Mystery of the Moss-Covered Mansion (7 page)

“Like what?” Nancy asked.

Mr. Scarlett frowned. “It’s not necessary for me to go into that.”

Nancy was not ready to give up yet. She smiled. “Why are you so anxious to keep us away from the Webster property? If I were a suspicious person, I would think something wrong was going on there.”

Mr. Scarlett’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Nonsense.”

“Then why are you refusing to let me see it?”

Mr. Scarlett bit his lip. “Oh, all right,” he said. “I don’t have time to show you the place myself.” He opened the drawer and took out a key with the letter W cut into it. A tag marked Webster was attached. “Here you are,” he said icily. “But if anything is missing or disturbed, you’ll be held responsible.”

“I understand,” Nancy said.

She took the key and joined Bess and George. They said good-by to the cleaning woman and went out to the car. Nancy drove directly to the lovely house on the Indian River and the three girls went in.

“How wonderful!” Bess exclaimed, after looking around. “It’s even nicer inside than outside.”

Nancy too was charmed by the place, which was attractively furnished. The walls of the modern Spanish-type rooms were artistically decorated. In this warm climate the whole place had an air of coolness and true hospitality.

“I don’t see anything the matter with this house,” said George. “Mr. Scarlett’s opinion is for the birds.” The others agreed and all of them wondered why the realtor had tried to discourage them.

Suddenly they were startled by the same chilling scream they had heard when looking over the grounds with Mrs. Nickerson.

“There it is again!” Bess murmured. “Ugh! I wouldn’t want to live here with that gross thing next door.”

“Let’s find out what it is!” Nancy urged.

“Not me,” Bess said firmly.

“Don’t be chicken,” George chided her cousin.

Reluctantly Bess went outside and Nancy locked the door. The girls hurried toward the heavy wire-mesh fence. There was another scream, followed by a snarl.

“It’s a wild animal!” Bess whispered. “We’d better run!”

“No, Bess,” said Nancy. “If Dad decides to buy this place, we must know what’s going on next door. And I plan to find out right now. Let’s walk along the shore and investigate.”

Though Bess was fearful, she followed the others along the fence. It ran onto a peninsula beyond the Webster property. At the riverfront the fence turned left abruptly.

There was no bulkhead along the water and the earth was muddy and slippery. After a few steps Nancy, Bess, and George decided to take off their shoes and carry them. They rolled up their slacks knee-length and started across the swampy ground.

“Watch your step!” Bess warned. “No telling what we might step on—a lizard, snake or—Oh!”

She lost her balance but managed after a few gyrations with her arms to right herself. “I knew I shouldn’t have come,” she complained.

Moments later the girls reached the corner of the steel-mesh fence near the far side of the peninsula. It turned left again. The three trekked alongside through the mass of trees and bushes. They found it helpful to use the steel wire for support.

The girls had not gone far before they realized this was a real jungle. Going barelegged and bare-foot did not seem safe, so the three friends put their shoes back on and rolled down their slacks.

“When will we get to the end of this?” Bess asked impatiently. Nancy said she judged it could not be much farther to the street.

The next moment the girls stood stock-still. From inside the grounds had come a loud roar.

“That’s a lion!” George exclaimed. “Maybe this is a zoo.”

Nancy said it was certainly not a public one.

“If it were,” she surmised, “I’m sure Mrs. Nickerson would have known about it and told us. Besides, we’d have seen signs posted.”

She and George pushed ahead, with Bess at their heels, terror-stricken. She suddenly gave a cry and pointed inside the fence.

A group of large African animals was galloping among the trees toward the girls. Roars, growls, and hisses filled the air. The big beasts, having scented the newcomers, pawed and clamored at the fence to get at them. A huge black leopard eyed the intruders, then began to climb the steel mesh.

Bess screamed and cried, “Look out, George!” Her cousin stood by the fence, fascinated, as Bess ran.

Nancy backed away quickly, but through the moss-draped oaks she could see a powerful-looking man running toward them, snapping a long whip.

The cracking of it finally had an effect on the animals. All of them slunk back except the leopard. He had almost reached the top of the fence and might spring over at any second!

“Get down!” the man thundered at him.

He wore a khaki suit and helmet like those used on African safaris. Now he swung the whip against the fence. It made a ringing sound and vibrated the wire mesh.

The leopard looked at his keeper balefully, then slowly climbed down. The man kept cracking the whip in the air and against the ground until all the animals loped off among the trees.

Their master turned his attention to the girls. He asked angrily, “What are you doing here?”

“Just looking,” Nancy replied.

The man stared hard at each one of them before speaking again. “I guess I don’t have to tell you this is a dangerous place. Stay away!”

From a little distance Bess called back, “You bet we will.”

George said nothing, but Nancy asked, “Why do you have such dangerous animals here?”

“I train them and sell them to a circus.”

The young detective was surprised to hear this. She knew that few circuses own the animals which are shown. They belong to the trainers who perform with them.

“What circus do you sell them to?” she queried.

Once more the big man stared at the girl until his eyes were only slits. Finally he opened them wide and said, “Tripp Brothers.”

“Thank you,” said Nancy. “How do we get to the main road from here? Follow this fence?”

The trainer replied shortly, “Go back the way you came.”

Nancy would have preferred walking alongside the enclosure all the way to the street, but the man stood watching.

After they had traversed the full distance to where the fence turned, Nancy looked over her shoulder. The trainer was gone. She said eagerly, “Let’s turn around and follow this side to find out what we can.”

“Oh please don’t!” Bess begged. “Those animals may come after us again and the leopard jump over the fence!”

“I’m willing to take the chance. George, are you?” Nancy asked.

“Sure thing.”

Nancy took the key to the Webster house from her pocket. “Bess,” she said, “if you don’t want to come with us, why don’t you go on and wait in the house?”

Bess could see that there was no talking Nancy and George out of learning more about the jungle-like property. With a great sigh she said, “Oh, all right. I’ll tag along. But if anything happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The girls began their trek up the peninsula through the woods, following the fence. A distance ahead it suddenly turned to the left.

“The fence ends at a house!” Nancy whispered.

She and the others approached carefully and stared at the building. It was a very old mansion but large and well preserved. The walls were covered almost entirely with clinging vines and green moss. Great oak trees with long streamers of Spanish moss surrounded it, giving a weird and forbidding effect.

“A real spook house!” Bess said in a low voice. “Well, Nancy, have you seen enough? Let’s go!”

Nancy inched closer to the wire fence and peered through. She could see several large cages attached to the rear of the house. The animals that had tried to attack the girls were now in them and sleeping. At the moment the breeze was blowing toward the girls, and the animals could not pick up their scent.

Bess tugged at Nancy’s arm. “Let’s not tempt fate,” she begged. “Please come on.”

Nancy could feel Bess trembling and nodded in agreement.

Nancy wondered how far it was to the street. There seemed to be no road leading out, but she concluded there must be some way for cars and people to get in and out of the grounds.

Presently she spotted a truck off to one side. There was no name on it but she jotted down the license number.

“Here’s what I’ve been looking for,” she whispered, and pointed to a narrow road which zigzagged among the moss-covered trees.

As the girls walked along it silently, they listened for sounds of anyone approaching and watched the ground to avoid any holes. George, however, sank down in a soft spot. Her feet were sucked in so quickly she could not pull them out.

After trying for several moments she called out, “Girls, come and help me! I’m stuck!”

It took the combined efforts of Nancy and Bess to pull George out of the oozy mass. She looked down at her shoes which had changed from white to brown.

“I’m sure a mess!” she said. “The sooner I can get into a tub the better I’ll like it.” She thanked her rescuers who could not help laughing at George’s appearance. Mud was splattered over her clothes, hair, and face.

A few feet farther on, the ground was harder and the girls quickened their pace. As they zigzagged along the curving road, the three grew careless about being watchful.

Nancy suddenly pulled back and bumped against George. The others looked to see what had startled her. A snake had begun to unwind itself from a tree branch and was trying to reach Nancy with its forked tongue!

She recovered her wits quickly and said, “He won’t harm us if we don’t bother him.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Bess, and took a circuitous route to avoid the reptile.

In a few moments the girls came to a small orange grove. As they hurried through it, Bess picked one of the luscious-looking fruit and put it into her pocket.

“In case I get hungry,” she explained to the others.

A few minutes later the girls reached another bit of jungle-like area. If it had not been for the roadway, they would have found it hard going through stout reeds and brier bushes. At last the street came into sight.

Nancy, in the lead, suddenly called back in a whisper, “Hide!”

“QUICK!” said Nancy, ducking behind a brier bush. “Mr. Scarlett is just outside in a car!”

Bess and George squatted down too. The three remained very still, not making a sound.

Mr. Scarlett got out of his car and walked up and down, looking and listening. The girls were puzzled by his actions. Perhaps someone had seen them going toward the moss-covered mansion and had reported this to him.

In a few minutes the realtor seemed satisfied about something. He got back into his car. Then, to the girls’ amazement, he drove toward them along the winding path. They crouched lower behind the tall bushes. His car soon disappeared but they could hear the motor. Seconds later it was shut off approximately where the house would be.

“He must know the animal trainer,” Nancy thought.

She and her friends came from hiding. Nancy wanted to go back to the moss-covered mansion but Bess objected. “I think we’ve had enough adventures for one day. Besides, George is a mess. Please, let’s return to the Billingtons.”

As they walked down the street toward the Webster house to get their car, the girls discussed Scarlett’s furtive behavior. Why had he come to the mansion with the wild-animal enclosure?

“He’s hiding something, that’s sure,” George declared. “Nancy, if you see him again, are you going to ask him why he was here?”

“No, George. I believe we can find out more by having him think we didn’t see him.”

When they reached home Hannah Gruen met them at the kitchen door. “My word, George, where have you been?” she cried out. “Did you fall in the water?”

“I wish I had,” said George. “I’d have been better off.” Quickly she explained about their sleuthing trip to the moss-covered mansion.

The housekeeper was aghast. “The place sounds dreadful. You had better not go there again.”

Bess said, “You can bet I’m not going to.”

She pulled the orange from her pocket, and told Hannah she had taken it from a tree at the strange house.

“This isn’t the same kind as Mr. Billington’s,” Bess said. “Do you suppose it’s a Hamlin, the same as the oranges that were delivered to the Space Center?”

The thought intrigued Nancy. On a bookshelf she had noticed a volume marked Oranges and went to get it. The book was filled with color pictures and one by one she compared Bess’s orange with those in the book.

“This is not a Valencia,” she said, “because it’s the wrong time of year for that kind of tree to be bearing. The fruit’s ripe in the spring. Mr. Billington’s, as you know, are Pineapple Oranges. Remember their bright-orange skin and pineappley shape?” Nancy turned the page and exclaimed, “Here it is! The oranges at the moss-covered mansion are not Hamlins but Parson Browns. Hamlins have a smooth skin while the Parson Browns are pebbly-skinned.”