The Witch Tree Symbol
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I - A Mysterious Intruder
CHAPTER II - Sleuthing Plans
CHAPTER III - Chust for Pretty
CHAPTER IV - Nancy’s Strategy
CHAPTER V - A Surprising Find
CHAPTER VI - Witches
CHAPTER VII - A Stolen Horse
CHAPTER VIII - Disturbing Rumors
CHAPTER IX - Mistaken Identity
CHAPTER X - A Disastrous Race
CHAPTER XI - The Vanished Driver
CHAPTER XII - A Hideout
CHAPTER XIII - The Attic’s Secret
CHAPTER XIV - A Groeszdawdi Clue
CHAPTER XV - The Gypsy’s Story
CHAPTER XVI - A Slingshot Strikes
CHAPTER XVII - Wheel Off!
CHAPTER XVIII - Another Hex
CHAPTER XIX - Caught!
CHAPTER XX - SOS
THE WITCH TREE SYMBOL
When a neighbor asks Nancy Drew to accompany her to an old uninhabited mansion, a new mystery opens up, and danger lurks on the second floor. Nancy finds a witch tree symbol that leads her to Pennsylvania Dutch country in pursuit of a cunning and ruthless thief.
The friendly welcome the young detective and her friends Bess and George receive from the Amish people soon changes to hostility when it is rumored that Nancy is a witch! Superstition helps her adversary in his attempt to get her off his trail, but Nancy does not give up. Persistently she uncovers one clue after another.
Nancy’s intelligence and sleuthing ability finally lead to the fascinating solution of this puzzling case.
The bull lowered his head to make another attack!
Copyright C 1975, 1955 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 : 978-1-101-07734-4
2008 Printing
http://us.penguingroup.com
CHAPTER I
A Mysterious Intruder
“I wouldn’t go into that spooky old house alone for anything,” declared the plump, nervous woman who sat beside Nancy Drew in her convertible.
Nancy, a slender, attractive girl of eighteen, smiled as she turned the car into the winding, tree-shaded drive of the Follett mansion. “Why, Mrs. Tenney,” she said, “your great-aunt lived here alone for many years and was safe.”
“She was just lucky not to have had burglars,” Mrs. Tenney replied. “Aunt Sara was so absent-minded that most of the time she didn’t know what was going on. But one thing she did keep track of was the beautiful antique furniture in her library. She never used the room, but wouldn’t part with any of its contents.”
As Nancy parked the car in front of the faded green Victorian house, she remarked, “Everything looks peaceful. Shall we go in?”
Mrs. Tenney gazed askance at the closed draperies, then said, “I suppose we must. After all, that’s why I asked you to come. Oh, Nancy, wait until you see the furniture. Especially the two matching cherry tables George Washington once used. They’re priceless. And to think that I’ve inherited half of everything in this house!”
Nancy and her companion alighted. Mrs. Tenney unlocked the front door. Snapping on a light, she led the way to a large hall, on each side of which were arched entrances to various rooms. Nancy followed her to an archway on the right that lead to the library. Mrs. Tenney stopped abruptly and gasped.
“What’s the matter?” Nancy asked.
“They’re gone! All the valuable antiques!” the woman cried out. Frantically she hurried into the library, paused, and pointed. “There’s where a fine old sofa stood. At each end was one of the tables I told you about.”
Mrs. Tenney wept. Then, as a sudden thought struck her, she stopped and said, “Well, he won’t get away with this!”
The blond-haired, blue-eyed girl waited for the woman to explain her statement. Nancy had met Mrs. Tenney only a short time ago and felt it would be presumptuous to question her at the moment. The woman had recently moved into Nancy’s neighborhood. Having heard that the young detective was courageous and level-headed, she had asked Nancy to accompany her to the dreary Follett mansion. She did not want to be alone in the house while she took inventory of the furnishings recently willed to her.
“My second cousin!” she burst out. “Alpha Zinn! He came here and took the best pieces before I had a chance to decide on what I wanted!”
Nancy ventured a question. “Was Mr. Zinn bequeathed the other half of the contents of this house?”
“Yes. We have never been friends. I don’t trust him. He’s an antique dealer and a sharp trader.”
Nancy did not feel that these were valid reasons for the woman’s accusations, especially when half the furniture belonged to Zinn, anyway. “Perhaps it was someone else,” the detective suggested. “Let’s look for a clue to the burglar.”
Even though all the furniture had been moved out of the library, there were bookcases that had been built into the walls, radiator covers, and wastebaskets standing about. A few books remained on the shelves, but other than that there was little evidence of anything else having been left behind.
Nancy began searching carefully. In a comer of the library she picked up a small, crumpled piece of paper. Drawn on it in colored crayon was a white-rimmed circle with a red center in which was a black star. Printed underneath the circle were the words: WITCH TRFF SYMBOL.
“How very strange!” Nancy thought, as she showed it to Mrs. Tenney. “Do you know what this is?” she asked.
The woman gave the drawing one glance, then said, “Of course. It’s a Pennsylvania Dutch hex sign. Well, I guess that’s all the proof we need,” she stated flatly. “Alpha Zinn lives in that part of Pennsylvania. I just know he was here and took every stick of good furniture. Not only his, but mine!”
Nancy had to admit that under the circumstances Mr. Zinn was a logical suspect, but she was not convinced of his guilt. “What does ‘witch tree symbol’ mean?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Tenney replied. “But what difference does that make when I know Alpha is guilty?”
Although Nancy felt sure that the hex sign might be the clue to solving the mystery she did not say so. Whether Mrs. Tenney’s cousin or someone else were the real culprit, he very likely had come from the area where quaint hex designs, originated in the days of witchcraft, are sometimes painted on barns. Nancy questioned Mrs. Tenney further about the hex sign. But the woman could throw no light on the strange symbol’s significance.
“Do you know what this is!” Nancy asked.
“When were you in this house last?” Nancy asked.
“About a week ago. I came here with one of the executors,” Mrs. Tenney explained. “He gave me a key and said I might come back any time I wished.”
Mrs. Tenney went on to say that the executor had left and she had stayed behind to inspect some of the furnishings upstairs. But she had begun to feel uneasy alone in the old mansion and had decided to leave.
“Are you sure you locked the front door?” Nancy asked.
Mrs. Tenney thought for a few moments. She frowned and then said, “I’m sure that man locked the door after us.”
“What man?” Nancy inquired. “I thought you said the executor had already left.”
“Oh, it wasn’t the executor,” Mrs. Tenney answered quickly. “It was the antique dealer.”
Nancy sighed. The woman certainly was giving a confused
account of things! But she patiently urged Mrs. Tenney to tell the whole story.
“Well, this is the way it happened that day,” the woman confided. “I was just going to lock the door when a nice-looking man drove up. He said that he had heard about Mrs. Follett’s collection. He was interested in buying any articles that her heirs did not want, so I took him into the library for a quick look. When we came out I gave him the key to lock the door.”
“I see,” Nancy said, thinking how easy it would have been for the man to pretend to lock it. “Please go on.”
“The man said he had read about Aunt Sara’s antiques in a newspaper. He was in River Heights on business and decided to drive over here to look at the pieces.”
“Then he wasn’t a local dealer,” Nancy commented thoughtfully. “Where did this man come from?”
“I don’t know.” Mrs. Tenney shrugged. “But he was staying at a hotel in town.”
Nancy pondered this information for a full minute. Then she said there was a good possibility this man might be the furniture thief and should be investigated at once.
“At which hotel was he staying?” she asked.
Mrs. Tenney flushed with embarrassment, admitting that she could not remember, nor could she recall his name.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Nancy. “We can go to each hotel in town and inquire about guests interested in antique furniture.”
As Nancy finished speaking, she and Mrs. Tenney became aware of light footsteps overhead. Someone was on the second floor! Mrs. Tenney stood frozen to the spot, every bit of color drained from her face. But without a moment’s hesitation Nancy dashed to the stairway.
“Oh, don’t go up there!” Mrs. Tenney gasped. “You might get hurt!”
Nancy stopped, not because of the warning, but because she heard stairs creaking. The intruder was probably trying to escape!
“Is there a back staircase?” Nancy asked Mrs. Tenney. As she received no answer, she whirled around.
To her dismay, Mrs. Tenney lay on the floor in a faint. Although Nancy realized that the intruder might escape, she rushed to give the woman first aid. A few moments later Mrs. Tenney’s eyelids flickered open. Instantly Nancy dashed off in pursuit of the intruder.
But the pause had proved to be costly. When she reached the back of the old mansion, Nancy found the outside kitchen door open. Looking out, she saw a tall, slender man disappearing through a hedge at the rear of the property.
Nancy felt it would be useless to try to overtake him. She locked the back door and returned to Mrs. Tenney. The woman was sitting on the staircase.
“How do you feel?” Nancy asked.
“Oh terrible, just terrible.” Mrs. Tenney moaned. “Please drive me home.”
“Right away.” Nancy locked the front door and helped the woman into the car. On the way to Mrs. Tenney’s house, Nancy asked for a full description of the antique dealer. Although the woman was almost too distraught to talk, Nancy learned that he was tall, slender, and dark, with flashing eyes, and was soft-spoken.
“But I’m sure he’s not the thief,” Mrs. Tenney insisted, as Nancy pulled up in front of her home. “I still think that cousin of mine is responsible. Aunt Sara always said he kept an eagle eye on her antiques. Of course, I’d hate to have him aware that I’m suspicious of him. But I’d certainly like to know if I’m right.”
Then, as a sudden thought struck Mrs. Tenney, she added, “Nancy, would you like to take this case for me? Please. You’re a good detective. Go see Alpha Zinn and find out whether he took the antiques.”
Nancy promised she would think it over and let the woman know. Right now, she would drive downtown to find out about the mysterious antique dealer who was staying in River Heights.
“By the way,” Nancy asked, “what does your cousin look like?”
“Oh, he’s short and plump,” Mrs. Tenney replied. “He eats too much.”
Mrs. Tenney got out of the car and Nancy hurried off on her search. She went from hotel to hotel As she did, she told herself that if her hunch was right, the suspect would have had plenty of time to check out and escape.
Finally at the Pickwick Arms, she repeated her query: Was a tall, slender, dark-haired, soft-spoken man registered there? Nancy added that she did not know his name, but wanted to get in touch with him about some antique furniture he had examined.
The clerk smiled and said, “I guess you mean Mr. Roger Hoelt. I’m sorry, miss, but you’re too late. He rushed in here, packed in a hurry, and checked out about fifteen minutes ago!”
CHAPTER II
Sleuthing Plans
“DID Mr. Hoelt leave a forwarding address?” Nancy asked the hotel clerk.
“No,” the man replied, “but you might find him listed in the New York City telephone directory. He gave that as his business address.”
Nancy was disappointed. She had been certain that the antique dealer had dropped the paper with the hex symbol, and had therefore come from Pennsylvania Dutch country!
Another idea occurred to her. Nancy identified herself and said that Mr. Hoelt was a suspect in a questionable business deaL
“Perhaps some of your records can help me locate him,” the girl said. “Did he make any long-distance telephone calls?”
“I’ll look up his bill,” the clerk offered and went into his office. In a short time he returned and said, “Mr. Hoelt phoned Lancaster, Pennsylvania, three days ago. He talked a long time, according to the charges.”
Nancy’s heart was beating fast. Lancaster was in Pennsylvania Dutch country! “Have you a record of the number?” she inquired.
“The operator told me the call was to a pay station,” the clerk replied. “I can give you the number, but I’m afraid it won’t help.”
Nancy thanked the man and left the Pickwick Arms. Her eyes were glowing. She was never happier than when working on a mystery. From the time her father had asked her to help him solve The Secret of the Old Clock to the recent hazardous The Scarlet Slipper Mystery, the young detective never let a suspect elude her for long.
Now, as she thought about Roger Hoelt, Nancy was more convinced than ever that he had stolen the valuable antiques from the Follett mansion a day or two earlier. Perhaps he had called a friend in Pennsylvania to pick up the furniture in a truck.
“Hoelt may be listed in the police files,” Nancy mused. “I’ll ask Chief McGinnis.”
The River Heights police captain, an old friend of Nancy’s, greeted her warmly as she entered his office. “Well, Nancy!” He grinned. “Have you found a new mystery already?”
“Now stop teasing,” Nancy said. “Yes, I am working on another case. I need some information about Roger Hoelt. He may live in New York City.”
Chief McGinnis went to a filing cabinet. He riffled quickly through a series of cards.
“Here it is,” he said. “Roger Hoelt, six feet, slender, dark. Eyes, brown; nose, pointed; slight scar on tip of chin; soft-spoken; married. Lived as a child in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Well, young lady, is that your man?”
“That sounds like him.”
The chief told Nancy that Hoelt was a jewel thief who had served a prison term for holding up jewelry stores. “Made one big haul right here in River Heights,” he said, handing Nancy the man’s picture. “But he’s out free now,” he added.
After studying the photograph, Nancy informed the chief that she suspected Hoelt of stealing some antique furniture from the Follett mansion. “Has Mrs. Tenney reported it missing?”
“No.”
Nancy telephoned Mrs. Tenney and the woman spoke with the police chief. He promised to send two men to investigate the Follett house, and advised Mrs. Tenney to notify the executors immediately.
“I want a complete list of the missing articles,” he directed.
When the chief had completed his conversation, Nancy said she hoped to arrange a trip to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, to search for Hoelt and the missing furniture.
“Maybe you’ll find the thief before
we do!” Chief McGinnis predicted, bidding her good-by.
At home, Nancy was greeted by her tall, handsome father, a well-known attorney, and Hannah Gruen, the motherly housekeeper who had lived with the family since Mrs. Drew’s death many years before.
“Nancy,” Hannah said, “don’t you ever get hungry? We’ve waited dinner an hour for you.”
Nancy apologized and during the meal described the mystery that had delayed her.
“Mrs. Tenney wants me to go to Pennsylvania Dutch country and prove that her cousin is the one who removed the antiques from the Follett home,” she said. “I’d like to make the trip, even though I’m convinced the real thief is Roger Hoelt.”
From her purse, Nancy took the paper bearing the strange hex symbol. “I’m sure this is a good clue,” she told her father and Hannah. “The prowler at the mansion today might have been Hoelt. He probably returned to get this, but I picked it up first.”
Carson Drew agreed that a trip to the Pennsylvania Dutch area probably would be fruitful. It might also be dangerous. He suggested that Nancy ask her friends Bess and George to join her.
“A great idea!” Nancy exclaimed enthusiastically. “I’ll call them right away!”
Bess and George, who were cousins, were eager to make the trip and soon received their parents’ permission. When the plans were settled, Nancy helped Hannah with the dishes.
“Where’s Togo?” she asked, missing her frisky terrier, usually underfoot at dinnertime.
“Oh, I let him out for a run just before you came home,” Hannah replied. “But you’d better see what’s happened to him.”
Nancy went to the backyard and whistled. When the dog did not respond, she began to worry. She walked to the front of the house and whistled.
As she waited, she observed a car that had driven slowly by the Drews’ home was not turning the corner. Instead, the driver made a U-turn and the vehicle came back down the street.
At this moment, there was a joyous bark, and Togo raced from the backyard of the house opposite Nancy’s. Eager to greet his young mistress, the little dog dashed across the street.