Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgements
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I - An Urgent Request
CHAPTER II - Heath Castle
CHAPTER III - A Runaway Boat
CHAPTER IV - The Haunted Walk
CHAPTER V - Suspicious Figures
CHAPTER VI - A Mysterious Explosion
CHAPTER VII - A Puzzling Message
CHAPTER VIII - Locked In!
CHAPTER IX - Trap Door
CHAPTER X - In Search of a Clue
CHAPTER XI - A Warning
CHAPTER XII - Secret Entrance
CHAPTER XIII - Treasure!
CHAPTER XIV - Cinderella’s Slipper
CHAPTER XV - Salty’s Plight
CHAPTER XVI - News of Juliana
CHAPTER XVII - Kidnapped!
CHAPTER XVIII - Tower Trouble
CHAPTER XIX - Release and Capture
CHAPTER XX - A Last Surprise
THE CLUE IN THE CRUMBLING WALL
When Nancy is asked to find a professional dancer who disappeared several years before, the young detective becomes involved in a mystery reaching far beyond a missing-person’s case.
Clues lead to a huge estate which the dancer is to inherit if she can claim it in time. During Nancy’s investigation at Heath Castle, she and her friends Bess Marvin and George Fayne realize that its crumbling walls contain a secret, but what is it? And who are their enemies that try to foil their every attempt to unravel the intricate puzzle?
Danger lurks in a castle tower and throughout the vine-tangled grounds of the estate. The girls’ gripping adventures culminate in a dramatic climax when Nancy exposes a sinister plot to defraud the dancer of her inheritance.
“We must get out of here!” said Nancy.
Acknowledgement is made to Mildred Wirt Benson, who under the pen name
Carolyn Keene, wrote the original NANCY DREW books
Copyright © 1973, 1945, by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.
Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam & Grosset Group,
New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A.
NANCY DREW MYSTERY STORIES® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster,
Inc. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
eISBN : 978-1-101-07723-8
http://us.penguingroup.com
CHAPTER I
An Urgent Request
“HURRY, Nancy!” Hannah Gruen called anxiously. The Drews’ housekeeper held the front door open as jagged lightning cut the sky.
Nancy raced madly toward the door, her reddish-blond hair flying in the wind. “Made it!” she gasped, laughing, as great drops of rain pelted the driveway.
The attractive, eighteen-year-old girl stepped into the hall and stopped in surprise. Behind Hannah stood a slender young policewoman in a blue uniform.
“This is Lieutenant Masters, dear,” said Hannah. “She arrived just before your car turned into the driveway.”
“I can’t stay long, Nancy,” the officer said, “so I’ll come right to the point. Will you help solve a mystery?” The woman’s dark eyes gazed into Nancy’s steadily. “I’m sure you can do it.”
Nancy was amazed, but merely said, “I’d like to hear about it. Won’t you come in and sit down?” She led the officer into the living room.
Nancy’s zest for adventure came to her naturally from her father, Carson Drew, a well-known lawyer. While helping him, she had solved her first case, The Secret of the Old Clock. Since then she had been successful in finding the solutions to several mysteries, the most recent one The Secret in the Old Attic. By now Nancy had an outstanding reputation, even with the police, as an amateur sleuth.
“Chief McGinnis recommended that I ask you,” Lieutenant Masters said, seating herself on the sofa. “He told me you have great insight into character.” The trim, dark-haired officer explained that she had just joined the River Heights Police Department. “This case is related to one of mine. I’m in charge of juvenile offenders.”
“Then your mystery involves a child?”
“Yes. A pretty little eight-year-old girl named Joan Fenimore. She’s been in trouble with the law and will be in more, I’m afraid, unless we can find her aunt. Nancy, have you ever heard of Juliana Johnson?”
“She was a dancer, wasn’t she?” Nancy asked.
“Yes. She disappeared ten years ago at the height of her career.”
“And she’s Joan’s aunt?”
“Yes. Juliana must be found within the next three weeks or lose an inheritance that a friend willed to her. If we can find her, surely she’ll help Joan and her mother and make a new way of life for Joan.”
“Three weeks!” Nancy repeated. “That means I haven’t a moment to lose!”
The lieutenant’s grave face broke into a smile. “Then you’ll take the case?” she said. “I’m so glad!” She glanced at her watch and rose quickly. “I must go now. The rain has stopped. I was on a call in this neighborhood and decided to drop by on the chance you were at home. Could you meet me at headquarters about three o’clock this afternoon?”
“Certainly,” Nancy replied.
“Fine! I’ll tell you all about it then, and we’ll go see Joan and her mother. By the way,” she added when they reached the door, “do you know Heath Castle, a big estate some miles outside of town?”
“Yes, I do,” Nancy said. “I’ve seen it from the river. It’s that spooky-looking place with those stone towers and the high walls around it.”
“Find out all you can about the place,” Lieutenant Masters said. “It’s Juliana’s inheritance. And thank you, Nancy. Little Joan really needs your help!”
After the policewoman had left, Nancy went to the kitchen and told Hannah about the mystery .
“Now you’re happy!” the kindly, middle-aged woman said fondly. “You have a new case! I just hope it won’t be dangerous.” Mrs. Gruen had been with the family since the death of Mrs. Drew when Nancy was three years old. The warm-hearted housekeeper had always been like a mother to the girL
“What do you know about Heath Castle?” Nancy asked her.
“Not much. It was built—”
“Hannah!” Nancy exclaimed. She was facing the window. “Look—in the yard!”
“What is it?” the housekeeper asked, peering through the glass. “Oh, what a shame!” she cried out. “All the hollyhocks are snapped off in the middle and the daisies are flattened into the mud from the rain!”
“That’s not what I mean,” said Nancy. “Look at the flower border where my new rosebushes were.”
“Why, they’re gone!” said Hannah. She stared in amazement at two holes filled with rain water.
“The bushes were dug up,” said Nancy, “and stolen!”
“Probably by the same thief who took plants from some of our neighbors,” Hannah remarked. “There’s been a rash of these thefts lately.”
“I’ll report it when I go to headquarters this afternoon,” Nancy said.
While she set the table and heated soup, Hannah made sandwiches. By the time the two had finished their lunch, the ground had dried a little and the sun was out.
They hurried into the back yard to inspect the damage. Except for the rosebushes, no plants were missing. Nancy could not find any clues to the thief. She and Hannah began cleaning up debris from the storm. Suddenly they heard the familiar song of one of River Heights’ well-known eccentric characters.
“Here comes my old friend Salty down the street!” Nancy laughed, shaking off her somber mood.
The good-natured, elderly man, once a sailor, had received his nickname from N
ancy when she was a little girl. He had introduced himself to the Drew household as Boatswain Bostwick Bumpleton, “home from the salty seas.”
Nancy had tried to say his whole name but sometimes mixed it up. Once she addressed him as Bumple Boat and another time as Humpty Dumpty Bumpleton, much to his amusement. Finally the little girl settled on Salty and her nickname stuck to him.
The man’s cart bell tinkled merrily, and a moment later the jolly, weather-beaten sailor wheeled his wagon around the corner of the driveway. Spying Nancy and Hannah, he sang again:“Clams by the bushel,
Clams by the lot,
Clams for the kettle,
Clams for the pot.”
“None for us today,” Mrs. Gruen called.
Salty smiled. “Come now,” he coaxed. “Ye can’t turn down my clams. They’re nutritious, delicious, delectable, respectable! Matter of fact, ye might even find a pearl in one of ’em!”
Nancy turned to Hannah. “Don’t you think we could use a few pearly clams?” she asked with a wink.
The housekeeper gave in. “Okay, a dozen. Nancy, please get my purse.”
Nancy darted away, but soon returned with the pocketbook and a container for the clams. After the elderly sailor had left, she and Hannah took the clams into the kitchen and Nancy started to open them with a sharp knife. Soon she had a pile of empty shells, but no pearls.
“I guess these haven’t anything in them but meat! Well, here’s the last one.”
Nancy opened the clam and was about to toss away the attractive, rainbow-colored shell when a tiny object inside drew her attention.
“A pearl!” she cried, holding it out for the housekeeper to see.
Hannah stared at the small white object. “I declare, it is one,” she acknowledged, “and may be worth some money!”
“I’ll take it to Sam Weatherby,” Nancy said eagerly. She removed the pearl and washed it, then drove to Mr. Weatherby’s shop. The owner was a dealer in curios and antique jewelry.
“Ye might find a pearl in one of ’em!” Salty said.
Nancy had to wait fifteen minutes while an unpleasant man bargained with the shop owner over a piece of jewelry he wanted to sell. It was a man’s antique watch chain with an attractive gold charm. At last the customer accepted an offer, pocketed the money Mr. Weatherby paid him, and turned on his heel, remarking, “I might as well have given it to you!”
After the man had left, Mr. Weatherby said to Nancy, “That was Daniel Hector. How he loves to argue! If all my customers were like him, I’d have to close up shop. Well, what can I do for you, Nancy?”
She removed the pearl from her purse and asked the curio dealer what it was worth.
“Well, well,” he said, examining the object carefully, “it’s nice, but river pearls are not valuable.” He named a modest sum. “I’ll buy it if you’ll bring me the shell from which it was taken. I want to display the pearl with the shell.”
Nancy promised to return with the shell the next day. Then she put the pearl in her pocketbook and left the shop. She started walking the few crowded blocks to police headquarters.
As Nancy stopped to look in the window of a department store, a boy drew close to her. Then suddenly he jerked the purse from beneath her arm and fled!
CHAPTER II
Heath Castle
IT took Nancy a moment to recover from her astonishment. By the time she whirled around, the purse snatcher was already running down the street. Nancy dashed after him, but tried to avoid bumping into pedestrians.
“What’s the matter?” asked a man she side-stepped just in time to avoid a collision.
“My purse—”
He took up the chase with her. As word spread, other people followed. But the boy was running fast. Nancy caught a glimpse of him as he dashed into a narrow alley between two buildings. When she reached it, there was no sign of him.
“Well, there goes my pearl,” she thought unhappily.
Besides the pearl, her purse had contained her driver’s license, car registration, some credit cards, money, and cosmetics.
“I suppose I should be thankful I didn’t lose more,” Nancy said to herself ruefully.
She thanked the stranger who had tried to assist her, then hurried down the street to headquarters and was taken into Lieutenant Masters’ office.
After greetings were exchanged, Nancy said, “I want to report two thefts.” First she told about the boy who had snatched her purse.
“Can you describe him?” the policewoman asked.
“I didn’t get a look at his face,” said Nancy, “but I think he was about ten or twelve years old. He was stocky with tousled blond hair and wore blue jeans and a tee shirt.”
“Many boys could fit that description,” Lieutenant Masters commented. “We’ll do our best, but I doubt that you’ll get back your bag with the contents.” Then she frowned. “Did I hear you say ‘two thefts’?”
“Yes,” said Nancy, and told about the missing rosebushes.
The officer’s dark eyes gleamed with interest. “I think I can give you the answer to the second one right away,” she said. “The culprit is probably little Joan Fenimore.”
“Oh no!” Nancy said in dismay.
“Yes,” said the officer. “I told you she had been in difficulty with the law. Just before I came to see you I was checking into another report of flowers stolen from your neighborhood. The woman of the house caught a glimpse of the child and described her.
“Joan has a passionate love for flowers,” Lieutenant Masters went on, “and an amazing knowledge of them. I arranged for her to join a nature study class at the museum, but I’m afraid that my rehabilitation program backfired. Recently she has taken plants and shrubs from other homes.”
“What a shame!” Nancy said.
“Joan’s father is not living,” the young officer resumed. “Her widowed mother is ill and very poor.”
Nancy listened sympathetically as the policewoman went on, “I’ll see that Joan returns the bushes to your garden. Mrs. Fenimore will insist upon it, anyway. She’s greatly distressed by her child’s behavior.”
Lieutenant Masters stood up. “Come along,” she said. “We’ll go there now and you can hear everything firsthand.”
The two rode to the Fenimore house located in a run-down section of the city. The tiny yard was a mass of colorful flowers, however, and vines half-covered the unpainted, weather-beaten porch.
As Nancy and the officer went up the flagstone walk, the policewoman called attention to two young, newly planted rosebushes.
“Are these yours?” she asked.
“They look like the ones that were in our yard,” Nancy said. “But—”
She broke off, because a little girl in a faded pink dress had just come around the corner of the house. When the child saw the woman in uniform, she stopped short and then turned as if to run off.
“Don’t be afraid,” the lieutenant said gently.
“Did you come to take me away?” Joan asked.
“Indeed we didn’t. But we will have to send you to a special school unless you decide to be good.”
“I am good,” Joan said, tossing her tangled blond curls. “Just ask my mother!”
“In many ways you are very good. I know you work hard to take care of your mother. But why do you dig up shrubs and plants that don’t belong to you?”
Joan’s gaze roved to the telltale rosebushes. She hung her head and didn’t answer.
“I’m sure you don’t really mean to be naughty,” the policewoman continued. “Why do you take flowers?”
“Because they’re pretty,” Joan said. “We can never buy anything nice.”
The child sank down on the porch steps and began to cry. Lieutenant Masters comforted her. Soon she gained an admission from the little girl that an older boy, Teddy Hooper, who lived next door, had suggested that Joan help herself to some pretty plants.
“I don’t know why I did it.” Joan began to sob. “I wish my Aunt Juliana would
come home. I’m sure she’d buy us some nice things.”
In an undertone Lieutenant Masters explained to Nancy that Joan knew about her aunt only from her mother.
“Mrs. Fenimore wasn’t married when her sister disappeared. Come inside and let her tell you the story.”
Nancy received a distinct shock as Joan led the way into the living room. Lying on a well-worn couch was a slender woman with deep lines in her pallid face. Nancy was sure Mrs. Fenimore was not more than thirty years old, but she looked fifty.
Upon seeing the policewoman, a concerned expression appeared on Mrs. Fenimore’s face. “Has Joan done something wrong again?”
At her mother’s question, the child turned her head away. Neither Lieutenant Masters nor Nancy spoke immediately. After a brief pause, the police officer introduced the new visitor.
“I’m glad to meet you,” Mrs. Fenimore said softly.
“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” Nancy replied. “Perhaps it would be better if I came back some other time.”
“No, no.”
“I wish you’d tell Nancy Drew about your sister,” Lieutenant Masters urged. “Nancy’s a detective and will try to find out what happened to Juliana.”
“You really will?” Mrs. Fenimore looked at the girl hopefully. “You see, Julie went away by herself for a month’s rest and never was heard of again.”
“Have you any idea at all where she may have gone?” Nancy asked. “Do you think she disappeared deliberately?”
“No. I can’t believe that, and I keep telling Joan I’m sure her aunt will come home someday.”
Mrs. Fenimore explained that the dancer had been engaged to a wealthy manufacturer named Walter Heath.
“Five years after her mysterious disappearance, he died and left Heath Castle to Juliana. He tried to trace her before his death but was unsuccessful. There’s a provision in his will which stipulates that if Juliana does not claim his estate within five years, it is to be sold and the money given to charities he specified. The time is almost up.”
The Clue in the Crumbling Wall Page 1
