She raced forward, feeling a chill in her bones, while Ned observed a woman peering through the window in the door. The light behind her suddenly went out and she pulled the shade down.
9
Cabin Captive
As Nancy and Ned leaped up the steps, Nancy dived for the cabin door, pounding on it with her fists.
“Hello-o,” she cried, ignoring the drawn shade.
“If this is supposed to be a popular retreat,” Ned said, “there sure doesn’t seem to be much activity around here.”
“Maybe everybody’s meditating,” Nancy suggested.
But as she spoke, the doorknob turned and opened, revealing the woman again.
“I don’t want no more people staying here,” she snapped.
Nancy told her that they were looking for Ramaswami.
“Who?” the woman asked.
“The swami,” Ned repeated. “Do you know of him?”
“Not personally. But a bunch of people got turned away from his place because it was full up, so they came here.”
“When was this?” Nancy inquired.
“Last weekend,” the woman said. “They stayed here one night. Paid me, of course, but what a mess they left—dirty dishes everywhere.”
“Where exactly is the swami’s retreat?” Ned questioned.
“Stay on that trail,” the woman replied, pointing to an opening in the woods behind the cabin. “You can’t miss it, and when you see Mr. Swami, tell him I don’t want any more visitors ! ”
She closed the door on Nancy and Ned. The rain had ended, leaving puddles of water in the softened earth which the couple now treaded across. The warming rays of the sun that began to emerge penetrated their wet clothes, making their clothing more tolerable as they walked in the woods.
“Are you with me?” Nancy said to Ned in a half-teasing voice.
“What do you think?” came the reply.
“Well, for a minute there I thought—” But Nancy did not have a chance to finish talking.
There was a scuffle of feet and the sound of branches breaking, which caused her to halt quickly.
In that split second before she could see what had happened to Ned, hands grabbed her waist and a scarf saturated with a strange honey-sweet fluid was stuffed in her mouth. She yanked her body forward, struggling to free herself, but the pungent odor soon overwhelmed her and Nancy fell limp against her attackers.
Meanwhile, Bess and George had finished their shopping excursion a bit earlier than they had anticipated.
“Why don’t we pay a visit to Cliff?” Bess suggested to her cousin. “I’m sure he’d like to have some company.”
George agreed, and after the girls dropped off their mothers at home, they headed for the Drew house. When they rang the doorbell, however, Hannah did not answer it.
“That’s odd,” George commented.
“Maybe Hannah went shopping, too,” Bess replied.
“Even so, I’m surprised Cliff doesn’t hear the bell,” George said. “Of course, he could be sleeping.”
As the girls headed for the driveway again, they saw Hannah Gruen coming up the walk with a shopping cart filled with groceries.
“I told you so.” Bess giggled and called out to the housekeeper. “We just stopped by to see Cliff.”
“Oh, and having done so, you’re leaving now, before I’ve even had a chance to give you a piece of cake,” Hannah said, halting the cart.
“On the contrary,” Bess replied. “We haven’t seen Cliff at all. We rang the bell, but he didn’t answer it.”
The housekeeper appeared perplexed. “He must still be sleeping.”
Everyone stepped inside the hallway. Hannah set her packages down in the kitchen, then went upstairs. Cliff’s room was empty!
“Cliff?” she called out.
There was no response.
“Will you girls check downstairs for him, while I look around up here?” Hannah asked Bess and George.
They darted from room to room, glancing through windows to see if perhaps he had gone outside. They panicked as they realized that the young amnesia victim had disappeared!
“This is terrible, terrible!” Hannah cried. “I wasn’t out of this house more than an hour. Oh, what if something has happened to him? It’s all my fault! ”
The girls tried to comfort the woman, wishing that Nancy were there and wondering what to do next.
“Let’s call the police,” Bess declared nervously.
“Good idea,” George said, dashing to the hall telephone. But she picked it up and put it down instantly. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” she said. “After all, there’s no sign of a break-in anywhere, and Hannah, you locked all the doors before you left, didn’t you?”
“Yes—oh, certainly.”
“Well, then, it seems to me that Cliff may have simply decided to go for a walk.”
Somehow, though, that did not seem likely to Bess.
“I suggest we wait a little while before calling the police,” George went on.
“But what if you’re wrong?” Bess replied anxiously.
“If I’m wrong, then I’m wrong.”
“That’s the craziest logic I ever heard,” Bess said, racing to the telephone.
“Okay, suit yourself,” George said, stepping away from her cousin. “But you’re going to feel really foolish when Cliff walks in the door.”
Hannah, in the meantime, had paid little attention to the banter between the girls. She sat frozen in her chair, hearing Nancy’s earlier request repeat itself in her mind.
“No matter what,” the girl detective had told the housekeeper, “please don’t leave Cliff alone while I’m gone today.”
But the refrigerator needed replenishment and Hannah had attended to the errand as quickly as she could, when she was unable to persuade the local store to make a delivery.
“The police are coming over right away,” Bess said now, drawing Hannah out of her stupor.
“Thank goodness,” she answered vaguely. “Someone must find Cliff before Nancy comes home.”
The young detective, however, lay bound on the damp floor of a cabin, near an old iron stove. The odor of mildew that cloyed the air had replaced that of the insidious drug, and Nancy’s eyes flickered open.
She was at once aware of the sweet, antiseptic taste in her mouth and the fact that the scarf had been removed. She lifted her head, then let it sink back as a dull ache thudded through her skull.
Where am I? And where’s Ned? she wondered dizzily.
The log ceiling dripped water now, sprinkling Nancy’s face unevenly and causing her to slide out from under the leak. As she moved, she noticed something dark and slippery crawling over a crack in the floor. It was moving slowly, steadily toward her. A water snake!
Completely helpless, she shrieked in horror, but the sound caught in her throat and she continued to drag herself away from the creature.
“Oh!” Nancy cried as the viper raised its head, poised for a venomous strike.
Instantly, the girl swung her knees up, catching the rubber soles of her sneakers in a loose floorboard. To her amazement, it popped up and made the crack split wider. The snake plunged forward, tumbling into the pit of earth below.
Despite her relief, Nancy shivered, gazing through a rain-spattered window overhead. The sky was dark now, and even if she could loosen the rope around her wrists and ankles, she wondered if she could escape.
Her log prison was surrounded by tall trees, and without the benefit of the sun, she had no idea where she was nor how she could find her way to Swain Lake Lodge.
The other, more troubling thought was, What had happened to her friend, Ned Nickerson? Where had their abductors taken him?
I have to find Ned! I must! Nancy thought with determination.
10
Ned’s Rescue
At the same time, Bess and George were talking with a young policeman in the Drew living room. Although the River Heights Police Department had a descr
iption of Cliff on file, the officer requested additional information.
“Since the young man has been staying here,” the officer said, “has he undergone any physical changes?”
“Hardly,” Hannah remarked from a corner chair. “He came here only today.”
“Oh, I see,” the policeman said, clearing his throat. “Well, did he say anything at all that might give a clue to where he went? Judging merely from the looks of things, I’d say he might have left voluntarily.”
George flashed an I-told-you-so glance at her cousin.
“Do you suppose he could have gone back to the hospital for some reason?” Bess suggested.
“Now why would he do that?” George muttered.
As she spoke, the policeman was examining a spot on the carpet which the others had overlooked near the entranceway.
“Chloroform,” he said crisply.
His listeners gasped. “Then Cliff was kidnapped!” Bess exclaimed.
“But the front door was locked when we got here,” George pointed out.
“Maybe Cliff recognized the person and let him in,” Hannah put in.
“Or maybe—” the policeman said, heading for the back door. Bess and the others trailed after him. “Just as I thought,” the young officer concluded. He pointed to a hole in the kitchen screen door.
The cousins now stepped outside, pinning their eyes to the ground for footprints.
“There! Look there!” George cried as prints loomed from the driveway. They traveled across the dampened grass to the back steps.
“He must’ve been very tall,” Bess said, observing the long stride and large footprints.
While the mystery of Cliffs disappearance had not been resolved, Nancy, too, was seeking an answer to freedom. She twisted her arms, causing the rope to cut into her wrists, but steeled herself against the pain, looking for something, anything with which to sever the rope.
There! she gasped, spotting a thick nail that protruded from the base of the wall. It wasn’t much, but it might work!
The young captive pulled close, hooking the rope over the iron head. Back and forth she rubbed the twine, hoping to wear down the strong threads, but they held firm.
I’ll never get out of here! Nancy moaned.
Her arms ached now, and she lay back against the wall, intending to relax only for a minute, but instead falling fast asleep. When she awoke, two birds were chirping on the window ledge above and the sky had begun to lighten.
Morning had come, and Nancy had lost precious time in her search for Ned. Although the hours of rest had given her renewed energy, her body felt stiff and she longed for freedom even more.
Again she worked on the rope, stopping only when she heard the sound of footsteps outside the cabin.
Was it her captor? the girl wondered.
Panic-stricken, she froze and quietly lifted the rope off the nail.
Who is it? she thought anxiously as the door creaked open, revealing muddy sneakers and blue jeans.
“Ned!” she cried happily.
“Nancy, are you all right?” he asked immediately.
As Nancy spouted several questions, Ned began cutting the rope at her feet with a penknife. The rope binding Nancy’s wrists did not sever so easily, but after several minutes of steady pressure, it, too, came free.
“Your wrists—” Ned murmured when he saw the deep red bruises.
“I’m fine,” Nancy insisted, even though she felt a twinge of pain. “Really I am, Ned.”
But the boy suspected otherwise.
“Forget me. Tell me what happened to you,” the girl went on. She got to her feet slowly, with Ned’s help.
“They dumped me in another shelter a few yards from here,” he said, adding, “I still have a throbbing headache from the chloroform.”
“They must’ve given you an extra dose,” Nancy commented. “I didn’t see who the men were. Did you?”
“Nope, and so far as I know they never came to check on me.”
Nancy paused momentarily as they stepped outside into the sunlight. “I just don’t get it—why us?” she said.
“Maybe someone doesn’t want us to find the retreat,” Ned suggested, a thought that had occurred to Nancy as well.
“But why?” she repeated. “Retreats are places for quiet and meditation, not for trouble.”
Nancy linked her arm into Ned‘s, leaning on him until the stiffness in her legs had passed. Although she would have liked to continue the hunt for the swami’s retreat, she knew that she must get home quickly. The Drew household would have realized Nancy had not come home and they would be frantic.
“How far do you think we are from the lodge?” the girl asked Ned.
“I have no idea, but my guess is that we’re at least a mile away.”
The thought of the long trudge back through the same tangled woods made Nancy groan. But as the sun’s warmth enveloped her again, she smiled.
“At least we don’t have to swim through another flood,” she remarked, letting Ned lead the way when the trail narrowed to a thin footpath.
By the time they reached the lodge, they realized that they had returned along a different route. But where it lay in relation to the one they had taken the day before remained a mystery.
“I wonder if there’s a road to the retreat,” the young detective said as they headed for the car. “Maybe I ought to ask Mr. Lal.” And without giving Ned a chance to reply, she raced into the building.
There were different clerks on duty, however, and when she asked for the Indian man, she was informed that he was not in and wouldn’t be back for a few days.
Nancy returned to the car, reporting the little she had learned.
“Don’t worry,” Ned said. “We’ll track that retreat down eventually.”
“I hope so,” Nancy replied. She lapsed into silence, saying no more on the subject until they were inside the Drew home. Then, before Hannah or Mr. Drew could reveal their news, the couple spilled out their story in detail.
“By the way, where’s Cliff?” Nancy inquired when she finished speaking.
“Oh, Nancy, please don’t blame me,” Hannah pleaded, causing the girl’s face to close in fear.
“Has something happened to him?” she asked.
“We don’t know,” Mr. Drew replied.
“He’s been kidnapped! ” Hannah blurted out. “Someone came in while I went food shopping and took him! ”
The woman fixed her eyes steadily on the girl. “Bess and George were here, too, when we found out he was missing. We called the police right away.”
As the reality of what had occurred sank in, Nancy sat down next to her father. “This is awful,” she said. “I should never have left the house.”
“Nothing else was taken,” Hannah remarked.
“Only Cliff,” Nancy murmured dejectedly.
The housekeeper bit her lips as a rim of tears developed in her eyes. “Excuse me, everybody,” she said, and left the room.
“Maybe I should go too,” Ned said. “I’ll call you later, Nancy.”
The girl stared at her father for some offer of advice. “I don’t know what to suggest, dear,” he said. “I’m sure the police will find Cliff.”
“But he was our responsibility, Dad,” Nancy answered.
She telephoned Bess and George, and after they agreed to meet her for lunch at a downtown restaurant, Nancy decided to talk with the Drews’ neighbors.
To her delight, she learned that the son of one couple had noticed a car speeding away from the Drew home the previous afternoon.
“Cool car,” the boy said. “Stripes and everything.”
“Did you notice the license plate?” Nancy asked excitedly.
“I noticed everything,” he said, repeating the number. “197-MAP.”
By now, Nancy’s heart was pounding as she wondered if the vehicle was the one she had seen at Rosemont Hospital and the one that might have caused Tommy Johnson’s accident!
She raced back t
o her house and telephoned the information to the police, who promptly fed it into a computer. It was only a matter of minutes before the girl had an answer.
“We have traced the owner of the car,” the officer reported. “His name is Dev Singh. He lives near the river.”
Nancy quickly jotted down the address, eager to reveal the discovery to her friends.
What intrigued her most, however, was the man’s name. Was he from India? If so, might he be the man who had accompanied the bearded stranger to Mr. Jhaveri’s shop?
11
Cancellation!
While Nancy stared at the unusual name she had written on a notepad, she also noticed a bright yellow flier poking through the morning mail on the hall table. It was an announcement from the River Heights Music Festival, which she opened quickly.
“Canceled?” she said, mystified, as her eyes fell on the large stamp mark that obliterated the names of several artist groups, including the Jansen Theater Troupe, which was scheduled to perform that evening.
I wonder if Dad knows about this, the girl detective thought.
Carson Drew, however, had already left for a business appointment, and the only way she could get some answers was to go to the River Heights Theater herself. Taking a quick glance at her watch, she pocketed the flier and dashed to her car.
It was no surprise to Nancy when she arrived that at least thirty ticket holders to the festival had begun to descend on the box office. Many of them were carrying the cancellation notice and complaining angrily.
“Excuse me,” the girl found herself saying over and over as she weaved through the crowd now queuing up into long lines.
“Hey, kid,” one man snarled at Nancy when she stepped in front of him. “Where do you think you’re going? I was here first.”
“I only want to find out where the manager is,” Nancy insisted.
“Don’t we all,” he replied, as a tall, angular man strode into view.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am Mr. Hillyer, the manager,” he said, “and I want you to know that none of the performances have been canceled. The notice is a mistake—”
“I’ll say it was!” one irritated woman cut in loudly, causing the people around her to echo the complaint.
The Swami's Ring Page 5
