“I’ll go at once,” Nancy replied, excited by the new element of mystery.
She ran back to the table and told Carol that she had to go on an important errand for her father, but that she would return shortly.
As Nancy was talking, she saw the swinging door which led to the kitchen move slightly. Someone was listening.
“I think I’ll go out this way, it’s shorter,” she said abruptly, skipping across to the kitchen door and suddenly pushing it ajar. As she had expected, the door did not open far, and there was a muttered exclamation from behind it.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Did I hit somebody?” Nancy asked.
Mrs. Jemitt was revealed, looking rather dazed and rubbing her ear. “No, not much,” she said sarcastically.
The woman wheeled about, darted through the kitchen, and vanished into the garden. Nancy was at her heels, but Mr. Drew called her back.
“You were a little too fast for me.” He smiled. “I just wanted to tell you that Peter Boonton and Jacob Sidney, the two men you told me about, are coming here this morning. We want the will signed and witnessed before they arrive. That’s the reason I’m asking for the greatest possible speed.”
Nancy nodded and left the house. She saw Jemitt, who seemed to be having difficulty starting his automobile. His wife, her back to Nancy, was beside the car talking and gesticulating violently to him.
“She’s probably telling him about my errand,” Nancy thought, “so I must hurry. On the other hand, I may never have another opportunity to look at that buried box. I must find out if it belongs to Asa Sidney.”
Out of sight of the Jemitts, she ran to the barn. It took only a moment to roll away the logs in the improvised woodpile and uncover what Jemitt had buried underneath.
“If it’s what I think, I’m sure Dad would want me to take the chest to the bank,” the young sleuth told herself.
The loose dirt was easy to brush aside, and anxiety gave Nancy added strength. She saw at a glance that the chest was indeed the one with the carved twisted candles, and marked Private property of Asa Sidney. She lifted it out.
Lugging the heavy ebony and brass chest, Nancy went around the far corner of the house and climbed into her car. She started the motor, locked the doors, and sped off.
The highway ahead was clear. Nancy glanced into her rear-vision mirror to see if anyone was on the road behind. What she had feared was true. Frank Jemitt’s big car had lurched into the road and was roaring after her!
“Does he know where I’m going, and why?” she thought.
Jemitt’s car, although left behind by Nancy’s first burst of speed, began to crawl up.
“There’s no doubt about it, he’s after me,” Nancy told herself. “Either he’s going to prevent my bringing Mr. Hill, or force me to give up the stolen chest!”
CHAPTER VII
The Race
THE convertible sped along as fast as Nancy dared go. But Jemitt’s more powerful car was slowly catching up. Would he force her off the road? A second glimpse in the rear-view mirror disclosed Carol’s foster father crouched over the wheel of his car, his teeth clenched, his face red.
“If I can only reach the turn to Smith’s Ferry,” Nancy thought, “maybe I can outwit him.”
Calculating her speed and the road with precision, she pretended to pass the intersecting highway. Then, with a quick twist of the wheel she shot into the fork. The low-slung convertible hugged the road and with squealing tires made the sharp curve safely.
Nancy slowed down a moment to glance behind her. A look of relief spread over her face.
Jemitt had fallen into the trap. Nancy’s abrupt turn had caught him unawares, and he had shot ahead in the direction of River Heights. When he jammed on his brakes, the speeding car skidded off the road into a small ditch.
“Sorry, Mr. Jemitt.” Nancy grinned.
In a short time she was driving up the main street of Smith’s Ferry at a sedate pace. She found the bank without difficulty and parked, then picked up the chest and entered the building.
“I should like to speak with Mr. Hill—Mr. Raymond Hill,” Nancy told the woman receptionist.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but if you’ll tell him I’m here for Carson Drew on important business, I’m sure he’ll see me,” Nancy replied.
The woman smiled and went off. Presently she returned and ushered her into Mr. Hill’s office. The pleasant bank officer was about Carson Drew’s age.
“What can I do for your father, Nancy?” he asked. “Oh, don’t be surprised that I know your name. I am no detective, but I’ve seen your picture on your father’s office desk, so I recognized you immediately.”
Nancy smiled, then explained, “Dad would like you to witness an important document over which there may be some legal trouble. If it is convenient for you now, I’ll drive you to where Dad is waiting. It’s a matter in which minutes are precious, Mr. Hill.”
“Then I’ll come at once,” the banker replied.
“But first,” said Nancy, “I’d like to have this chest put in a safe place.”
“I’ll have it placed in the vault,” Mr. Hill said, pressing a button to summon a clerk. “I’ll give you a receipt.”
A man in a uniform appeared in response to the summons. Mr. Hill gave him the box with instructions to place it in the bank’s vault.
“You fill in this receipt,” he told Nancy, handing her a form. She wrote a brief but accurate description of the chest, and Mr. Hill signed the paper.
“Now let’s go,” he said.
He accompanied Nancy to her car and she headed it toward the Sidney mansion. Mr. Hill leaned back in the seat without speaking, although his eyes traveled nervously from time to time to the speedometer.
“Look out!” he suddenly exclaimed.
They had just reached the intersecting highway when a car pulled across it. As Nancy deftly skirted the slow-moving and mud-splattered automobile she noted that the driver was Frank Jemitt.
“He must have damaged his car when he went into that ditch,” she thought, pulling ahead.
A glance in the mirror showed Jemitt shaking both fists over his head at her retreating car. Nancy chuckled and briefly explained to Mr. Hill about the caretaker.
A few minutes later she turned into the driveway of The Sign of the Twisted Candles and swung to a stop at the porch steps.
“I’m not being kidnapped, am I?” Mr. Hill joked as he got out. “What is this place, and where is Mr. Drew?”
As if in answer to his question the lawyer stepped onto the porch and greeted the banker.
“You made excellent time,” he said to Nancy. “I scarcely expected you to have reached Smith’s Ferry yet. None of the interference we have feared has made its appearance yet.”
Mr. Hill followed the lawyer into the house. Nancy remained outside and sat down on the steps to mull over recent events. She speculated on what Jemitt would say to her when he arrived, and wished she knew what had made her father so concerned about Asa Sidney’s affairs.
“I wonder if it affects Carol in any way,” she pondered. “Wouldn’t it be great if he left her some money in his will!”
The idea was driven from Nancy’s mind by the approach of a car turning into the roadway of the inn.
“Here comes trouble,” she said to herself.
For a moment Nancy thought it might be Jemitt’s car, but it proved to be Jacob Sidney’s sedan. Directly behind it was the car belonging to Peter Boonton.
Jacob Sidney jumped out and sprinted for the porch. Peter Boonton stepped down hurriedly and dashed after him.
Nancy had leaped to her feet and crossed the porch. Pretending to stumble, she now leaned against the front door for support. Boonton and his rival, panting heavily, drew up side by side in front of her.
“Stand aside and see that no one follows me!” Peter Boonton commanded.
“Nothing of the kind!” Jacob Sidney shouted. “I was here first. Listen, miss, I’m in
a hurry to see Mr. Sidney on a confidential matter. Let me in!”
“He’s busy just now,” Nancy said. “He’s in conference and doesn’t wish to be disturbed. Won’t you sit down?” She pointed toward the porch chairs.
“With whom is he conferring?” Boonton demanded.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that,” Nancy replied. “Won’t you two gentlemen have some tea?”
“Two gentlemen!” Jacob Sidney sneered. “I can account for only one here.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Sidney,” Boonton retorted. “I’m glad you admit you’re no gentleman.”
“Don’t speak to me, you—you double-crosser!’ Sidney fumed. ”I’ll have you understand that you and I are not on speaking terms!”
Boonton turned to Nancy. “Who are you?”
“Why, Mr. Boonton, we were introduced last night,” Nancy replied. “Bess and George were here with me, don’t you recall?”
“I remember you!” Sidney exclaimed. “You were in a car down where the tree fell. Say, what’s your business at this place?”
“See here, Sidney,” Boonton yelled, “you’re just trying to keep me from going upstairs! I can see through your tricks!”
“I’ll go up first because I’m his blood relative, and bear his name,” Sidney shouted.
He suddenly pushed Nancy aside and jerked open the door. With a strangled cry Boonton caught his rival by the coat and the two men leaped into the hallway together, Nancy at their heels.
A new obstacle confronted them, however, and Nancy felt like giving Carol Wipple three cheers. Across the bottom step of the stairs she had stretched a broom and a mop. Many of the treads were dripping soapy water, and halfway up knelt Carol, surrounded by three buckets of water.
“Hey! Let us up!” Boonton shouted.
Carol gave a start and upset one pail. The men leaped to one side just as a cascade of dirty water splashed down upon the spot where they had been standing.
“Oh, you scared me!” Carol cried, while Nancy suppressed a chuckle. “Wait, and I’ll mop the water so you can come up without slipping.”
While the two men fairly danced with impatience, Carol carried down one pail of water, then climbed the stairs again and carried another to the top. Then slowly she wiped away the excess water.
Her skirt was soaked and her hands red, but Carol seemed to be enjoying herself. She picked up the broom and mop, then the two men made a rush for the stairs.
They jammed together, clawing at each other for a moment. At last Boonton gained the advantage and darted upward, Sidney only a step behind.
“Carol, you were superb!” Nancy whispered, hugging the girl. “It gave Asa Sidney and Dad another precious five minutes.”
The young detective raced up the steps after the two men. She reached them just as they burst into the tower room.
CHAPTER VIII
Eavesdropper
“IN the name of the law I demand that you stop!” Peter Boonton shouted as he entered the tower room.
“Don’t pay any attention to him!” Jacob Sidney answered coolly.
Nancy saw Asa Sidney in his favorite chair near the great twisted candle. Standing at a nearby table was Carson Drew, staring calmly over his shoulder at the intruders. Raymond Hill was seated at the table, a pen in his hand. Apparently he had just finished using it because he capped the pen and returned it to his pocket.
“What branch of the law do you represent?” Mr. Drew asked the newcomers, gathering up the papers.
Boonton stood stock-still, his mouth opening and closing. “I—I’m not an officer,” he said finally. “But hasn’t a relative any rights in a case like this?”
“A case like what?” Mr. Drew asked. “I’ve just finished drawing Mr. Asa Sidney’s will, which Mr. Hill, here, has witnessed. Is there anything illegal about that?”
“I demand to see the document,” Jacob Sidney announced, striding forward, “to be sure this is the document of a person who is mentally sound.”
“I assure you it is,” the lawyer said, somewhat annoyed.
Jacob spoke up. “We don’t want any ideas put into this old man’s head.”
The remark angered Nancy. Her father’s code of justice was rigid and unyielding. Her blue eyes flashing, she said, “Mr. Sidney, I think you owe my father an apology and Mr. Asa Sidney too!”
Jacob Sidney gave an ingratiating smile. “Little spitfire, eh? Who are you, anyhow? Everybody seems to be running this show except those who should be.”
Angry, Asa Sidney arose and faced his relatives. “Why is it,” he said, “that you have left me alone for over two years, and have suddenly become concerned about my mental condition and my affairs? Is it because you suspect that I won’t last long and you want my money? I assure you I am just as able to take care of my own business today as I was two years ago.”
“I don’t doubt it, Uncle Asa,” Jacob Sidney said in mollifying tones. “I just want to warn you against putting too much confidence in strangers.”
“And not only strangers, but scheming relatives,” Peter Boonton interjected. “You must know that I have your best interests at heart, Uncle Asa.”
“Just the same,” said the old man, “a stranger may prove to be a great friend.” He clapped Nancy on the shoulder, finally letting his arm rest there affectionately.
He turned to his nephews. “When I need your advice I’ll send for you,” he said testily.
“I was only trying to help,” Jacob muttered.
“Do you really wish to be of service to me?” Asa asked, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Yes, indeed,” Jacob replied, eager to ingratiate himself with the old man.
“Let me do it,” Peter offered, thrusting himself forward.
“Well, you may both do it,” Asa said, stroking his long beard.
“What shall we do?” chorused the nephews.
“Get out!” Asa thundered in a tone that surprised everyone. “Get out of here and stay out until I ask you to come back! You’ve sickened me, both of you. You think I have money and you’re fluttering around me like a pair of vultures waiting for me to die! Go!”
His nephews paled at their schemes being ex posed like this before the lawyer, the banker and, most of all, before a young girl. Nancy felt Asa’s hand tremble as it rested on her shoulder. He swayed as he clung for a moment to her arm to steady himself.
His nephews backed toward the door. Nancy feared that another outburst from old Asa would seriously sap his feeble strength, so she slipped toward the door to speed the men’s departure.
“Please be calm and reasonable,” Peter Boonton said in a low, soothing tone. “I was impetuous, and I beg you to bear me no ill will, Uncle.”
Asa wearily signaled to Nancy to open the door. She grasped the knob and swung the door inward.
“Oh!” she exclaimed.
Frank Jemitt was crouched just outside!
“I—I dropped something. I—I—I—” he stammered. The innkeeper stared at Nancy and the others in dismay.
“I—I dropped something,” he repeated. “It was when I was cleaning this morning.”
“You were eavesdropping,” Boonton said, advancing toward the man.
“Never!” Jemitt wailed. “I wouldn’t do such a thing!”
He teetered for a moment on the top step, then with a yell of fright toppled over and rolled headlong down the stairs. He picked himself up on the landing.
“Are—are you hurt?” Nancy gasped.
“I’ll sue you, Boonton, for causing me to lose my balance!” Jemitt shouted, rubbing his head and one shin. “I might have broken my neck!”
“Frank,” Asa called, “when you get all the way down, open the front door for these two gentlemen.”
All but Peter and Jacob smiled. The two men silently descended the stairway.
As they vanished, Asa Sidney sighed deeply. “I hope they never return.”
“I’ll tell you a secret about your family,” said Nancy. “They’re not
all like your nephews. The two girls who were here with me to celebrate your birthday are Bess Marvin and George Fayne.”
“Well, well,” Asa Sidney said, a smile coming over his face, “I’m glad to hear there are a few charming people in my family tree.”
Mr. Hill said he must return to the bank. He shook hands with Asa Sidney, then spoke to Nancy’s father.
“I didn’t know that acting as witness to the signing of a will could become such an interesting adventure.... And, Carson, I’ll certainly remember all you told me at our little conference. Is there anything further?”
“No, I’m sure you understand the general situation as well as I do,” Mr. Drew replied. “Shall Nancy drive you back to the bank?”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Mr. Hill said. “I’ll phone my chauffeur who is no doubt waiting there for me, and have him come here. It must be very close to 1 nchtime.”
“I don’t have to consult my watch to agree with you.” Mr. Drew smiled. “How about you, Nancy?”
“I could eat—indeed I could! But I can wait, too.”
“Good! I want to question Jemitt,” her father said. “Well, then, good-by for the present, Raymond.”
As he left the tower, and Mr. Drew paused in the doorway for another word with old Mr. Sidney, soft footfalls were heard on the stairs. Carol appeared, carrying a loaded tray.
“I—I made some sandwiches,” she said shyly. “And a pitcher of cocoa.”
“Wonderful! Wonderful!” the lawyer exclaimed. “And you must eat with us, Carol. I should like to become better acquainted with you.”
“Carol is a very good girl, my only comfort and helper,” Asa Sidney said. “My dear child, sit here beside me. You look very tired.”
“I’m not tired, really,” the young waitress replied stoutly, putting the tray on the table and lifting the cloth that covered it. “Now, please help yourselves. I can’t stay, because some people have arrived and I must serve them.”
She hurried off and the others began to eat. When they finished, Nancy said, “Did Mr. Hill tell you men about the chest I put in the bank vault?”
“No,” they answered.
“Mr. Sidney,” Nancy went on, “did you ask Mr. Jemitt to bury your chest that used to be under that table?” She pointed.
The Sign of the Twisted Candles Page 4
