Ghost Stories, #2 (Nancy Drew)

by Carolyn Keene

  The girls climbed out of the car. Bess was reluctant, but followed without saying another word. They ran into the bushes, where they heard twigs snapping ahead of them.

  "There he is!" Nancy cried. "Come on!"

  They plunged deeper into the underbrush, but the going was slow because of the thick foliage. Suddenly, they heard a motor roar to life. A car started up, then

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  the noise grew faint and died away in tlie distance.

  "He was prepared for a quick getaway," Nancy said in disappointment as they made their way back to the road.

  Just then, George bent down and picked something up from the ground. **Look at this!" she exclaimed.

  "A slingshot!" Bess said, after examining the object. "The man fired the stone from a slingshot! If it was a man," she added.

  George nodded. "It could have been a woman. We don't know yet."

  "I really have no great desire to find out," Bess muttered.

  Nancy put an arm around her friend. "Oh, come on. We've had worse things happen to us before."

  "That's true," Bess admitted. Then she laughed. "All right, let's go see Mrs. Campbell!"

  Half an hour later, the girls turned into a long driveway leading to a large, white-framed house with black shutters. It was quite a distance from the road and hidden by a clump of trees. A red barn stood off to one side, and a duck pond, fringed with waterlilies, stretched out in front.

  "An old-fashioned farmhouse!" Bess cried. "It's very pretty!"

  Mrs. Campbell, a chubby woman with curly, gray hair, greeted the girls at the door and ushered them onto her back porch. "I'm so glad you came," she said. "Please sit down. I have some lemonade and snacks ready for you in the kitchen. Make yourselves comfortable while I get them."

  Bess's eyes lit up. She loved to eat, and when she bit

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  into a homemade piece of pecan pie a few minutes later, she was as eager to hear about the mystery as George and Nancy.

  "It all happened ten years ago," Mrs. Campbell began. "That's when my husband inherited this house from his father and we moved from our apartment in River Heights. We had some valuable heirlooms, and the moving company foreman, Mr. Becker, drove them in his own car."

  "What kind of heirlooms?" Bess inquired.

  "We had a Paul Revere silver tea service, a priceless heirloom, and flatware crafted by Hester Bateman, the great English silversmith of the eighteenth century. Things like that."

  "Oh, I'd love to see them!" George exclaimed.

  "They're gone," Mrs. Campbell said sadly. "Mr. Becker was hijacked on the way over here. The hijackers took them from his car, put them in their van and got away."

  "Maybe he stole them himself!" George spoke up.

  "Nobody knows," Mrs. Campbell replied. "The police were suspicious and got his fingerprints. When they checked their records, they found he was wanted for armed robbery!

  "This was another case, though," Mrs. Campbell continued, "not ours! Becker has been in prison ever since, convicted of that crime. But he never admitted he took our heirlooms, and we have never recovered them."

  "You mentioned a ghost when you spoke to my dad," Nancy put in. "Can you tell us about that?"

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  Mrs. Campbell took a faded envelope from the pocket of her jacket and handed it to the girl. Inside was a note, printed in blue crayon.

  *' 'Ghost guards treasure where entrance leads to darkness,' " Nancy read. "What does this mean?"

  "I have no idea. I found it when I was tidying the attic. It was on the floor under an old trunk that had not been moved since we got here. I have a feeling that the treasure mentioned in this letter refers to our heirlooms. But I can't figure out where the ghost is that guards an entrance leading into darkness."

  "Becker could have dropped this note," Nancy reasoned. "Maybe he hid the heirlooms, then reported them stolen. He could have written the note for an accomplice, but dropped it by mistake."

  Mrs. Campbell nodded. "That's what I thought. But do you have any—" She stopped when Nancy suddenly jumped up and rushed across the porch. The young detective had spotted a furtive figure in the hedge, spying on them! She hurried to the spot, but the eavesdropper had already dashed across the backyard next door and ducked into the woods.

  Nancy followed, but soon lost his trail and returned to the porch.

  "Someone else was anxious to hear about your mystery," she told Mrs. Campbell. "Too bad he got away before I could see what he looked like."

  "Do you think he overheard our conversation?" Bess asked worriedly.

  Nancy shook her head. "No. He was too far away. But I bet that's what he came for!" She thought of the

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  incident on the road but did not mention it to their hostess. She did not want to further upset the woman.

  Mrs. Campbell stood up. "That hedge divides my property from my neighbor's, Mr. Hansen," she declared. "I'd better let him know there was a prowler around."

  "If we're lucky, Mr. Hansen was looking out the window just now and saw more of that man than I did," Nancy said hopefully.

  A few minutes after Mrs. Campbell called her neighbor, a stocky man with beady brown eyes and an impressive black mustache came over from the house next door. "I'm George Hansen," he introduced himself to the girls as he walked up the steps. He shook hands with everyone, a friendly smile on his face.

  "I thought I'd come over and talk to you," he went on. "I'm worried about that prowler. I wonder what he could have been after."

  Nancy shrugged. "Did you happen to see him, Mr. Hansen?"

  The man shook his head. "No. But I bet this has something to do with Mrs. Campbell's mystery."

  Nancy was surprised to hear that the woman had told anyone else about her problem, but did not comment. Instead, she turned to her hostess. "Would you mind if we look around the house a bit?" she inquired. "Perhaps we'll find another clue."

  "Oh, no, go right ahead," Mrs. Campbell said, then poured a glass of lemonade for Mr. Hansen.

  The young detectives excused themselves and began

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  a systematic search of the house. They inspected the attic, a huge, dusty area with boxes and suitcases piled high in one corner. Then they worked their way through every room until they ended up in the basement. There they found a cluttered assortment of old furniture and appliances. None of it seemed to have been touched in years.

  The girls sighed and set to work, shiftiilg all the pieces and looking for anything that might give them an idea of where the heirlooms could be.

  'T'm going to lose five pounds doing all this heavy work!" Bess said, rubbing her forehead and spreading the dust into her blonde hair.

  'That'll be terrific!" George quipped, glancing at her cousin's plump figure. "Only trouble is, you'll gain it all back at dinner time!"

  Bess made a face. "Why don't you come over here and help me move this book case?" she said. "Nancy, you, too. This job will require all three of us."

  When the girls managed to slide the heavy piece of furniture to one side, Bess noticed the outline of a rectangle about five-by-three feet in the cement floor underneath. There was an iron ring at one end of the panel. "A trapdoor!" she cried out. "Look!"

  "You just made a great discovery," Nancy declared. She pulled on the ring, but it was stuck tight.

  George saw a crowbar lying in one corner and picked it up. "Try this," she suggested.

  Nancy pushed the crowbar through the ring. Slowly she pried up the metal panel and lifted it to one side. A flight of stone steps were leading into darkness!

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  "It's pitch black," Bess said. "We're not going down there, are we?"

  Nancy pulled her pencil flashlight out of her pocket. "Yes, we are," she said. "Don't worry, I'll go first."

  Cautiously, she descended step-by-step into the darkness below. The stairs were damp, and she struggle
d to keep her footing. Suddenly a hand reached out and clutched her shoulder!

  With a muffled cry, Nancy spun around.

  "It's only me," George gasped. "Sorry. I almost lost my balance."

  At the bottom of the stone steps was a small room with brick walls. It was empty, and there was no other access besides the way they had come.

  "I wonder what this was used for," Nancy said.

  "Well, the heirlooms certainly aren't here," Bess declared.

  "Neither is a ghost," George chuckled.

  The words made Bess shiver. "Let's go back and ask Mrs. Campbell about this place," she said and was the first to hurry up the stairs.

  Their hostess was still sitting on the porch talking to her neighbor. When the girls told her about the secret room they had found, she frowned. "I had no idea it was there," she said. "There are many stories about this old house. One has it that smugglers once used it. The ringleader was an ancestor of my husband. Maybe he built the room to hide his contraband, or his men."

  "At first we thought the cryptic message you found referred to that room," George spoke up. "But I guess it was a false clue."

  "Crypt," Nancy repeated thoughtfully. "Maybe that's

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  it! Mrs. Campbell, do you have a family crypt in the Bayport Cemetery?"

  "Why, yes," the woman replied. ''But it hasn't been opened in twenty years!"

  "I wonder if your heirlooms could be hidden there," the girl speculated. "The word ghost could refer to the cemetery, and the entrance leading to darkness could be the door!"

  "This is beginning to sound like a tale by Edgar Allan Poe!" Mrs. Campbell said with a smile. "But if you want to check it out, go right ahead."

  She went into the kitchen and returned with a rusty old key. "The crypt is almost at the end, on the left," she said.

  Bess took the key, looked at it curiously, then put it in her purse. "Come on," she said in an uncommon spurt of courage. "Let's see if we can find the treasure."

  The three girls went out through the front door. Mr. Hansen, who had finished his lemonade, said good-bye to Mrs. Campbell and retraced his steps across his backyard.

  George volunteered to drive this time, and Nancy sat next to her. She turned to Bess, who was in the back, and said, "Let me have a look at that key, will you?"

  Bess pulled it out of her purse and handed it to Nancy. "It's really old," the young detective said. "It has Campbell Crypt, River Heights Cemetery embossed on it." After inspecting the key thoroughly, Nancy put it in her pocketbook. "It's getting dark," she observed. "I'm glad it's a clear night, and there's a full moon. At least we'll be able to find our way."

  Bess began to regret having suggested that they go to

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  the cemetery, but she didn't say anything. By the time they arrived, the moon threw a silvery light through the trees. The mournful call of a night owl made the girls shiver. But they left their car at the entrance and bravely walked through the massive gate.

  A chilly breeze had replaced the heat of the afternoon, and it wafted the scent of flowers in the girls' nostrils. The trees, swaying in the wind, took on grotesque shapes and towered like giant black spirits above the graves.

  "This place isn't my idea of fun," Bess complained in a whisper. "Maybe we should come back tomorrow."

  "No, it's easier to scout around now," Nancy said. "There are no people here who might get the wrong idea."

  The marble crypts, each with its own quota of flowers and shrubs, gleamed silver as the moon rose higher. They were an eerie sight.

  Cautiously, the friends walked down the center path. Every step they took on the gravel sounded loud in the spooky silence. Ghostlike statues, interspersed among the graves, seemed to move in the breeze.

  Suddenly a sepulchral voice thundered through the cemetery. "Nancy Dreeeeeeew! Beware! I am a Campbell who has risen from the grave to warn you! Leave this cemetery at once or you will be in great danger!"

  Nancy, Bess, and George stood stockstill, dumbfounded.

  "N-Nancy, let's go!" Bess urged.

  "No way!" the young detective replied. "This is no ghost, just someone trying to scare us."

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  "Well, he's succeeded," Bess declared. "I'm leaving."

  *'Okay, you go back to the car and wait for us," Nancy suggested. "If you see anything funny, honk the horn!"

  Bess turned without another word and hurried away. Nancy and George pressed on. They were sure that the crypt was not far away. Suddenly George grabbed Nancy's hand. "Did you hear that?" she whispered.

  "Yes. Someone tried to cry, but it was kind of muffled," Nancy agreed. "Maybe it was Bess. We'd better see if she's okay."

  As the girls turned to retrace their steps, the sepulchral voice could be heard again. "Nancy Dreeeeew! Leave at once. Go, or you will not get out of here alive!"

  "I'm getting worried," George said.

  Nancy nodded. "Let's go to the car and see if Bess is there."

  But when the girls arrived at Nancy's blue sedan, Bess Marvin was nowhere in sight.

  "That muffled cry came from over there," Nancy said when the girls had returned to the center path. She took George's hand, and together the girls began to search for their friend.

  "Bess?" George called out. "Bess, where are you?"

  There was no reply.

  A lump formed in Nancy's stomach. What had happened to Bess? Suddenly there was a slight movement behind a statue to their left. "George, over there!" Nancy hissed.

  Cautiously, the girls walked toward the spot, their eyes riveted on the statue.

  "Bess?" Nancy called out again.

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  Suddenly she felt something hitting her in the back, and she pitched forward. The next moment, she tumbled into a deep, black hole!

  Out of the corner of her eye, George saw a dark figure, wearing a mask, push her friend. She realized that they were just at the edge of an open grave. Before the man could attack her, she lashed out with a well-aimed karate chop. He flew backward, and rolled over, then sprang to his feet again. With a grunt, he rushed at George, but she evaded him skillfully, poised for another strike.

  The man realized he had an opponent whose agility he could not match. He managed to get out of George's way and ran toward the gate.

  George turned and looked for her friend. "Nancy?" she cried out.

  "Down here," Nancy replied.

  George stared into the open grave. "Bess!" she exclaimed.

  "That man gagged her and dumped her in this hole," Nancy explained. "Help pull her out." She hoisted the blonde girl up, and Bess, once she was safe, slumped down on the grass with a sigh. Nancy, meanwhile, found a foothold and, grasping George's hand tightly, managed to climb out of the empty grave.

  "Whew!" she said. "Someone wants to keep us away from that crypt, that's for sure!"

  Just then, the girls heard a car start in the distance. "He chickened out," Nancy said with a grin. "George, how'd you get him to run?"

  "Karate," George said. "He was a bit on the heavy

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  side and not too agile, and I managed to flatten him. He wore a mask so we wouldn't recognize him. Maybe he figured it was better to run than to risk having his mask pulled off in a fight."

  "Good work!" Nancy hugged her friend with glee.

  "You're not continuing this search, are you?" Bess asked, getting up from the grass. "I'm in no shape to—"

  "Sure you are," Nancy said. "The guy's gone. Now is the time. Come on, girls!"

  Reluctantly, George and Bess followed Nancy to the Campbell crypt. It was a large structure, about twelve feet square and six feet high, with the family name carved on marble above the door.

  Nancy took the key from her handbag, inserted it, and opened the door. It swung inward with an eerie creak.

  She shined her light on the musty interior, and the girls stepped farther into the crypt. Marble slab
s holding coffins lined the walls.

  Nancy played the beam of her flashlight over them, then let it rest on a coffin that stood on the floor toward the left, underneath a marble slab. Its lid was slightly ajar!

  "I don't see Mrs. Campbell's treasure," George whispered. "Only her relatives!"

  "Wait a minute," Nancy said. "See that coffin on the floor? It has no name plate on it like the others. And its top isn't on tight!"

  "You're not going to open that coffin!" Bess objected. "Are you out of your mind?"

  But Nancy had already grabbed the coffin and pulled

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  it out from under the slab. She pushed up the lid, and the three girls stared in amazement. Inside the box were objects wrapped in cloth!

  George pulled one out and removed its cover. It was a silver sugar bowl!

  "Nancy!" Bess breathed. "You found Mrs. Campbell's heirlooms!"

  "Not without your help," Nancy replied. "If—"

  She stopped suddenly at a loud, creaking noise behind them. All three girls whirled around and saw the door being shut. A moment later, hollow laughter rang through the crypt. "Hahaha! You did not heed my warning. Now you will soon be dead, along with the Campbells and the smugglers I locked in the secret room those many years ago! Good-bye, Nancy Dreeeeeeeeeew!"

  "T-that man d-didn't leave after all!" Bess whispered. "He's locked us in!"

  George bit her lip. "We were so sure that he was gone that we left the key in the lock. That wasn't very smart."

  "True," Nancy admitted. "We really goofed!"

  "What'U we do now?" Bess asked worriedly.

  Nancy played her light over the door. "We'll never be able to get it open," she said.

  "That means we're trapped!" Tears began to well up in Bess's eyes.

  "Don't worry, we'll find a way out," Nancy said firmly. But she sounded much more confident than she felt. "Let's check this place out inch by inch," she went on. "Maybe we'll find a loose slab of marble we can remove and squeeze through."