“I’ll hate to part with my cats,” she told Nancy. “I wish you could be here when the man comes for them.”
“I’ll try to run over,” the girl promised. “I’m sure you’re making a wise decision, though.”
“There is one thing I should like to ask,” Miss Carter said, turning toward Mr. Drew again. “I am afraid you’ll think that I am greedy when I bring up the matter–”
“No one would ever accuse you of such a thing,” Carson Drew smiled. “What is your question?”
“I have paid out a fairly large sum of money to the Riverside Home for the care of Gus Woonton. I was very glad to have done it although rightfully the burden should have fallen upon Fred Bunce.”
“The lad’s guardian?”
“Yes. I am sure he had money in trust for the boy, but was unwilling to spend it on him. Several times he and his wife went away from home for a week at a time and left poor Gus to shift for himself.”
“How could they!” remarked Nancy. “What makes you believe that the man held money in trust for the boy?” inquired Mr. Drew.
“I have no proof, but for a long while I’ve been suspicious of Mr. Bunce. Then, when he was so eager to relieve me of paying the boy’s funeral expenses, I thought again that Gus must have had means. Fred Bunce isn’t the kind of a man to spend his money on someone else.”
“I agree with you,” Nancy nodded.
“Coming to the point,” Miss Carter went on, “I should like to know if it would be possible for me to recover from Mr. Bunce any of the money which I advanced for the boy’s care.”
“That would depend upon the administrator of the estate,” replied Mr. Drew. “No doubt Fred Bunce will try to secure the appointment.”
“Then it’s hopeless,” the woman sighed. “Fred Bunce never would admit that Gus left a penny. And certainly if he did, he’d never give me any of it.”
She spoke no more of the matter. In a few minutes Nancy and her father left the house, bidding the woman a cordial good-bye.
“Dad, why don’t you have a talk with Mr. Bunce?” the girl suggested hopefully as the two walked toward their car. “He lives in this neighborhood.”
“Miss Carter isn’t a client of mine, Nancy.”
“I realize that, Dad, but I know she cannot afford to engage a lawyer. She’s too proud to come to you and ask you to help her.”
“I’m not sure that I could do so if I wished. If the boy Gus left any money, Bunce probably will be clever enough to get every penny of it for himself.”
“Not if he were to deal with you,” Nancy said flatteringly. “Oh, Dad, I do wish you’d talk with that man and ask him a few questions. Miss Carter is deserving of help.”
“Where is the Bunce place?” Mr. Drew asked, beginning to give in to his daughter’s desires.
“See that white cottage?” Nancy pointed eagerly down the street. “It won’t take us a minute to talk with the man.”
She tugged at her father’s arm and he allowed her to lead him down the street.
“This isn’t to my liking,” he declared, frowning. “I’m doing it just to please you, remember.”
Nancy and her father approached the homestead, observing that the garden had not been well tended. The grass had been allowed to grow very long, and dense bushes which lined the walk were in need of trimming.
As the two turned in toward the house, Nancy suddenly stopped short. Carson Drew glanced at his daughter in astonishment.
“What do you see?” he asked, for her gaze had centered upon a group of bushes near the corner of the cottage.
“Someone was watching us from behind the foliage,’’ she said tensely. “As we came up the walk I distinctly saw a dark figure slip around behind the house!”
CHAPTER IV
A Distinguished Visitor
Carson Drew moved quickly toward one corner of the house while Nancy went the other way. No one was in sight.
“Perhaps you were mistaken, Nancy,” he said.
“I’m certain I saw someone, Dad. However, it might have been Mr. Bunce or even a neighbor’s boy.”
“Well, there’s no one here now.”
After glancing about again Mr. Drew rapped on the door of the Bunce home. Footsteps were heard, and in a moment a thin woman of middle age wearing a dirty gingham apron over her dark dress appeared in the doorway. She had a sharp, unpleasant face.
“What can I do for you?” she inquired brusquely.
“Is Mr. Bunce at home?” the lawyer asked.
“He stepped out for a minute. I’m looking for him to come back shortly.”
“Then may we wait for him?” Mr. Drew requested when the woman did not extend them an invitation to enter.
“I was just getting supper for my husband—” Mrs. Bunce frowned. “But yes, come in if you like.”
Nancy and her father could not fail to notice the appearance of the living room. The rug had not been swept in many days, the windows were splattered with dirt, and odds and ends were strewn about everywhere. A heavy screen of smoke hung in the air, revealing that Mrs. Bunce had burned some dish which she had been preparing in the kitchen.
“Just sit down and make yourselves comfortable,” the woman said, dusting off a chair for Nancy.
“Do you mind if I open a window?” the girl requested.
“I suppose you object to the smoke,” Mrs. Bunce said tartly. “I can’t open a window because my husband didn’t put up the screens.”
“I thought it seemed a trifle close,” Nancy replied quickly. “It really doesn’t matter.”
“You didn’t tell me your business,” the woman said, turning toward Carson Drew. “You’re not a salesman?”
“No, Mrs. Bunce, I wish to talk with your husband about a boy who has been under his care.”
“You mean Gus? He’s not here any more.”
“So I understand. The boy died at the Riverside Home, I believe?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Bunce agreed, “but it was none of our doing that he was sent there. He had a good home with us.”
“I’m sure he did,” agreed Mr. Drew pleasantly.
“We took care of him for years until that old Miss Carter made so much trouble.”
“I imagine you received pay for your work,” the attorney suggested casually.
“Well, naturally we took board money from Gussie’s inheritance,” Mrs. Bunce admitted. “But I wish now we’d used more of it. Who had a better right to it!”
Before Mr. Drew could reply, a step was heard outside and Mr. Bunce came into the room. He glanced sharply at Nancy, then eyed the lawyer with guarded suspicion.
“These folks have come to ask about Gus,” Mrs. Bunce said quickly.
“What is it you want to know?” the man questioned abruptly.
“I am here in the interests of Miss Carter,” explained Carson Drew. “I understand that she advanced money for the boy’s care at the institution, and would like to be repaid from his estate.”
“That’s a good laugh. Gus Woonton’s estate! The boy didn’t have enough to take care of the funeral expenses. I’ll be out a good many dollars for his burial.”
“I understood from your wife that Gus had a substantial inheritance.”
Mr. Bunce glanced angrily at the woman. “Molly always gets things mixed,” he said irritably. “The boy had a small amount of money left him, but it’s been gone some time.”
“You are prepared to give an accounting of the funds, I assume?” Mr. Drew questioned.
“Of course. Do you mean to suggest that I’ve used the money myself?”
“Not at all, not at all,” Mr. Drew returned, unruffled. “I merely was inquiring in the interests of Miss Carter. If the boy left no money, then naturally she cannot expect to be reimbursed.”
“Well, that’s the way it is,” Mr. Bunce announced flatly. “In the first place, she had no right to send the boy to an institution. Tell her she can’t get a penny.”
“I’ll deliver your message,” Mr. Drew smiled. “Good afternoon.”
During the ride back to River Heights Nancy asked her father if he believed that Mr. Bunce had been speaking the truth.
“The man acted as if he were telling an untruth, Nancy. I’d not be surprised if Gus did leave an estate, but to prove it is another matter.”
“I wish we could do something to help Miss Carter.”
“Yes, but we have no right to involve ourselves in the affair, Nancy. I don’t feel like pressing the matter.”
The girl realized that her father was taking a wise stand, yet she could not help but feel sorry for the attractive, kindly woman who seemed unable to fight her own battles. The following day, in company with George and Bess, she went again to Berryville, there to meet the veterinary who had agreed to take away several of Miss Carter’s cats.
“I’m so glad you have come,” Mrs. Bealing said to Nancy in an undertone as the girls entered the house. “This place gives me the creeps.”
“Too many pussies?” Nancy laughed.
“Yes, and other things too. I’ve been hearing such strange tapping noises.”
“When was this?” Nancy inquired alertly.
“Last night. My bedroom is directly over the kitchen. I could hear someone tapping below me and it seemed to come from the kitchen.”
“Didn’t you get up to investigate?”
“Yes, I did, but then the sounds ceased. It was all so strange. And that’s not everything. Someone has been poisoning Miss Carter’s pets! She’s terribly upset about it.”
“I should think so,” agreed Bess. “Are you sure the cats were poisoned?”
“There’s no question about it. Three died last night and two more this morning. I found food lying in the yard and I’m sure it was placed there deliberately.”
“You don’t think Fred Bunce would do a trick like that?” George suggested.
“He’s just the person I’d suspect,” Mrs. Bealing declared.
The girls went upstairs to see Miss Carter, and were sorry to find her in an excited state of mind.
“I am glad the veterinary is taking most of the other cats away,” the woman told them. “Anything is better than to have them poisoned. How could anyone be so heartless as to do such a thing?”
Nancy and her chums remained with Miss Carter for half an hour and were even more favorably impressed by her personality. The woman had a dramatic way of speaking which commanded attention even though her words carried no great significance. She punctuated her conversation with graceful gestures, a characteristic that convinced Nancy the spinster might have been on the stage at some time during her life.
“I should like to ask her if she were ever an actress,” the girl thought. “When I know her better perhaps I shall.”
Leaving George and Bess to chat with Miss Carter, Nancy went downstairs to ask Mrs. Bealing if she could be of any help. The housekeeper assured her that the day’s work had been done, so she turned to go back upstairs.
As she crossed the living room floor Nancy glanced out the window and saw that a fine car had drawn up in front of the house. A chauffeur opened the door so that an elderly gentleman might alight. He came toward the house, jauntily swinging a cane, then pressed the bell. After a brief interval the Drew girl opened the door.
“Good afternoon,” he said, bowing and smiling. “Will you be so kind as to tell Ladiviolette that Horace St. Will is calling?”
“Ladiviolette?” Nancy repeated in perplexity. “Oh, I’m afraid you have the wrong house. No one by that name lives here.”
“I was certain this was the place,” the man said, showing his disappointment. “I must have been given the wrong street number. A thousand pardons for having disturbed you.”
He bowed himself away and returned to the car. Nancy watched the automobile drive off, then dashed up the stairs to Miss Carter’s bedroom.
“Has the veterinary arrived yet?” the spinster inquired when she saw the girl. “I heard a car on the drive.”
“No, that was a stranger who came to the wrong house,” Nancy returned. “He was asking for someone by the name of Ladiviolette.”
Miss Carter painfully raised herself to a sitting position. Her voice was excited as she cried:
“Lady Violette! Why, that is my name! I am Lady Violette!”
CHAPTER V
Old Costumes
“You are Lady Violette?” Nancy gasped. “Why, the gentleman pronounced the words so rapidly I thought it was all one name.”
“Lady Violette was a character in one of my plays,” Miss Carter explained, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I have been an actress, you know. Who can the man have been?”
“He gave his name as Horace St. Will.”
“Oh, I was his leading lady years ago! Horace wanted me to marry him, but at that time I was very devoted to my own family. Then too, I was determined to have a career. How I should have enjoyed talking with him again.”
“Perhaps I can bring him back,” Nancy said hurriedly. “The car can’t be very far away.”
She started toward the door only to have the actress call after her, “Wait! I dread to have Horace see me now. I was beautiful when he knew me and I’d like to have him carry that picture with him to the end.”
“You are lovely still,” Bess declared warmly. Miss Carter shook her head sadly.
“At fifty a woman may have character, dignity and poise, but no longer is she beautiful in the same fresh way. Horace would find me greatly changed if he were to see me now.”
“You could fix yourself up a bit,” George said coaxingly. “Haven’t you any of the old costumes you used to wear in the days when you knew Mr. St. Will?”
“I still have the gorgeous gown I wore as Lady Violette! It was designed at Mil burns’. I have treasured it all these years.”
Nancy now was convinced that Miss Carter really did wish to see Horace St. Will.
“I shall try to overtake the car and bring the man back!” the girl cried. “I believe I can do it if I hurry.”
Leaving Bess and George to assist Miss Carter to dress, Nancy ran down the stairs and jumped into her car. Fortunately she had noticed that the other automobile had turned south.
The road, quite deserted, ran fairly straight with but a few turns. Nancy drove rapidly and very shortly was elated to observe that she was overtaking another machine. Soon she drew near enough to recognize Mr. St. Will’s limousine.
So intent was Nancy upon overtaking the car that she failed to notice another automobile approaching the main highway from a narrow side road. The driver, ignoring the stop sign, emerged unexpectedly beyond the screen of trees, swinging directly into the path of the oncoming machine.
Nancy slammed on her brakes but could not avoid a crash. She pulled as far to the right as possible but even so the fenders of the two cars came together. One glance assured the girl that the damage had been trifling. She would have hastened on in pursuit of the St. Will limousine had not the driver of the car started to berate her.
“See what you’ve done to my fender!” he cried indignantly. “You’ll have to pay for the damage.”
Nancy recognized Fred Bunce and regarded him coldly.
“You are the one who ran into me, Mr. Bunce,” she accused. “According to law you must make a complete stop before driving out on the main highway. If there is any claim for damages I shall be the one to make it!”
Without waiting to hear the man’s reply she shifted gears and drove away rapidly. The St. Will automobile was now far down the road. Nancy gradually gained distance, and when the big car turned into a filling station she drew up beside it.
“Oh, Mr. St. Will,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve been trying to overtake you ever since you left Berryville. I made a dreadful mistake in sending you away.”
For a moment the man did not recognize the girl. Then he smiled broadly.
“When you inquired for Lady Violette I had no idea you meant Miss Carter,” Nancy added.
“Then she does live in Berryville?” the elderly gentleman asked eagerly.
“Yes indeed, and she’s eager to see you, Mr. St. Will.”
“We’ll turn back at once,” the actor declared. “I was deeply disappointed because I had failed to locate my dear friend. I never could understand why she insisted upon hiding from the world.”
He thanked Nancy most politely for having gone to so much trouble in his behalf. She chatted with him a moment longer, then turned her auto in order to lead the way back to Miss Carter’s home.
With the aid of George and Bess the actress had managed to descend the stairs and establish herself in the living room. The change in the woman’s appearance was amazing. During Nancy’s absence the girls had gone to the storeroom and had found the Lady Violette costume. Bess had arranged Miss Carter’s hair in becoming fashion while George assisted the actress with putting on her make-up.
“Lady Violette!” Mr. St. Will murmured as he moved forward to clasp her hand. “You are even lovelier than I remembered you.”
“The years have been kind to you also, Horace,” replied Miss Carter graciously. “How good it is to see you again.”
“You could have seen me long ago had you not kept your address a dark mystery,” Mr. St. Will said chidingly. “Why have you hidden away from all your old friends?”
“Well, it is a long and somewhat painful story, Horace. Need we go into it now?”
“No, we’ll talk over old times instead,” the actor responded, sensing Miss Carter’s reluctance to tell of her misfortunes.
The girls politely started to leave the room, but the happy woman insisted that they stay. Before Nancy could protest, Mr. St. Will asked his leading lady:
“Do you remember that last play we were in together, called ‘The Tapping Heels’?”
“It was our greatest hit,” Miss Carter declared happily. “I wrote nearly all the conversation myself. I loved the part we did together.”
Dramatically she quoted one of the speeches from memory, and Mr. St. Will responded with his own lines.
“Oh, I wish you would act out the entire scene!” Nancy cried in delight.
“We would need several other characters in order to do that,” returned Miss Carter. “But I have all the costumes in the storeroom.”
“Couldn’t we act out the supporting roles?” Bess pleaded.
“Yes, run up and get the costumes,” Miss Carter laughed. “I will teach you the lines. I’ve not forgotten a single word of the entire drama.”
For the next hour the girls thoroughly enjoyed themselves. They dressed up in the beautiful velvet costumes and spoke the lines which Miss Carter wrote down for them.
Horace St. Will and his leading lady seemed to forget the other actors, so absorbed were they in their own parts. They played to each other, and Nancy noticed that the love scene was depicted with great depth of feeling.
“They still care for each other,” she thought. “How nice it would be if Miss Carter would decide to marry Mr. St. Will. They have so much of mutual interest. Both of them would be so happy.”
Mrs. Bealing had listened to the play from the kitchen. When the final lines were spoken she appeared in the doorway with a tray of sandwiches and hot chocolate.
“Intermission time,” she laughed. “I declare, I was so interested I scarcely could do my work.”
While everyone was chatting gaily and enjoying the refreshments, Nancy heard the doorbell ring.
“I’ll answer it,” she said, jumping up from her chair.
Fred Bunce was standing on the front porch. The girl’s first thought was that he had come to make trouble for her about the smashed fender on his auto. However, the man said sullenly:
“I want to see Miss Carter.”
“She has a visitor now,” Nancy replied, for she knew that the woman would not care to be annoyed. “Will you come back later?”
“No, I won’t,” Mr. Bunce answered crossly. “I know Miss Carter isn’t busy, and I’ll talk with her right now.’’
Before Nancy could stop him he had pushed open the screen door and walked boldly into the living room.
CHAPTER VI
An Interesting Clue
Mr. Bunce did not seem to be the least bit dismayed to discover that Miss Carter was entertaining a friend.
“I’d like to know what you mean by sending a lawyer to see me about Gus Woonton’s estate,” the man began angrily, addressing the spinster.
“Please, Mr. Bunce, I prefer not to discuss business just now. I have a visitor.”
“Oh, all right,” the neighbor said abruptly. “But understand, you can’t expect to get one penny of that money back.”
With a cold glance directed at Nancy the man left the house.
“I’m so sorry that dreadful person came here, Horace,” Miss Carter declared regretfully. “He is so unreasonable and has caused me a great deal of worry.”
“He spoke of someone named Gus Woonton,” Mr. St. Will said thoughtfully.
“Yes, I befriended the poor lad. Mr. Bunce neglected the child shamefully. At my own expense I had Gus placed in the Riverside Home. Mr. Bunce was satisfied with what I did at the time, but now he seems bent upon making trouble.”
“Woonton is a very familiar name,” Mr. St. Will said slowly. “You may recall that Ralph Woonton was distantly related to me.”
“Why, I never heard you speak of it,” replied Miss Carter in surprise.
“I did not know Ralph well, for he and his wife traveled a great deal.”
“Gussie’s father was a man by the name of Ralph Woonton,” Miss Carter declared. “Surely they couldn’t have been the same person?”
“I wonder—” the elderly actor mused. “I don’t recall that my relatives had a son named Gussie though it is possible they might have. I believe I still have all the letters Ralph wrote to me.”
“Do you suppose you could find them?” Nancy interposed eagerly. “Perhaps they contain information which would be of use to Miss Carter.”
“I have the letters packed away in a trunk somewhere. I’ll find them tonight.”
“Would it be too much to ask that if you should discover any interesting information you would get in touch with my father? His name is Carson Drew and he has offices in River Heights.”
“Mr. Drew is a well known lawyer who has taken an interest in my case,” Miss Carter added.
“Let me write down his address,” said Mr. St. Will. “I’ll telephone him as soon as I have read the letters.”
It was late when Nancy and her chums bade good-bye to Miss Carter. They had a great deal to discuss on their way home, for the day had been an exciting one.
“I’ve suspected from the very first that Miss Carter was once an actress,” Nancy declared. “She’s a dear and so is Mr. St. Will.”
She drove George and Bess to their homes, then went on to her own residence. Carson Drew, having returned from his office, was digging in the garden. Nancy sat down on a nearby bench. While she watched her father hoe the radish bed she told him of her meeting with Mr. St. Will.
“That’s interesting,” the lawyer replied. “You say the man is acquainted with the Woonton family?”
“Yes. He promised to look through some old letters and see if he can learn anything which may be of help to Miss Carter.”
“I see you’re bound to involve me in this case,” the lawyer smiled. “I am willing to do what I can to assist the woman, but I really doubt that she will be able to collect a cent. Very likely Mr. Bunce has already spent any money the boy may have inherited.”
“Then he certainly should be punished,” Nancy replied feelingly.
She did not expect to hear from Mr. St. Will for several days, so she was surprised when the actor telephoned by long distance that same evening.
“I have just finished reading the Woonton letters,” he told Nancy.
“Did you learn anything of interest?” the girl asked eagerly.
“Yes, I believe I’ve stumbled upon something rather amazing, Miss Drew. I should like very much to show the letters to your father.”
“I’ll make an appointment for you,” Nancy offered. “My father isn’t here now, but I am sure he’ll be able to see you at his office tomorrow at ten o’clock. If not, I’ll call you back later tonight.”
“Excellent. I shall be there, Miss Drew.”
Nancy was deeply excited. She sat up until her father came home from a meeting downtown and assured his daughter that he would be able to see Mr. St. Will at the appointed hour.
“May I be there too, Dad?” Nancy asked. “I’m just dying of curiosity to find out what Mr. St. Will discovered in those letters,” she added with a teasing look in her eyes.
“This is more your case than mine, my dear,” her father laughed. “By all means come to the conference.”
The next morning at ten o’clock the girl was eagerly awaiting the actor’s arrival at the law office. His limousine drove up exactly on time. A secretary escorted the man into the presence of Carson Drew and his daughter.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting,” Mr. St. Will said as he seated himself.
“Not at all,” responded the lawyer cordially.
“Here are the letters,” the actor continued, taking a package from his coat pocket. “I thought you might like to read them yourself.”
“You mentioned over the telephone that you had stumbled upon something important,” Nancy suggested eagerly. “Will it help Miss Carter’s case?”
“The letters reveal an amazing fact,” replied the actor. “Ralph Woonton and his wife had no son!”
“Then the Ralph Woonton you knew couldn’t have been the right person,” Nancy murmured in disappointment.
“On the contrary, I feel certain that he was the person claimed by Bunce to be the father of Gus.”
“Why do you think that?” asked Carson Drew.
“Because I have taken it upon myself to do a bit of investigating since yesterday,” the actor replied. “I spent half the evening on the long distance telephone, but I feel well repaid for my efforts.”
“What did you learn?” Nancy questioned eagerly.
“First, that my relative, Ralph Woonton, employed a secretary some years ago by the name of Fred Bunce. While the Woontons traveled, he usually remained at the family mansion to look after business affairs.”
“That’s certainly interesting,” Nancy commented, leaning forward in her chair.
“Yes. Upon learning this my suspicions were aroused. I made up my mind that probably Bunce was a schemer. My next act was to talk with the police.”
“Has the man a record?” asked Carson Drew.
“Apparently not,” replied Mr. St. Will, “but I learned Bunce had informed the authorities that the Woontons had a simple-minded son named Gus living at the mansion.”
“A deliberate falsehood!” Nancy exclaimed.
“These letters from my relative prove that no child existed. It was always the regret of Ralph and his wife that they were childless and they talked of adopting a baby.
“The Woontons died in South America without leaving any will, or if they did leave any, none ever was found. Fred Bunce then came forward, claiming the entire estate for the boy Gus.”
“I imagine he succeeded in having himself appointed guardian too,” Mr. Drew commented.
“Yes, no other person seemed to take any interest in the boy. Gus was sent away to a school, but in a few months he ran off and returned to live with Mr. and Mrs. Bunce. They kept the boy with them until he was entered at the Riverside Home.”
“All that time the Woonton estate gradually dwindled, I suppose,” remarked Nancy.
“Yes, it is my belief that Bunce managed to squander nearly all that was left.”
“This case has several very interesting angles,” Mr. Drew commented. “If the Woontons left no son of their own, then I wonder who this lad is who passed under the name of Gus?”
“I should like to know the truth, too,” the actor declared grimly. “That fact is a mystery in itself.”
Nancy was of the opinion that Fred Bunce deliberately had schemed to secure the Woonton fortune for himself. She was highly pleased when her father expressed a similar thought.
“I should like to have you take the case, Mr. Drew,” requested the actor. “I have an interest in seeing justice done, and Miss Carter is deserving of aid.”
“She has not asked me to represent her,” replied Mr. Drew thoughtfully.
“Miss Carter is very proud. I doubt that financially she is able to ask the services of a lawyer. I will guarantee you your fee, Mr. Drew.”
“I’m not worried on that score,” said the attorney, smiling broadly. “I just would like to be sure Miss Carter really wants me to do the work.”
“I wish you would take the case, Dad,” Nancy urged. “I’m certain Miss Carter would be grateful for any aid you might give her.”
The lawyer was silent for a moment, then he said:
“This case does interest me. I’ll keep these letters and read them tonight. In the meantime, Mr. St. Will, do not hint to Mr. Bunce that he is under suspicion. We’ll conduct a quiet investigation. When we have gathered all our facts, we’ll spring our trap.”
After promising to keep in close touch with the lawyer, the actor left the office. Presently Nancy went home.
During the next few days the girl became impatient for action. It seemed to her that her father was doing nothing at all about the case.
“You must learn to take matters more calmly, my dear,” the lawyer chided when she spoke to him about it. “It would be folly to act too hastily in this case. After all, our evidence is not very complete.”
“I don’t see that we’re learning anything by waiting,” Nancy complained. “I should think the thing to do would be to arrest Bunce and have the police question him.”
“He would deny everything, and our evidence might not stand up. We have no proof that the man stole any funds. Our case must be air-tight.”
Nancy said no more for she realized that her father was right. The day following this conversation, while she was downtown to buy curtain material for the sun room, she saw a familiar figure. She was just turning into one of the River Heights department stores, when her attention was drawn to the man who came hurriedly down the street.
“Why, that is Fred Bunce,” the girl observed. “I wonder where he is going in such a big hurry?”
She stepped into the entrance of the store so the man would not notice her as he went by. Nancy saw him cross the street and enter a large white stone building. Her curiosity was aroused for she knew that the offices were rented to firms in the stock market business.
“I’m going to follow him!” the girl decided impulsively. “Maybe that is where he squandered the Woonton money!”
CHAPTER VII
Disturbing Events
Nancy reached the building in time to see Mr. Bunce enter a brokerage office on the first floor. The girl peered through the open door.
The room was crowded with persons watching stock market quotations being chalked up by a clerk on a large blackboard. Some of the customers were buying, others were selling, and there was a general air of confusion everywhere.
Nancy caught sight of Mr. Bunce standing at one of the desks. She sauntered into the room, confident that she would not be noticed in such a crowd. Pretending to be studying the figures on the blackboard, she moved close enough to hear what the man was saying.
“Listen, I’m an old customer,” Bunce protested to the manager. “I have a sure tip on this stock. If you’ll carry my account for three days I’ll be able to repay you and make a cleaning.”
“Sorry, but we don’t do business that way,” replied the broker. “You’ve already lost a large sum of money here, and we’re not encouraging your account. Take my advice and get out of the market while you still have a little money left.”
Nancy did not hear Bunco’s reply. She had learned everything she cared to know. Turning, she slipped from the room and emerged on the street.
She forgot all about buying the curtain material. Her one thought was to reach her father’s office as quickly as she could. Carson Drew glanced up in surprise as his daughter burst into his private suite.
“Oh Dad!” Nancy cried. “I’ve just learned something which may help us win Miss Carter’s case.”
“And what is that, my dear?”
“I found out that Fred Bunce carries a brokerage account at the Howard, McClellan, and Farrar firm.” Thereupon she related what she had overheard.
“You believe that Bunce has been squandering large sums of money?”
“I’m almost sure of it, Dad. And where would he get the money if not from Gussie’s estate?”
“Now that we have a clue, it will be an easy matter to have his account with the firm examined,” Carson Drew declared. “We can trace down to a penny the sum Fred Bunce has spent there.”
“That’s what I thought, Dad. Couldn’t it be compared with the normal amount of his income to see if he had been using funds which didn’t belong to him?”
“Yes,” Mr. Drew nodded, “that’s exactly what we’ll do. If we find anything suspicious, we’ll institute a law suit, calling upon him to give a complete accounting of Gussie’s estate.” At this point in the conversation the lawyer’s secretary entered to say that a client was waiting to see Mr. Drew. Reluctantly Nancy said good-bye to her father.
She looked forward to discussing the case more in detail that evening, so she was disappointed when Mr. Drew telephoned at five-thirty to say that he would be late in getting home. Hannah and Nancy dined alone. After the dishes had been dried the housekeeper busied herself with crocheting while Nancy tried to do a little reading.
“For some reason I feel uneasy,” she complained to Hannah. “I can’t keep my mind on my book.”
“Why don’t you go up to bed?” suggested the housekeeper.
“Oh, it’s too early. I’ll take a little walk outside. Perhaps that will quiet my nerves.”
“Your nerves!” laughed Hannah. “You haven’t a bad one in your body. You’re merely restless for something to do.”
“Listen!” Nancy Drew commanded suddenly. “What was that?”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
The girl moved quickly to the window and looked outside.
“What do you see, Nancy?”
“Nothing, but I was sure I heard a tapping noise.”
“You must have imagined it.”
“No, I’m certain I didn’t.”
Before Hannah could protest, Nancy had opened the door and stepped outside. The garden appeared deserted, but to make doubly sure of this the girl circled the house. Turning a corner, she stopped short. A ladder leaned against the building. Directly above it the window to Carson Drew’s study had been pushed up.
“Some thief has climbed there to search Dad’s den!” Nancy thought in alarm.
Quick as a flash she darted forward and moved the ladder away from the window. Then she ran into the house to tell Hannah of her discovery.
“The thief must be hiding upstairs this very minute!” she whispered excitedly. “You guard the stairway while I call the police.”
Nancy hurried to the telephone, but when she held the receiver to her ear there was no sound. The phone seemed dead. She clicked the receiver several times. Still there was no answer.
“The wires have been cut!” Nancy thought.
She ran back to the stairway where Hannah stood grimly on guard. The housekeeper had armed herself with one of Carson Drew’s golf clubs.
“I can’t reach the police,” Nancy whispered.
Together the two tiptoed up the stairway, pausing on the landing to listen. They could hear no sound.
“I think he must be in the study,” Nancy decided. “At least that’s where he entered.”
Cautiously they moved down the hallway and peered into Carson Drew’s den. Nancy snapped on the light. The room was empty.
They saw at a glance that the lawyer’s desk had been examined, for papers were strewn over the floor. Nancy did not take time to see if anything were missing. Instead, she ran to the closet and jerked it open. No one was inside.
“The fellow must be somewhere in the house,” she insisted in bewilderment.
For the next few minutes Hannah and Nancy searched diligently, but they found no trace of the mysterious intruder.