The Clue in the Diary (6 page)

Nancy wondered what would be the best way in which to broach the plan to Mrs. Swenson about the “feast.”

“Well, here goes!” Nancy thought. “If she refuses, there’s nothing the girls and I can do except return home.”

 

 

 

AFTER outlining her plan for the supper party, Nancy waited expectantly for Mrs. Swenson’s response. During the moment of silence, she clearly read the woman’s thoughts. She was battling with her pride.

“How kind of you to take an interest in us!” Mrs. Swenson said at last. “I appreciate it more than I can tell you.”

“Then I may go ahead with my shopping?” Nancy asked eagerly.

“Yes, it will be wonderful to have a ‘feast,’ as you call it. We haven’t had one since my husband left.” Mrs. Swenson caught herself quickly, and said, “Joe is away looking for work. I’m sure he’ll send me money in a few days and then I can repay you for—”

“Oh, but this is a special party,” Nancy interrupted gaily. “You mustn’t think of repaying me.”

During the ride to town, Mrs. Swenson seldom spoke. She leaned wearily against the cushion, a half-smile playing over her pale face. Her weary blue eyes were kind, but the privations brought on by poverty and worry had stamped grim lines about her mouth.

Nancy parked the convertible on the main street of Sandy Creek and insisted that Mrs. Swenson assist her in selecting the food for the feast. They chose a quantity of staples, then Nancy added as many luxuries as she could afford —ice cream, a thick juicy steak, fresh fruit and vegetables, cake and an assortment of melons.

“You’re buying enough to last a week!” Mrs. Swenson declared.

That was exactly what Nancy had intended to do. Not until she had practically exhausted her funds would she listen to the other’s protests.

“If it weren’t for Honey, I never would permit you to spend money on us,” Mrs. Swenson said as they climbed into the car. “We’re not accustomed to accepting charity. When my husband was employed, we lived well. We should still be well off if he hadn’t been cheated out of his rights!”

This gave Nancy an opening, and as they drove back toward Riverwood Cottage she diplomatically questioned the woman. Mrs. Swenson, however, revealed very little about her husband. She seemed eager to impress Nancy with his kindness, rather than his apparent irresponsibility.

“Joe has always been good to me and he adores Honey. Some folks say he’s lazy, but that isn’t true. He’s always worked—harder than most folks. He’s an inventor, and if he hadn’t been cheated out of his patents, we’d be wealthy—”

She broke off as the convertible turned a corner and a voice called out, “Hi, Nancy!”

“Ned Nickerson!” she exclaimed, and pulled to the curb behind Ned’s parked car.

With a pleased grin which spread over his entire face, Ned jumped from behind the wheel and came hurrying toward the convertible.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Oh, just prowling about.” Nancy laughed. She introduced Mrs. Swenson, then said, “What are
you
doing in Sandy Creek?”

“On an errand for my mother. I’m about to rush home for something to eat. I’m nearly starved.”

“Better come with us,” Nancy proposed impetuously. “We’re having a feast at Mrs. Swenson’s.”

Ned accepted the invitation without an instant’s hesitation, and promised to follow in his car as soon as he had phoned home.

It was only a short distance to the cottage, and Mrs. Swenson showed no inclination to resume the interrupted conversation. Nancy had hoped that she would tell more about her husband’s work, but the woman did not volunteer any additional information.

“I’ll talk to Mrs. Swenson about it before I leave the cottage,” Nancy promised herself. “I must get to the bottom of the mystery.”

The few hints that Mrs. Swenson had dropped only served to trouble Nancy further. Since Joe Swenson was an inventor, it seemed reasonable that he had gone to Mr. Raybolt to retrieve something of his. If no one were home, he might have become a housebreaker, then an arsonist. Nancy suddenly chided herself.

“I mustn’t have such thoughts! Time enough to draw conclusions when I’ve heard Mr. Swenson’s side of the story! Right now, I’ll say nothing to ruin our little party.”

As Nancy parked in front of Riverwood Cottage, Bess, George, and Honey came running to see what she had brought. The little girl squealed with delight as she peered into the various packages.

“You didn’t forget Hans’s bone?” she asked.

“I should say not,” Nancy told her. “The butcher gave us the best one he had.”

Ned arrived, and everyone helped carry in the bundles. As Nancy stepped into the cottage it was her turn to be surprised. During her absence the girls had decorated the living-dining room with flowers from the garden and had brought out the best china, a lovely set of delftware.

“What beautiful dishes!” Nancy exclaimed admiringly.

“They’re all I have left of our good possessions,” Mrs. Swenson said. “The set was given to me as a wedding present. I must sell the dishes soon, but I keep putting it off.”

“It seems a shame to sell a wedding gift,” Bess remarked sympathetically. “Especially such a lovely one as this.”

Under the influence of the young people, Mrs. Swenson brightened. It was impossible to be downhearted around Ned and Nancy, who kept up a constant stream of good-natured banter. Mrs. Swenson, an excellent cook, took charge of preparing the meal, but she had four able assistants. Honey and Hans hovered near the stove where the steak was sizzling.

“Hans has his canine eye on another bone!” Ned laughed. “Well, he won’t get it until we’ve picked it bare.”

Nancy had not misnamed the supper, for it really was a feast. There was plenty of everything and it was a pleasure to see Honey’s eyes grow big at the sight of each steaming dish that was brought to the table.

It was a happy meal, and Ned proved to be a very interesting dinner companion. Even Mrs. Swenson’s sober face lighted up and she ate her food with enjoyment. Nancy entered into the lighthearted conversation, but her mind was far from carefree. Several times during the meal George gazed at her significantly as though to ask what she intended to do about the diary. The girls had come to Sandy Creek to learn certain facts, but now that they realized how affairs were at the Swenson cottage, it seemed unkind to bring further trouble upon the family.

“I want to show you my little baby chicks,” Honey announced when the meal was over. “I have ten yellow ones—all my own.”

Ned, Bess, and George obligingly followed the child outside.

“Coming?” Bess asked Nancy.

“No, I’ll stay and help with the dishes.”

Nancy felt that it was her opportunity to talk with Mrs. Swenson alone. Yet, after the others had gone, she did not know how to launch the important subject. As she scraped the dishes, she cautiously broached the subject of nationalities.

“We’re Swedish,” Mrs. Swenson declared. “You probably guessed that.”

Nancy had, but her heart sank at the definite assertion.

“You speak perfect English,” she replied.

“My husband is a university man,” the woman returned proudly. “He has always corrected my English and helped me with it.”

“What were the other names in your families?” Nancy asked, smiling.

“My maiden name was the same as that of Joe’s mother—Dahl.” Nancy stifled a gasp. The ring with the initial “D” must have been inherited by Joe Swenson! Now she
must
find out about the diary!

“I’ve often heard that people who move to this country keep diaries. Did your family follow the custom?” Nancy inquired, trying to make her question sound uninquisitive.

“The Swensons always did, even at home. My husband kept a diary in which he also told of his inventions. He hoped that this would help keep his ideas safe. But—” Mrs. Swenson stopped speaking and gazed into space.

Nancy pretended not to notice the long pause. Finally she asked, “Did your husband always carry the diary with him?”

“Yes, he did.”

At this affirmation of her suspicions, Nancy almost dropped a plate. She quickly caught it, but thought, “Evidence is piling up against Joe Swenson at an alarming rate!”

Presently Mrs. Swenson spoke again. “Nancy, I can’t understand why I haven’t heard from my husband,” she confided. “Joe has been gone a month. He was sure of finding work and promised to send money home. But I haven’t had a single letter from him. That’s the reason I went to the post office today. But there was no mail for me. Oh, Nancy, I’m so worried about Joe. Something may have happened to him!”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Nancy said quickly.

Mrs. Swenson grabbed the girl’s arm. “Why do you say that?” she cried out. “Do you know something about Joe?”

Nancy was dumfounded. What was she going to say now?

 

 

 

TAKING a deep breath, Nancy put an arm around Mrs. Swenson. “I’m sure your husband carried identification. If anything had happened to him, surely you would have been notified by this time.”

“But what about his not writing to me?” Mrs. Swenson persisted. “It’s unlike Joe not to keep a promise.”

“Well, that puzzles me too,” Nancy confessed. “But I’m sure you’ll hear from him soon.”

“Oh, I hope so. It should have been easy for Joe to find work, because he’s very skillful. But as I told you before, he was cheated out of a fair deal on his cleverest invention. Unfortunately, he entrusted the drawings to an unscrupulous man who promised to take out patents for him—but didn’t!”

“How dreadful!” Nancy remarked.

“Yes, the man took the patents out under his own name. He deliberately stole them from Joe.”

“Who is the man?” Nancy asked tensely, yet fearing the answer.

Mrs. Swenson hesitated an instant and then said, “Perhaps I shouldn’t give his name, but since you’ll most likely never see him, it can do no harm. The man who cheated Joe, who broke his spirit, is Felix Raybolt!”

“Felix Raybolt!” Nancy echoed.

She had expected this answer, yet hearing the name gave her a distinct shock.

“Yes,” Mrs. Swenson returned, looking curiously at the girl. “Do you know him?”

“Only by reputation,” Nancy answered. “I did hear that his house burned.”

This was news to Mrs. Swenson. “Was anyone hurt?” she asked.

“The police and firemen think the house was unoccupied at the time.”

At that moment Honey and her new friends came in from the garden.

“Nancy,” Bess said, “don’t you think we’d better start for home? The sun is setting and we ought to cross that shaky bridge before dark.”

“Yes,” Nancy agreed. “We’ll leave right away.”

While the other girls were gathering their handbags and saying good-by, she found an opportunity to speak to Ned privately.

“Have you heard any news about the Raybolts?” she asked in a low tone.

“Not a word. They haven’t been located yet.”

Nancy now hurriedly explained that she believed she had found the owner of the ring—Mr. Swenson.

Ned frowned. “This may involve him as a suspect in the fire. What a shame! Mrs. Swenson and Honey are such nice people. I like that little girl a lot.”

“So do I,” Nancy admitted. “I wish I could do something for them—mainly, prove Joe Swenson’s innocent.”

“I think you’ve done a lot already. It’s my turn now. Do you suppose they’d be offended if I left five dollars?”

“It would be a blessing, Ned. I don’t believe they have a penny in the house. Why not hide it somewhere?”

“That’s a good idea,” Ned said. “Mrs. Swenson can’t very well protest if she doesn’t find it until after we’re gone!”

Without being detected, Ned managed to slip one corner of the five-dollar bill under the vase of flowers on the table. Then they said good-by, promising to return for another visit.

Nancy had told Ned about the broken-down bridge, and the young man insisted upon accompanying the girls past the detour. They found that the smashed railing had been marked by warning lights. As soon as Nancy had crossed over in safety, Ned waved and drove on ahead.

“He certainly intends to look after you, Nancy,” Bess teased mischievously. “Honestly, he has a terrible case!”

“Hush!” Nancy retorted, but she was not displeased.

As they rode toward River Heights, she told the girls of her talk with Mrs. Swenson.

“Things are beginning to look black for her husband,” Bess declared. “He certainly had a motive if Mr. Raybolt stole the patent to his invention.”

“All the evidence points that way,” Nancy admitted, “and yet I can’t believe he’s guilty.”

“He’ll be sent to jail if he is,” George stated flatly. “What do you intend to do?”

“I don’t know.” Nancy sighed deeply. “I was never in such a quandary in my life! If he goes to prison, Mrs. Swenson and Honey will be without means of support—to say nothing of the family name being clouded.”

“But it isn’t right to protect a criminal,” Bess insisted.

“He’s innocent until proved otherwise,” Nancy reminded her friend. “Before doing anything more, I’m going to have a long talk with Dad.”

By the time the girls arrived in River Heights, darkness had fallen. Nancy dropped her friends at their homes. When she reached her own house, she found Hannah tidying the kitchen.

“Isn’t Dad home yet?” Nancy asked.

“No, he telephoned he wouldn’t be back until late tonight.”

Nancy was disappointed that her father had not returned. It was only a little after eight o’clock, but after talking to the housekeeper a few minutes, Nancy went to her bedroom.

“I’ll have another look at that diary,” she thought. “Perhaps I’ll be able to make something out of it, now that I know more about Joe Swenson.”