The Moonstone Castle Mystery

by Carolyn Keene

  “All the same, I’ll bet the owner doesn’t know he’s staying there and would thank us for finding it out,” George defended herself. “And how about Mr. Seaman’s being here, his wanting to give you something and the moonstone sent to you? Maybe all these have some connection with Moonstone Castle.”

  Nancy nodded. “Could be.”

  She said she would leave the bridge wired down, hoping no one would raise it. “If your hunch about the castle being used as a secret headquarters is right, then we should get help and really investigate the place.”

  “You mean the police?” George asked.

  “I was just thinking,” Nancy replied, “that instead of contacting the police, we might try to get Ned and Burt and Dave to go with us.”

  Burt Eddleton and Dave Evans were college friends of Ned, now camp counselors at Sylvan Lake near River Heights. Dave dated Bess, and Burt enjoyed taking George to parties.

  “Great,” said George. “And if the bridge is up and we can’t get to the castle by car, we’ll rent a boat.”

  When Bess heard the story of the girls’ adventure and Nancy’s suggestion, she smiled but said, “You certainly took a chance, Nancy. I’m glad you didn’t go any farther. As for asking the boys to go sleuthing with us, I’m all for it—a lot more fun than taking the police!”

  Nancy put in a call to Ned, who was delighted to hear from her. “I haven’t had a letter in ages,” he complained. “But this is even better.”

  Quickly Nancy told of her idea and said that Bess and George were keen about it. “Can you come?”

  “Well, speaking for myself, try to keep me away!” Ned replied. “Hold the phone and I’ll ask Burt and Dave. We all have a weekend off coming.” He came back in a few minutes and said that the boys had accepted the invitation with alacrity and the three would arrive at Long View late the following afternoon.

  Bess, when told of the arrangements, said, her dimples showing, “It’s a good thing Alan is leaving tomorrow. I hate complications!”

  She insisted that the other girls meet Alan, so they walked over to the swimming pool where she had left him a short time before. She introduced Alan, a tanned, good-looking boy. After a few moments’ conversation, he said: “I’d like to invite all you girls to a picnic this evening. It’s my Grandmother’s birthday. She lives here in Deep River. That’s why my family came up. There are so many of us we can’t stay at her house. On Grandmother’s birthday the whole family gathers to celebrate it.”

  Alan explained that the outdoor picnic was to be held at his grandmother’s house and gave the girls the address. “Tonight’s the big night,” he said. “Will you three come and help us pay homage?”

  At first the girls demurred, saying that they were total strangers to Mrs. Ryder, but Alan was insistent. “The more people who come, the better she likes it. Half the town will be there.”

  Finally the girls accepted. Nancy said she would drive her own car so the girls would be free to leave without taking Alan away from the celebration.

  “But I would like to come for Bess,” he said, and she quickly accepted.

  All the girls went swimming, then dressed for the picnic. When they were ready to leave, Nancy said, “Bess, we’ll follow you and Alan since we don’t know the way.”

  When Alan arrived, they all went over to the parking lot. Nancy had left the convertible near a planting of rhododendron bushes, but to her surprise, it was not there. She glanced at all the automobiles in the parking area. Hers was not among them.

  “My car’s gone!” she cried out.

  “What! Why, Nancy, you left it right here not two hours ago!” George exclaimed.

  “Someone has stolen it!” Bess said fearfully.

  Nancy hurried back inside the motel and phoned police headquarters. She gave a description of the car and the license number to the sergeant on duty. He said he would send out a radio alarm at once.

  “And will you do something else for me?” Nancy asked. “I’d like to know who the owner is of the car with the following license number.” She gave the one George had seen on the sedan in which Mr. Seaman had driven off.

  Alan said he felt very sorry for Nancy and would like to help. “We’re early for the picnic. Suppose I drive you around town to see if we can spot your car. Maybe it wasn’t really stolen—just borrowed.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Nancy. “I didn’t leave the keys in the ignition and only a car thief would have taken it.”

  Although the young people rode all over Deep River, they failed to find any trace of the missing convertible. When they finally stopped at police headquarters, Nancy was told that there was no report yet on her car.

  “But someone,” said the sergeant, “saw a convertible like yours being driven out of town by a woman.”

  As Nancy pondered this startling information, the sergeant said, “By the way, the owner of the car you asked about is Ralph Seaman. He lives at 24 Willow Road.”

  “Thank you very much,” said Nancy.

  By this time Nancy had lost all her enthusiasm for Grandmother Ryder’s picnic. But she did not want to seem like a poor sport and accompanied the others. They congratulated the attractive, elderly woman and thanked her for letting them come. Then the young people moved away.

  “Did you ever see so much food in your life?” asked Bess as she stared at several long tables filled with all kinds of tasty dishes.

  “I’d call this a banquet!” George declared.

  Alan and the girls wandered over to it. He handed a plate to each of them from a huge stack at the end of one table and motioned for them to select food. As Nancy was about to put a spoonful of chicken salad onto her plate, someone tapped her arm and she turned.

  “Mr. Wheeler!” she said. “How do you do?”

  “May I speak to you a minute privately, Miss Drew?” he asked.

  Nancy handed her plate to Bess, requesting her to fill it, then walked off with the lawyer.

  “I promise not to keep you long,” said Mr. Wheeler. “You know you’ve set me thinking about the Horton case.”

  Mr. Wheeler said he had been doing a good bit of reminiscing. He had begun to wonder about the whole thing himself.

  “Something that occurred years ago was recalled to my mind,” he said. “I’d like you to go with me to call on a man across the river. I believe he might shed some light on the mystery.”

  Nancy hesitated, then said, “When do you want to go?”

  “As soon as we can get away from this party, ” the lawyer replied.

  “How will we go?” Nancy asked.

  “I have a motorboat. It’s moored not far from here.”

  “I’ll bring one of my friends with me,” said Nancy. “Suppose I meet you over by the musicians.” She had just noticed them coming in and taking their places near a lovely rose garden.

  “All right. Nine o’clock.”

  Nancy joined her friends and whispered her plans to Bess and George. Bess said she would like to stay with Alan—it might be best not to tell him about the mystery. George eagerly offered to go.

  Promptly at nine o’clock the two girls met Mr. Wheeler, who led the way down a path and along the waterfront to a boathouse. He unlocked the entrance door and they all climbed into a sleek motorboat. Mr. Wheeler leaned toward the wall, pressed a button, and the big front door rolled up. The lawyer turned on the motor and whizzed from the boathouse.

  “He’s a fast pilot!” George whispered to Nancy as the boat raced across the river.

  They reached the other side and Mr. Wheeler spun the wheel, turning the boat sharply to starboard. The girls looked at each other. Although they did not know the river, both felt that in the dark they were much too close to shore for safety.

  Mr. Wheeler put on more power. George whispered, “For an old man, he’s a speed demon!”

  Nancy was frightened. She was just about to ask the lawyer to go farther out from the shore when there was a terrific crash. The boat spun around and its passenger
s were knocked helter-skelter!

  CHAPTER VIII

  The Canoeists’ Clue

  IT was a full half minute before Nancy and George collected their wits. They had been badly shaken by the boat crash. Since no other craft was around, they assumed their motorboat had hit a rock.

  “Nancy!” George cried out. “The boat’s filling with water!”

  “Yes, and Mr. Wheeler’s unconscious!”

  The girls realized it was futile to try to plug the hole in the boat. They must swim to shore and take Mr. Wheeler with them. At this part of the river the bank was very dark. It was tree-lined and impossible for the girls to tell how deep the water was.

  Before going over the side, they tried to revive Mr. Wheeler. It was hopeless. By this time the water on the floor of the tilted motorboat was six inches deep.

  “I’ll see how far it is to the bottom here,” Nancy offered. She eased herself into the water and disappeared. When she surfaced, she said, “It’s over our heads. George, see if there’s a flashlight in the boat’s compartment.”

  George yanked open the door. “Yes, there is,” she replied.

  Nancy asked George if she would please hold it and light the way to shore. She would support Mr. Wheeler.

  “Can you ease him over the side and lay him on his back?” Nancy asked.

  “I’ll try.” George soon had him in the water.

  Nancy tucked one arm around Mr. Wheeler’s neck to keep him afloat and held him up while she swam with her free arm. George stayed close beside her, holding the strong beam of the flashlight on the bank ahead.

  Fortunately, they were close enough to the shore so the swim was not too arduous. They reached it safely and carried the unconscious figure to a flat, open area, where they again tried to revive him. It was useless.

  George and Nancy peered into the dark night, hoping to see lights from a house. But neither girl saw any.

  “I guess we’ll have to yell for help!” Nancy said.

  She began calling, but there was no response. George took up the cry, and the two friends thought their shouts would surely rouse Mr. Wheeler. But he lay still on the grass.

  “I’ll SOS with the flashlight,” Nancy said finally. “Maybe somebody will pick it up.”

  She began—three dots, three dashes, followed by three dots. After waiting several seconds the young sleuth repeated the distress signal.

  Suddenly the girls heard a hello from the water. “You in trouble?” a man’s voice called.

  “Yes. Our boat cracked up. We’re here on shore with an injured man.”

  “I’ll be right there,” the stranger promised.

  Within a few minutes a canoe pulled up to the shore. In it were a couple, who jumped out at once.

  The young man went over to Mr. Wheeler, got down on one knee, and felt the man’s pulse.

  Meanwhile, the girl said, “We’re Amy Cadmus and Art Munson. Art’s a medical student.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” said George, and introduced herself and Nancy.

  Art quickly examined Mr. Wheeler, then said, “We must get this man to the Deep River Hospital immediately.”

  “Is there a road near here?” Nancy asked.

  “No, there isn’t. This area is almost a wilderness. I’ll be glad to take the man to the hospital in our canoe. Amy, suppose you come with me. Later, I’ll return for you girls. For Pete’s sake, you’re shivering.”

  “Well, we’re soaking wet,” George said. “And of course Mr. Wheeler is, too.”

  “He’s John Wheeler, a retired lawyer of Deep River,” said Nancy.

  “Oh, really?” said Amy. “I know him.”

  In Art’s well-equipped canoe were two raincoats and a large tarpaulin. He handed a raincoat to each of the soaking-wet girls. Mr. Wheeler was laid in the canoe and the tarpaulin placed over him.

  The canoeists paddled off, making fast time across the river. Nevertheless, for Nancy and George the wait seemed interminable. At last, however, Art reappeared.

  As Nancy and George climbed into the canoe, Art said, “I called an ambulance as soon as we reached the other side. Amy said she would stay there and tell the intern what happened and who Mr. Wheeler is.”

  “Do you think he’s going to be all right?” Nancy asked.

  “It’s hard to say,” the young medical student replied. “He hadn’t regained consciousness when I left him.”

  George offered to take the extra paddle and it was not long before they reached town. Amy was waiting for them on the dock. She said the ambulance had come and gone. Mr. Wheeler still was unconscious.

  “Where are you girls staying?” she asked.

  “At the Long View Motel,” Nancy replied.

  Art said he had a car nearby and offered to drive the girls home. Grinning, he added, “Doctor Munson orders hot baths and a good night’s sleep.”

  Nancy and George laughed and said they would certainly obey his orders.

  As they headed for the motel, Amy said to George, “How do you happen to have a boy’s name, or isn’t George your real name?”

  George smiled. “It’s my real name all right. According to the story, my parents were so sure I was going to be a boy, they had picked out only the name George, so they decided to give it to me, anyway.”

  “I like it,” said Amy. “Unusual names intrigue me. My sister, who is eighteen, has a friend whose name I love. It’s Jodine.”

  “That is unusual,” Nancy agreed. “Is she called that?”

  “No, which I think is a shame. She’s called Jody.” Amy went on to say that Jody was a wonderful girl. “I wish you could meet her while you’re here. Her last name is Armstrong and she lives on Birchwood Lane—that’s the street alongside the high school. She has had the name Armstrong only since she was about three or four years old, when she was adopted.”

  Nancy and George, interested at once, glanced at each other. Had they picked up a clue to Joanie Horton? Trying to sound nonchalant, Nancy asked, “Was Jody adopted here in Deep River?”

  “Her present parents got her from an adoption society in the next town, I believe.”

  “I’d love to meet her,” said Nancy. “While we’re here, could you introduce us?”

  Amy said unfortunately both she and her sister were going out of town early the next morning on a vacation. “But Jody would love to meet you just the same. Tell her you saw me and that I suggested you girls get together.”

  Nancy was delighted with the information. She would certainly look up Jody Armstrong!

  By this time the car had reached the motel. Nancy and George thanked Art and Amy for their kindness in taking care of Mr. Wheeler and for rescuing them.

  “I’m sorry we won’t see you again,” said Nancy. “Have a marvelous time on your vacation.”

  “I’m sure we will,” said Amy. “Too bad that Art won’t be around here. This is the last day of his vacation. He’s going back to medical school in New York City tomorrow.”

  Nancy and George returned the raincoats to their kind donors, then walked into the motel lobby.

  Bess Marvin ran toward them. “My goodness, what happened to you? You’re all wet!”

  Mrs. Thompson, who had risen from a chair, now reached the bedraggled girls. “Bess and I have been dreadfully worried about you.”

  Quickly Nancy and George told what had happened. Mrs. Thompson insisted that they follow Art Munson’s advice. “As soon as you’re in bed, I’ll bring you some hot cocoa and cookies.”

  “It would taste mighty good, I admit,” said Nancy.

  Bess offered to help Mrs. Thompson and went to her private kitchen. When the cocoa and cookies were ready, Bess carried them to the girls’ room. While Nancy and George sat up in bed, sipping the hot, soothing cocoa, they told Bess about Jody Armstrong.

  At once Bess had the same thought as Nancy and George. “Do you think Jody Armstrong is really Joanie Horton?” she asked excitedly.

  “Let’s go to see her tomorrow!” Nancy said.

/>   CHAPTER IX

  The Vanishing Patient

  EXCITED by the sleuthing ahead of them, Nancy, Bess, and George arose early the following morning. Since the weather bureau predicted a hot day, the girls put on lightweight cotton dresses.

  “I wish I felt as cool as I look,” said Bess, staring at herself in the mirror. “I think we’re hot on the trail of something and it makes me even hotter to think about it!”

  Nancy and Bess laughed, and George remarked, “I hope the only cooling-off swim I have today will not be in the moat but in the mot-el pool!”

  Bess’s reaction to the pun was to throw a pillow at her cousin. Still laughing, Nancy went to the motel lobby and phoned for a taxi to take them to the diner for breakfast. When they finished eating, Nancy said she wanted to make two phone calls—one to the hospital and the other to police headquarters.

  “To find out about Mr. Wheeler and about your car?” Bess asked. Nancy nodded.

  The hospital wires were busy, so Nancy called police headquarters. She learned that there was no word yet of her car. With a sigh she again dialed the hospital, only to get a busy signal.

  “I’ll stop there later,” the young sleuth said to herself.

  She came back to her friends and reported her findings. Then she said, “It’s rather early to call on the Armstrongs. I have a suggestion. Let’s find out how far it is to Willow Road. We might walk there, instead of calling a taxi, and take a look at Mr. Seaman’s house.”

  “Why don’t we call on him?” George suggested.

  “Let’s decide what to do when we get there.”

  Nancy found out from the waitress that Willow Road was only about a half mile away. The girls decided to walk. They set out at a brisk pace.

  On the way Bess brought up the subject of Nancy’s mysterious gift of a moonstone. “Do you realize we have never had one single clue to explain that?”

  “I know,” said Nancy. “But I feel that sooner or later the donor is going to give himself or herself away.”

  George began to tease Nancy once more about the mysterious person being an admirer. She said, “Wait until Ned gets here. You probably can trap him into confessing.”