The Clue in the Old Stagecoach

by Carolyn G. Keene

  “They’re three nice fellows,” George remarked, as the girls went into the lodge and took the elevator to their rooms.

  Nancy and Bess agreed and Bess added, “This mystery is going to get dangerous—I just have a hunch. We need some boys to help us. I’m glad Ned and Burt and Dave are coming.”

  Nancy laughed. “Danger or no danger,” she said, “I’m glad they’re coming too.”

  After she had showered and dressed, the young sleuth sat in deep thought for some time. What should she do next? Suddenly her puzzled mood changed. “I know what I’ll do,” she told herself. “I’ll call Dad. He’ll give me some good advice.”

  It had been arranged at home that while Nancy was on vacation with Bess and George, her father would live at his club. Their housekeeper, Hannah Gruen, was going to visit relatives. Mrs. Gruen had lived with the Drews for many years and had helped to rear Nancy, whose mother had passed away when Nancy was only three years old.

  Nancy stuck her head into the adjoining room and told the girls she was going downstairs to a private phone booth and put in a long-distance call to her father. Soon she had the club on the wire and asked for Mr. Drew. Hoping fervently that he would be there, Nancy held the receiver and tapped one foot in nervous anticipation.

  A few moments later she was delighted to hear a deep-sounding voice say, “Hello, Nancy dear!”

  “Dad!” his daughter cried happily. “I’m so glad you were in. Dad, I’m full of problems and I need your advice.”

  Carson Drew chuckled. “Shall I have my dinner sent here and eat it while you talk?” he teased. “But seriously, tell me first how you are and then I’ll listen to your problems. I’m sure they involve some mystery.”

  Nancy said she was feeling fine, then launched into the story of the stagecoach mystery and the various setbacks she had had.

  “Well, you certainly have been busy,” Mr. Drew remarked, as she finished. “And the mystery sounds like a most intriguing one. Now what is it exactly you want me to help you with?”

  “Tell me first, am I on the right track in the way I’ve gone about this?” the young sleuth asked.

  “I’d say you are,” the lawyer replied. “And I think your surmises so far have probably been correct. So go on with your digging operations. But if I were you, before I did any more of it, I’d try to find out who the former owners or tenants of the Zucker property were. Perhaps they can give you some clue as to where the stagecoach might have been buried.”

  “Dad,” said Nancy, feeling a new surge of enthusiasm, “I knew you’d tell me exactly the right thing to do. I’ll ask the Zuckers, and if they don’t know, I’ll go to the courthouse and look at the records.”

  “I wish I could come up there and help you,” said Mr. Drew, “but I’m deep in problems of my own here on a case. I must own up, though, I’m getting lonesome. Don’t let that case of yours take too long to solve!”

  “Dad, I miss you very much too,” said Nancy. “I’ll speed things up and get home as fast as I can.”

  When Nancy met Bess and George for dinner, both cousins remarked that Nancy seemed very refreshed and gay. Chuckling, she told them why. “Tomorrow morning we’ll go to see the Zuckers. I have a strange feeling that I’ve sort of turned the corner in this mystery.”

  “Thank goodness,” said Bess. “Nancy, I was beginning to worry about you.”

  Fortunately, the Zuckers had a complete list of the former owners of the farm, starting with the man from whom Abner Langstreet had rented it.

  “But only two of these people are alive now,” Morton said. “One is elderly Mr. Hanson who lives in a government home for war veterans outside Francisville. The other is Mrs. Stryker, who is much younger. She’s the widow of the man who owned this place just before we bought it. He was killed on that hill”—she pointed—“when a tractor overturned on him.”

  “How dreadful!” Bess murmured.

  Nancy said the girls would go immediately to interview these people and then perhaps come back to do some digging. Morton Zucker told them he had done a little more work up near the knoll the evening before but had found nothing.

  “See you later,” Nancy called, as she started the car’s motor.

  She drove directly to the veterans’ home. Mr. Hanson, old and feeble, was delighted to learn he had callers. Once he started to talk, there was no stopping him. It soon became evident that while he could recall vividly events which had happened a long time ago, he was very hazy about the days when he had lived on the farm.

  “I’m not learning anything about the stagecoach,” Nancy thought.

  Finally she gave up, arose, and said the girls must leave. Mr. Hanson tried his best to keep them from going as he said he had much more to tell. But they felt sure he had never unearthed anything on the farm property.

  “We’ve enjoyed talking with you very much,” said Nancy politely.

  The girls left and went directly to Mrs. Stryker’s home in Francisville. Nancy apologized for the intrusion and the necessity of having to talk about the woman’s late husband. A tear rolled down Mrs. Stryker’s face, but she said it was all right, then asked how she could help the girls.

  To Nancy’s questions the woman replied that she felt sure nothing large was buried on any part of the property, except perhaps on the wooded knoll, the only unplowed area on the farm.

  “My dear husband was an excellent farmer,” she said. “He plowed deep and kept every inch of the soil under fine cultivation. If he had ever come across anything worth mentioning, I know he would have told me.”

  “Then I’m probably entirely wrong in my guess that something of value may be on the property,” said Nancy.

  She thanked Mrs. Stryker for giving them the information she had and was about to leave when the woman said, “You’re the second person within twenty-four hours to come inquiring about the Zucker property.”

  Nancy stopped short in amazement. “Really?” she said. “Would you mind telling me who the other person was?”

  “It was a man,” Mrs. Stryker answered. “He said his name was Frank Templer.”

  Nancy and her friends were startled. Quickly Nancy asked for a description of Frank Templer. The minute she and Bess and George heard it they knew the person was Ross Monteith!

  “Did Mr.—er—Templer say where he was staying?” Nancy inquired eagerly.

  “Well not exactly,” said Mrs. Stryker, “but I gathered it was somewhere in this area. Do you know Mr. Templer?”

  “I think so,” said Nancy, “only I know him by another name. That’s why I’m so interested to find out about him.”

  “Something else he said may help you,” Mrs. Stryker went on. “Mr. Templer said that he was a member of the family which originally owned the Zucker place. He was trying to find something valuable which had been buried years ago.”

  “Did he mention the name of the family?” Nancy queried.

  “Yes, he did,” the woman replied. “He said it was Langstreet.”

  “I see,” said Nancy. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Stryker. Please forgive me for having bothered you, but it may turn out that you will have helped several people.”

  “I’m always glad to help anyone,” said Mrs. Stryker.

  The girls went out to the convertible. As soon as they were seated in it, George asked Nancy what she thought of this latest bit of information.

  “It’s terrific!” the young sleuth said. “Apparently Mr. Templer doesn’t know that Abner Langstreet never owned the Zucker farm, but only rented it!”

  “That’s right,” said George. “So Ross isn’t a descendant. He’s only pretending to be so he can claim any fortune found on the place.”

  “Sounds like him,” Bess remarked, and added, “Where are you going now, Nancy?”

  “To Mrs. Strook’s and ask her about the Langstreet family tree.”

  The elderly woman was amazed at Nancy’s information. “I never heard of anyone in our family named Monteith or Templer either.”

&
nbsp; Nancy suggested that it was possible Mr. Abner Langstreet had married after disappearing from Francisville.

  “Then why didn’t any relatives show up at the time of his death?” the elderly woman argued.

  “That’s exactly what I’m wondering,” Nancy said.

  CHAPTER XVI

  A Harrowing Appointment

  ON THE way back to Camp Merriweather, Bess acknowledged her fear that the Monteiths, if balked too far, might try to harm the girls.

  “You’re right,” said George. “The sooner we find that two-faced couple the better!”

  Bess looked at her cousin. “And just how are we going to do that with no clues?”

  George did not reply, but Nancy said, “What seems important to me is to have courthouse, church, and cemetery records searched to find out if Abner Langstreet did marry and have any children. When we get back to the lodge, I think I’ll call Dad and ask him to do this for me.”

  Nancy’s father thought this was a good idea and said he would arrange for someone in the neighborhood of Francisville to make the search. “I’ll call you back, Nancy,” he promised.

  Within fifteen minutes he phoned that a young lawyer in Francisville by the name of Art Warner would take the case.

  “I’ve asked him to let you know what he learns, Nancy,” Mr. Drew told her.

  “Dad,” she said, “if it’s true that Ross Monteith is a direct descendant of Abner Langstreet, would the old stagecoach belong to him?”

  “Perhaps,” her father replied. “It would depend upon what was put into the deed of sale of the property where the old vehicle is found. Art Warner will get all these facts for you.”

  “All right, Dad, and thanks so much.”

  Nancy joined her friends. Upon hearing the results of the conversation with Mr. Drew, Bess remarked, “I guess we can’t do much until we hear from this Art Warner. It will give us a good chance to have some fun.”

  She said there was to be a water ballet in a few nights. Tryouts were being held now.

  “Let’s go and see how we rate,” she suggested.

  Nancy was torn between a desire to concede to Bess’s wish and to save all her time for solving the mystery. She realized that both Bess and George had given up a lot of fun at the lodge in order to help her. She must do her part by acceding to their wishes.

  “All right,” she said, smiling. “Let’s put on our bathing suits and try out right now.”

  The three girls changed, then went downstairs. A large crowd had gathered at the pool to watch. One after another of the girl campers was asked to try out her skill swimming to a waltz tune, then to a lively number.

  When it came time for Nancy, Bess, and George to try out, Bess asked the social director, who was running the affair, if they might swim together.

  “Yes. Go ahead.”

  The girls dived into the deep end of the pool and gracefully “waltzed” across the water. At one point they were asked to turn on their backs and swim in time to the music. When they finally reached the far edge of the pool, the music suddenly changed to a fast number. Impishly George said to her friends:

  “Let’s put on a comedy act.”

  “Okay,” Nancy and Bess agreed. “You lead us, George.”

  They dived beneath one another, as if barely missing a crash, reared up out of the water, made comical faces, and disappeared beneath the surface all in perfect rhythm to the music. The crowd along the shore clapped and shouted.

  “Pretty neat,” called out a red-haired boy.

  When the names of the finalists were read, there was no question but that the three girls from River Heights were among those chosen for the water ballet.

  “Will you please come see the director about costumes?” the swimming instructor requested. He had been the final judge.

  As Nancy and her chums stood talking with the social director, a bellhop came to tell Nancy she was wanted on the telephone. She hurried off, wondering who might be calling—her father, Ned Nickerson, Hannah Gruen—

  Nancy found herself completely thunderstruck when the voice at the other end of the line said, “Nancy, this is Audrey Monteith. How are you?”

  The young sleuth said she was fine. With frigid politeness she asked, “How are you and Ross? And why did you leave Merriweather in such a hurry?”

  “Oh, we feel much better,” Audrey replied. “We couldn’t stand the camp another minute. Such food! We felt positively ill most of the time.”

  “Where are you staying now?” Nancy inquired.

  “Oh, at a very fashionable, exclusive resort,” Audrey answered, but did not give the name of the place. Quickly she went on, “Nancy, you’re just the person to help Ross and me. We’ve stumbled onto a little mystery we’d like you to solve.”

  “I’m very busy,” Nancy said. “There wouldn’t be time for me to—”

  “Why, I’m surprised,” said Audrey. “I didn’t think you ever turned down a chance to solve a mystery. And this is a pretty keen one.”

  “What is it?” Nancy asked.

  Audrey Monteith said it concerned a deserted farmhouse located only half a mile out of Francisville. “It’s on Tulip Road which runs off Main Street. It wouldn’t take you long, I’m sure. Please come meet us day after tomorrow. Later, Ross and I will take you to lunch in town.”

  Nancy hesitated. Her first hunch was that this was some kind of a trap and she did not propose to be caught in it.

  But she argued with herself, “If I don’t go, I may be cheating myself and the police out of picking up a clue about the Monteiths’ recent actions. This deserted farmhouse they’re talking about might have something to do with the old stagecoach!”

  “All right, I’ll meet you Monday morning,” Nancy promised.

  “Let’s make it eleven thirty,” Audrey said.

  Nancy agreed, then asked, “Where can I get in touch with you, if I find it necessary to change the date?”

  Audrey did not answer the question directly. She said, “If you don’t show up by twelve o’clock I’ll call you at the lodge.” She hung up.

  Later on, when Nancy was alone with Bess and George, she told them about the phone call. The cousins were worried and advised caution. Bess added, “Surely you’re not going alone?”

  Nancy laughed. “Not unless you two walk out on me,” she said.

  George made a face at Nancy. “You know perfectly well we’d never do that.”

  Nancy said she would notify the police of the appointment. While talking with the chief, she learned that the department had not been able to find the suspicious couple.

  “I’ll have a man or two hidden near that farmhouse to watch proceedings,” the chief said. “Then later they can follow the Monteiths.”

  Late Monday morning the girls set off. The deserted farmhouse proved to be easy to find. Nancy turned into the lane and parked near the dilapidated weather-beaten building. As the girls stepped out of the convertible, she said:

  “Just in case the Monteiths are planning to trick us, let’s watch all directions at once. We can sit down here on the walk with our backs to one another.”

  “Suits me,” George agreed. “Say, I wonder where the police are. They’re certainly well hidden.”

  In five minutes it was eleven thirty, but the Monteiths had not arrived. After ten minutes had gone by, George spoke up, “I’m afraid there is some trick to this.”

  “Yes,” said Bess, “I’m beginning to think the Monteiths just wanted to be sure of knowing where you were, Nancy. They’re working some scheme miles from here—maybe at the Zucker farm.”

  Nancy frowned. At ten minutes to twelve she felt inclined to agree with her friends. “I’ll wait until twelve and then we’ll leave,” she said disgustedly.

  The words were hardly out of her mouth when the earth began to shake. “Another explosion!” George cried.

  As the girls jumped to their feet, the dilapidated farmhouse suddenly began to fall apart! They fled in terror. Just in time they got beyond th
e crashing structure.

  “Your car, Nancy!” George exclaimed.

  The convertible was struck by pieces of flying wood and broken glass. A few bricks from the chimney had landed in the rear seat. But there was no major damage.

  “Thank goodness we’re all right,” said Nancy.

  After the girls collected their wits, they went over and began to clean out the car. Bess found a polishing cloth and set to work shining up the scratched and nicked spots.

  “I wonder what happened to the police,” George said. “Seems to me they’d come out of hiding now.”

  Bess clapped a hand to her cheek. “Oh, you don’t suppose they were inside the building!” she cried in horror.

  “No,” said Nancy. “They were to hide nearby. It’s my guess that since they can see we’re all right, they won’t bother to let us know where they are. I think they’ll stay here a long time in case the Monteiths show up. It’s possible Ross and Audrey won’t come until after we girls have left.”

  The three friends began to discuss the explosion. It had been very similar to the previous one and there was no doubt in their minds but that the same people had perpetrated both of them.

  “Do you think the Monteiths knew it was going to happen?” Bess asked. “And they’re mean enough to have sent us here, hoping we’d be injured?”

  “I certainly wouldn’t put it past them,” George answered.

  Even Nancy felt that this guess on Bess’s part might well be true. Then she tried to shake off the thought. “Perhaps the Monteiths didn’t keep the date because they were tipped off about the police. We’ll wait a little longer.”

  But though the girls waited until twelve thirty, Ross and Audrey did not drive up. Even then Nancy said that she might hear from them again by telephone. George, however, was skeptical that this would ever happen.

  The girls left and headed for the center of town. “I want to talk to Art Warner and see what he may have learned about Abner Langstreet,” said Nancy.

  Bess and George waited in the car, while Nancy went to see the young lawyer. To her astonishment, Judd Hillary sat in the reception room.