The Clue in the Diary

by Carolyn Keene

  A half hour passed, then an hour. The girls were startled several times as twigs crackled or dead limbs of trees crashed in the breeze.

  “The bugs have nearly eaten me up,” Bess complained, “and my back feels as though it were broken.”

  “You’ll become paralyzed after another hour or so.” Nancy grinned.

  “How long do you propose staying here?” George demanded. “It must be almost midnight now.”

  “It isn’t ten o’clock yet.” Nancy laughed.

  “Well, I don’t think Mr. Raybolt is coming or he’d have been here by this time,” Bess said sleepily. “Why don’t we go home?”

  “I want to stay a while longer,” Nancy returned quietly.

  Again the girls became silent. Bess and George, having accustomed themselves to their hiding place, stretched out and left Nancy to keep watch. They were no longer nervous or afraid—only weary of an adventure which had gone stale.

  Presently George became very quiet and then fell asleep. Bess’s eyes closed, too, and soon she was in a deep sleep.

  How long the cousins slept, they had no idea. But suddenly they were awakened by a scream, and the sound of running feet on the driveway.

  “Nancy!” cried George, jumping up. “What has happened?”

  There was no answer.

  “Nancy!” called Bess, grabbing George by the arm.

  Still there was no answer, and the two girls realized that their friend was no longer with them. Where was she? Who had screamed? Who was coming up the road in such haste?

  CHAPTER XX

  A Surprising Victory

  WHILE the cousins had been asleep, Nancy had taken matters into her own hands. Her mind had been too active for her to feel sleepy. As she watched, first the woods, then the driveway, then the burned house, she suddenly became aware of footsteps.

  “Maybe that’s Ned,” she thought hopefully.

  The masculine figure was still too far away for Nancy to be able to discern who it could be. While she waited with bated breath, the man paused. She was about to awaken Bess and George when it occurred to her that they might speak aloud and warn the oncoming figure of their presence.

  As the man turned toward the burned house, Nancy was in a quandary. She did not dare rouse her friends, yet she wanted to follow the intruder. She must find out who he was—Ned, come to help her, an inquisitive neighbor, or Felix Raybolt.

  Leaving her friends, Nancy began to follow the man. Stealthily she crept nearer the ruins, dodging from tree to tree. She was glad there was no moon, for the darkness afforded protection.

  When she was only a few feet away from the man, Nancy paused. He turned on a flashlight. This was not Ned Nickerson. From descriptions of the estate owner and from numerous newspaper photographs of him, Nancy felt certain that the tall, thin figure must be Felix Raybolt! He was carrying a shovel.

  Suddenly he scrambled over the rubble and began to dig vigorously in the cellar wall some distance from where Nancy had been working.

  “So that’s where the secret hiding place is,” thought the young detective.

  She watched excitedly as Mr. Raybolt uncovered a group of stones in the foundation wall. He removed them, opened the door of a safe beyond, and pulled out a stack of papers. To Nancy’s horror, he laid them down and set a match to the sheaf.

  “It’s evidence against him!” Nancy said to herself. “He can’t destroy it!”

  Instantly Nancy sprang forward. She grabbed the shovel and beat out the flames. At the same time she cried, “Mr. Felix Raybolt, you can’t burn those papers!”

  The man had started violently and staggered backward. Nancy caught him by the arm, saying, “Why have you been hiding?”

  Almost at once, Mr. Raybolt recovered from the shock of the unexpected encounter, and jerked himself free. For an instant he looked at Nancy in blank amazement.

  “A snooper, eh?” he sneered.

  Without warning he grabbed both his flashlight and her own. He turned and started to run across the grounds. “Get out of my way! Mind your own business!” he warned.

  Nancy darted after him, but he definitely had the advantage of being familiar with the area. Her only chance to capture him lay in the possibility of his turning toward the place where she had left Bess and George. She must arouse them. Nancy did not know what Raybolt might do if she made an outcry, but she had to take that chance.

  “Help! Help!” she screamed.

  Bess and George, having heard the shrill cries for help, and approaching footsteps, were now convinced Nancy had uttered the cries and that she was in danger.

  “Oh, what shall we do?” asked Bess. “The screams seemed to come from near the ruins.”

  “Sh!” George warned. “Those footsteps coming up the driveway! Maybe it’s someone who can help us!”

  This remark electrified Bess, who turned on her flash and rushed frantically ahead. She was the first to reach two men running up the driveway.

  “Mr. Drew! Ned Nickerson!” the cousins cried in relief.

  “Where’s Nancy?” the men asked together.

  “We don’t know,” Bess gasped. “We heard her scream—over by the ruins.”

  The men dashed past the girls, Ned in the lead. Bess and George started after them.

  “Help! Help!” came Nancy’s scream again, but this time it was nearer.

  Suddenly a man’s figure burst from a clump of shrubs at the bend in the driveway. He saw the approaching group too late to stop. He could not turn, for Nancy appeared directly behind him. He veered off to the lawn.

  “Hold on there!” Mr. Drew commanded sharply.

  “Dad!” Nancy cried out, and an instant later she recognized the second figure. “Ned!”

  Felix Raybolt was easily captured. The appearance of the two men convinced the estate owner that his game was up, and he made little protest as they led him to Carson Drew’s sedan.

  “Nancy, you girls had better come with us,” Mr. Drew suggested. “You can return and pick up your car later.” They agreed readily.

  “Where are you taking me?” Raybolt muttered, as he got into the sedan.

  “To jail,” Mr. Drew told him tersely.

  “To jail?” the prisoner shrieked. “I haven’t done anything!”

  “Maybe not, but an innocent man is being held there in connection with your disappearance. You must exonerate Joe Swenson at once from having had anything to do with your absence or with the fire.”

  “Swenson?” echoed the captured man. “He—”

  Raybolt broke off and slumped down in the seat. He looked sick and beaten. His face was grimy and unshaven, and his clothing torn and stained.

  “How in the world did you and Dad get here at the psychological moment?” Nancy asked Ned.

  “Well—I’d been gone from home since morning,” Ned explained. “This evening I drove to River Heights to see you. Mrs. Gruen told me you had gone to Mapleton and said she thought I was with you. I telephoned Mother from your house and she gave me your message.”

  Mr. Drew added, “I returned home just as Ned was leaving. When I heard what you were doing I decided I’d better come along.”

  At the jail Foxy Felix did not even appear to be flustered about the situation. When questioned by the officials, he admitted that he had had an appointment with Joe Swenson but said that he had been outside the house at the time of the explosion.

  “Isn’t it true that you had explosives illegally stored in your cellar?” Nancy asked him.

  Raybolt nodded. He claimed the explosion and fire had been accidental. When asked about his disappearance, he gave an evasive explanation. He said that he had been stunned at first, then had staggered off into the woods.

  “And vanished,” said Carson Drew. “You carry heavy life and fire insurance, I presume, Mr. Raybolt. Your wife could have collected the money, and met you later in some faraway place.”

  The telltale flush on Raybolt’s face told the lawyer that Nancy’s and his supposition had prob
ably hit its mark, but Raybolt confessed nothing. They judged that Mapleton had become too unfriendly a place for Foxy Felix. His enemies were numerous, and he no doubt lived in constant fear of physical harm. The fire had given him an opportunity to slip away quietly.

  “Guess we can’t hold him,” the captain told the Drews. “This clears Swenson beyond a doubt. Sorry we arrested him, Miss Drew, but you must admit the evidence pointed his way.”

  Joe Swenson was brought into the room. He was overjoyed about being freed, and at first could scarcely believe the good news. Tears came to his eyes as he thanked Nancy and her friends for all they had done.

  “It’s a shame that Felix Raybolt can’t be held,” Nancy said. “Isn’t there any charge to keep him here?”

  “I’m afraid not,” her father returned. “Everyone knows the man has swindled people, including my client, but we have no proof. We need papers, letters—”

  Suddenly Nancy grabbed her father’s arm. “I may be able to produce them!” she said excitedly, and told about the papers which Raybolt had tried to burn but she had managed to save.

  “Excellent,” said Mr. Drew, as Bess, George, and Ned gasped in astonishment. “We’ll go out there at once with an officer if Captain Johnson agrees.”

  The captain called a lieutenant and said that the man would accompany them to the burned estate. Mr. Raybolt, he added, would have to remain at headquarters to await the arrival of the papers.

  The others hurried outside and drove off in a squad car. When they reached the ruins, Nancy pointed out the exact location of the safe. The police lieutenant quickly gathered up the records that Raybolt had started to burn, also some papers which the officer found in the safe. When the Drews and their friends reached headquarters, they were amazed to find that Mrs. Raybolt had arrived. She was admonishing her husband not to admit anything.

  Captain Johnson handed the papers to Mr. Drew. “Please look at these,” he requested. “If they have any bearing on this case—”

  Felix Raybolt jumped from his chair. “Don’t read them! I admit I paid small sums to inventors and promised royalties I never sent, though I sold their ideas for large amounts. I’ll give restitution to every one of them!”

  “Felix! Felix!” his wife screamed. “Don’t give in!” She glared at Nancy. “Oh—look at all the trouble you’ve caused!”

  Raybolt appeared not to hear her. “I’ll pay everyone even if it takes my last cent! I’ll do anything if only you won’t send me to prison!”

  “Don’t do it! Don’t do it!” Mrs. Raybolt pleaded. ‘We’ll be ruined!”

  “We’ll be ruined if I don’t,” her husband muttered, “because I’ll have to go to jail.”

  Mrs. Raybolt sank into a chair, covered her face with her hands, and began to sob. For an instant Nancy felt sorry for her, then changed her mind, as the woman burst out:

  “We had the whole thing so well planned. No loopholes. Then this Nancy Drew has to come along and spoil our lives.”

  Nancy, her father, their friends, and the police captain looked at Mrs. Raybolt in astonishment. The officer leaned forward and asked, “Are you admitting that you and your husband planned this whole unscrupulous plot?”

  “Keep quiet!” Raybolt stormed.

  But the damage had been done. Little by little a full confession was obtained from the husband and wife about the plot they had devised to pile up a fortune from insurance, then vanish.

  Raybolt finally admitted that he had rigged up a television set on the first floor to trigger the explosion by remote control. He had planned that it would go off when Joe Swenson arrived for the appointment.

  “But Swenson was twenty minutes early,” Mr. Raybolt growled, “so I had to go ahead and cause the explosion without getting the papers out of the safe. I knew I could come back later for them.”

  Further questioning proved that Mrs. Raybolt was responsible for having the two detectives track down the inventor and put the blame on him.

  At the end of the session, everyone in the room showed complete disgust for the Raybolts.

  “All their conniving at the expense of other people,” Nancy thought.

  Both the Raybolts were held. They were allowed to telephone for legal counsel, but even before the lawyer arrived, the husband asked for a checkbook from Mrs. Raybolt’s purse and wrote out a check for several thousand dollars to the order of Joe Swenson.

  “If you’ll look among those papers Nancy Drew saved,” the estate owner said, “you’ll find one that’s a receipt for the sale of his invention to the Streeter Corporation.”

  Mr. Drew looked at the receipt and commented that the amount of the check was five hundred dollars less than the sum on the receipt.

  “I received five hundred from Mr. Raybolt in cash,” Joe Swenson spoke up. Then, without smiling, he added, “Thank you, Mr. Raybolt, for this check.”

  Mr. Drew, meanwhile, had continued looking through the papers Nancy had rescued. He frowned angrily, but said nothing until he came to a bulging envelope which he opened.

  “These are the plans stolen from my client, Mr. Simpson,” he remarked. “I will take them, Mr. Raybolt. And, Captain Johnson, I think you had better keep the rest of these papers to see that the other inventors are properly reimbursed.”

  “I’ll certainly see that they are,” the officer declared.

  All the visitors but the Raybolts left headquarters. Ned offered to take the still-stunned Joe Swenson home in order to break the good news to his wife. Honey, of course, would be asleep.

  “Suppose you come to dinner at our house tomorrow for a victory celebration, all of you,” Nancy invited. “Ned, could you—”

  “Yes, I’ll gladly drive the Swensons over,” he said.

  Bess chortled, “We wouldn’t miss it for the world!” and George nodded vigorously.

  The following day was an exceedingly happy one at the Drew home. The Swensons wore broad grins, and Honey’s mother said, “We owe all our happiness to you, Nancy.”

  “I think you owe it to the fact that your husband dropped the diary,” Nancy said, smiling.

  “Yes,” said George. “If it hadn’t been for the clue Nancy found in it, she never could have located the owner and helped bring you all together.”

  As the gala dinner ended, Mr. Swenson mentioned that Baylor Weston was promoting him to a responsible position in the experimental division of the factory at a large salary.

  “That’s marvelous,” said Nancy.

  “You have been so kind to us,” Mrs. Swenson spoke up, “that we want to show our appreciation in a more material way.”

  She presented each of the girls with a tissue-wrapped package. “It isn’t much,” she said apologetically.

  “Indeed it is!” Nancy cried, unwrapping a beautiful purse.

  As she opened it, the girl detective found a note inside. The message read: “Will you please keep my signet ring to remind you of your adventure and of our deep gratitude for all you have done for us. Joe Swenson.”

  “I’d love to, of course,” Nancy said, a little catch in her throat. “The ring has meant a great deal to you. Now it will to me.”

  Bess and George likewise received purses and Ned a wallet. They thanked the donors heartily. A short time later the inventor and his family left, after promising to call frequently on Nancy and her father.

  The young detective felt a glow of pleasure as always when she made lasting friends of people she had helped. But she did not know in what strange way this would occur soon again. Much to her amazement, in her next adventure, Nancy’s Mysterious Letter, she was to help someone with a name like her own who was in great trouble.

  “It really was a gorgeous party!” Bess sighed blissfully. “Such fun!”

  “Say,” said Ned, “I have a notion to start a diary of my own!”

  “Why don’t you?” Nancy asked lightly.

  She became conscious that Ned’s eyes were looking straight at her. “I will if I can fill most of the pages with entri
es of dates with you.”

  Nancy evaded the question. “I enjoyed your help in solving the Swenson mystery. Maybe we’ll soon find another one we can work on together.”