The Secret in the Old Attic

by Carolyn G. Keene

  Finally she came to the bottles. There were four which were fairly large in size and several smaller ones. All were exquisite.

  Nancy lifted up the bottles one by one. The color of the glass indicated that they were old and valuable.

  “This must be the blue one Mr. March spoke about!” she said, examining the bottle. “It’s beautiful. Mrs. Dight is lucky to get this in exchange for a few dresses!”

  Placing all the glassware in a box, she started for the stairway.

  “Oh, I hope my plan works!” She sighed. “I can accomplish two missions if all goes well!”

  With Effie’s help Nancy washed each bottle until it shone.

  “What are you going to do with these?” the maid asked.

  “Try to sell them to the husband of a woman who collects old bottles,” Nancy said.

  She spent most of the afternoon reading and talking to Susan. After she had said good-by to Mr. March and his granddaughter, Nancy went to pick up the old bottles in the kitchen.

  “You’re coming back tonight?” Effie asked fearfully. “I don’t feel well enough to stay here without you, what with ghosts and prowlers hanging around the place.”

  “We haven’t seen a real ghost yet!” Nancy laughed.

  “Call it what you like. You can’t fool me,” the girl complained. “I see a man prowling around, and I’m supposed to believe he was just crossing the lawn on his way home. Then a skeleton happens to be hanging in a closet. Next a black widow crawls out and bites me!”

  Nancy, to allay Effie’s fears, promised to come back and spend the night.

  “I’ll get here as soon as I can, Effie,” she said.

  Taking all the bottles with her, she drove to River Heights. Parking her car at a distance from the Dight factory, Nancy proceeded on foot.

  When the young detective reached the plant, it was approaching the closing hour. Workmen were already coming through the gates. Nancy stopped a minute to look for Bushy Trott, but when he did not appear, she headed for the executive offices.

  “Am I too late to see Mr. Dight?” Nancy inquired of Miss Jones, the private secretary.

  “He’s still in his office,” the pleasant young woman replied. “I think he’ll see you.”

  The secretary went inside. A moment later she returned to escort Nancy into his private office. Lawrence Dight arose as Nancy entered, but did not appear too pleased to see her again.

  “Mr. Dight, I must apologize for bothering you,” Nancy began, deftly whisking the fine blue bottle from the box. “I’m afraid I annoyed you the last time I was here.”

  The factory owner’s gaze fastened upon the beautiful old glass.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in amazement.

  “It’s a little gift I brought for your wife, Mr. Dight. She very kindly did a favor for me today.” Nancy held the bottle so the sunlight pouring through a window shone directly through it. “I have several others here I thought you might like to buy for her collection.”

  Mr. Dight examined the blue bottle. His cold manner left him for a moment as he admired it.

  “Thank you. I’ll take it to Mrs. Dight. Let me see the others.”

  Nancy set them on his desk.

  “How much do you want for them?”

  Nancy hardly heard him. She was standing near an open window. Glancing down into an alley between the office building and another brick structure, she noticed a familiar figure. The man was Bushy Trott!

  “I said, name your price,” Lawrence Dight repeated in an irritated voice.

  Nancy did not want to lose an opportunity of seeing where Bushy Trott was going. Probably he was heading for the secret section where the stolen formula was being used. This was her chance to find out about it!

  “Suppose I leave the bottles with you, Mr. Dight,” she said hurriedly, moving toward the door. She tried to act as if she were not eager to get away. “No doubt you would like to examine the glassware before deciding what you would want to pay for it.”

  To the surprise of Mr. Dight, Nancy opened the door and walked out. In a moment she was at the main exit of the building. Hurrying to the alley, Nancy was just in time to see the suspect enter a small brick building.

  No one else was in sight.

  “If only I can get in there!” Nancy thought.

  Cautiously she tested the door. Although equipped with an automatic lock, it fortunately had not slammed tightly shut. Nancy slipped inside.

  The building seemed to be deserted. There were no sounds of workmen or machinery.

  Moving noiselessly down a dimly lighted narrow hall, Nancy spied Bushy Trott. He paused for a moment before another door, then quickly opened it and entered.

  Nancy did not hesitate. As soon as his footsteps died away, she followed him through the doorway. The man was not in sight.

  The suspect entered the building

  Finding herself in a room filled with vats of liquid, Nancy decided to investigate them. But before she had a chance to do so, a key grated in a lock.

  Ducking behind one of the vats, she again saw Trott, who entered through another door. He closed and locked it, then went back into the hall again.

  Nancy arose and looked into the vats. The color appeared familiar. She sniffed. The odor from the mixture was the same as that which she had smelled at the Booker factory!

  “Now I have real evidence!” she exulted.

  CHAPTER X

  Dangerous Adventure

  DELIGHTED with her discovery, Nancy now was intent on finding a container to get a sample from the Dight chemical vats.

  “There must be a bottle here somewhere.”

  Suddenly beside her shoulder the girl saw a black widow spider crawling through an open ventilator shaft. In horror she backed away quickly. Then she killed it with her shoe.

  “I wonder what’s on the other side of the ventilator.”

  An idea came to her. “Maybe Bushy Trott uses spiders to make silk thread the way Mr. Booker does.”

  Excited, she looked through the ventilator. It was dark beyond, but Nancy found a switch which lighted the inner room. It was filled with glass cases, but she could not see what was in them.

  “I must find out if they’re spiders that spin silk thread,” she decided. “If so, that will be another bit of evidence against Mr. Dight.”

  Near the ventilator was a door which apparently led to the room. To Nancy’s annoyance it had no knob or visible lock, nor could it be pushed or pulled.

  “It must open by means of a secret spring,” she reasoned.

  With infinite patience Nancy moved her hand over every inch of the panel. Suddenly the door swung inward.

  “I must have touched the spring!” she thought gleefully.

  Scarcely had the door closed behind her when she heard footsteps outdoors. Evidently the night watchman, attracted by the light she had turned on, had come to investigate. But the man did not come in.

  “Doesn’t he have a key,” Nancy pondered, “or doesn’t he suspect an intruder’s in here?”

  All this while Nancy had continued to explore the inner room of the laboratory. She noticed that the cases contained spiders. But they were not the harmless orb weavers like those at the Booker factory.

  “They’re deadly black widows but just as useful for thread,” Nancy reflected. “Bushy Trott has courage to work with the poisonous things. I wonder what Effie would say to that.”

  Effie ! Nancy suddenly recalled her promise to go back to Pleasant Hedges. She glanced at her watch and was startled to see how late it was.

  “I must get a sample of the chemical solution in the other room, and then find my way out,” Nancy decided.

  Once more she pressed against the secret panel and it swung open. Quietly she returned to the outer room and hunted for an empty container.

  “I know!” Nancy chuckled. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”

  In her pocket were two miniature bottles, part of the March collection. Sh
e had intended to offer them to Mr. Dight, but in her haste to leave his office she had forgotten to do so.

  Though small, each receptacle was provided with a large stopper. Taking care not to wet her fingers with the chemical, Nancy filled the containers from two different tanks.

  Again she heard footsteps outside the building. What should she do? Turn off the light or leave it on?

  Nancy decided to leave it on to avoid calling further attention to herself. “But I’d better escape as soon as possible,” she thought. Then she remembered that Trott had locked all the doors. Recalling that there was another door inside the spidery, she decided to take a chance on that one.

  Again she pressed the secret spring, and the door opened. As she slid through, Nancy heard the squeal of car brakes outside. Then came the sound of running feet.

  In panic Nancy sped to the door at the far end of the spidery. She felt a momentary sense of helplessness when it would not yield, but with an extra tug it opened.

  A steep flight of steps led downward. As she groped along Nancy became aware of a cool breeze blowing across her face.

  “That’s fresh clean air!” she said to herself, trying to be calm. “This cellar must have an outside exit!”

  Inching her way, Nancy followed the stream of air. Not far ahead she saw a dim patch of light. Stumbling toward it, she came to the entrance of a low tunnel with a tiny electric bulb above it.

  “This must be the way out!” she decided.

  Bending over, Nancy crept along. The tunnel was not long. Soon the floor began to slope at a steep angle. In another dozen yards Nancy came to a heavy door with a small barred opening in it. The door was not locked from her side, so she opened it without difficulty. After closing the door which locked itself, she climbed a flight of stone steps to an alley.

  “Free!” she congratulated herself. “But what a scare!”

  Nancy stood for a moment by the factory wall. Breathing deeply of the night air, she sought to get her bearings. Some distance away she saw a street lamp and a main thoroughfare. She decided that it must be at the south boundary of the plant.

  Nancy started forward, but immediately paused. A man had just entered the alley. He held his head so low, she could not see his face. His manner of walking, however, was familiar.

  “That’s Bushy Trott!” she thought in panic. “If he catches me here, all of my night’s work may be a total loss!”

  Frantic, Nancy looked about for a hiding place in the alley. She did not want to go back to the cellar.

  “Perhaps he won’t notice me behind this gasoline drum!” she thought hopefully.

  The alleyway was in deep shadow, lighted only by the far-off street lamp at the entrance. Crouching behind the drum, Nancy waited.

  The man came nearer, and passed within a foot of Nancy but did not see her. Trott descended to the cellar passageway. A moment later Nancy heard the dull click of a lock as the heavy door swung shut.

  “Lucky I didn’t hide down there!” she thought. “Now to get home!”

  Out in the street Nancy got her bearings and headed for the convertible. As she stepped inside, the young detective breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I really must watch my step,” Nancy said to herself.

  In a short time she reached her own house. Through an unshaded window in the living room, she could see Hannah Gruen talking excitedly to her father. He was pacing the floor nervously.

  “Wonder if they’re worried about me,” Nancy thought as she unlocked the front door and hurried inside.

  “Nancy! Where have you been?” exclaimed Mr. Drew.

  Mrs. Gruen was equally relieved. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

  With a great sigh Nancy dropped to the sofa. Now that the strain was over, she realized how utterly exhausted she was.

  “I’ve had a perfectly awful experience,” she confessed. “I was locked in the Dight factory.”

  “Locked in!” her father cried.

  “Mr. Dight has a room where he keeps black widow spiders. One of the horrible things was only a few inches from my shoulder. But I’m glad I went there, just the same.”

  “I shudder to think of your taking such risks to help me, my dear,” her father said. “Come have dinner, and tell me everything.”

  While the housekeeper hurried to reheat Nancy’s meal, the young detective removed the tiny bottles of fluid from her pocket and carefully placed them on the table.

  “Here’s some of the solution from Mr. Dight’s private laboratory. It certainly looks as if he has copied Mr. Booker’s method of making the beautiful silk thread.”

  “I’ll take this sample to Mr. Booker tomorrow!” the lawyer exclaimed. “If it proves to be the same formula as his, then I can institute proceedings against Mr. Dight.”

  Nancy related her adventure in detail as she ate, then said she had promised Effie she would return to the March mansion for the night.

  “Dad, would you drive me out to Pleasant Hedges?”

  “Glad to.”

  Meanwhile at the March home Effie was growing more and more alarmed because Nancy had failed to arrive. Every time Effie heard a car on the road, she would listen and wait for it to appear, pressing her face against the windowpane and peering out through the dark pines.

  “Nancy never broke a promise to me before,” she told Mr. March. “She knows I’m scared to stay here at night without her.”

  “I’m sure something important came up,” he replied. “Better stop worrying.”

  When ten o’clock came he retired. Effie decided that it would be futile to wait longer for Nancy. Reluctantly she went to her room and prepared for bed.

  “What a dark, gloomy night!” the maid observed as she looked out a window. “Not even a moon—”

  Her thoughts on the weather ended abruptly. Beneath the window she saw a stealthy, indistinct figure move. Someone was creeping along the high, untrimmed hedge which ran beside the wing of the rambling house!

  CHAPTER XI

  The Mysterious Letter

  EFFIE tried to scream, but no sound came from her throat. She recoiled a step from the window. When the girl regained sufficient courage to look out again, the man was gone.

  Terrified, Effie leaped into bed. For a long while she lay absolutely still, the covers pulled up to her ears.

  “I locked all the doors and windows before I came to bed,” she encouraged herself. “A man couldn’t get into this place—or could he?”

  A sudden sharp breeze rattled the windows. Overhead timbers groaned.

  “Now was that the wind, or was it someone walking across a loose board?” Effie speculated.

  The maid could not sleep. She was convinced that the man she had seen outside had slipped into the house.

  “Maybe he knows a secret way to get in,” Effie tormented herself. “Maybe he’s in the house right now! Oh dear! What was that?”

  Distinctly she heard a door down the hall open with a squeak. Then footsteps with measured tread came along the hall.

  Effie could bear the suspense no longer. Though frightened half out of her wits, she tiptoed to her bedroom door and opened it a crack.

  “Oh, it’s you, Mr. March!” she exclaimed in relief, recognizing him in a moment. “I thought it was someone sneaking along the hall!” She told him of the prowling figure outside.

  “There’s no one in here,” he said. Though Mr. March himself had heard suspicious noises, he did not wish to alarm the maid. “You’d better go back to bed, Effie.”

  “I can’t sleep for thinking of Miss Nancy,” the girl wailed. “She promised to come back tonight. Oh, I hope nothing has happened to her.”

  Mr. March tried to reassure Effie. “She probably thought it was too late to phone us.”

  Satisfied, Effie returned to her bed and immediately dropped into a deep slumber. Mr. March himself felt jittery.

  “I wish Nancy had stayed here tonight,” he muttered. “I’m going upstairs.” The elderly man went to get a candle.<
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  Warily he climbed the attic stairs and looked around. There did not appear to be anyone on the third floor. He poked among the various boxes and trunks, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Both Effie and I distinctly heard sounds,” he kept telling himself.

  Finally Mr. March went downstairs and got back into bed. But he could not sleep.

  Suddenly the elderly man became aware of a car motor and voices outside. Going to a front window, he was relieved to see Nancy and her father.

  Mr. March hurried below to welcome the Drews. Nancy’s father stayed only a moment before heading back to his own home.

  “I’m sorry to be so late,” Nancy apologized. “I was delayed.”

  Soon she was listening to an account of the strange noises and the prowling figure at Pleasant Hedges.

  “But there’s no point in investigating further tonight,” he finished. “All seems quiet now, and Effie has settled down.”

  “I’m just sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” Nancy declared. “I was doing some sleuthing for Dad.”

  “You must be tired, Nancy,” Mr. March said gently. “Get some sleep and we’ll tackle this mystery again tomorrow.”

  Nancy was glad to say good night, and quickly got into bed. She fell asleep almost at once.

  As Nancy was finishing a late breakfast the next morning, Mrs. French dropped in to say good-by. “And how is my dear little Susan?” she asked. “I miss taking care of her.”

  Mr. March smiled at his old friend, who had looked after his granddaughter so lovingly. “Susan and I are going to miss you,” he said.

  “I’ll miss you,” she said. “Maybe you can visit us in our new home.”

  She went upstairs to say good-by to Susan. Mr. March followed.

  Nancy decided to go home and work on the Dight mystery. After telling Effie she would be back that afternoon, the young detective left the old mansion.

  At home she found Bess and George waiting for her. “You really move in on a mystery!” Bess teased. “We never know whether to look for you here or at the Marches’”

  “But I’m still no closer to finding the missing music,” Nancy admitted.