Read The Clue in the Old Stagecoach Online
Authors: Carolyn G. Keene
The Clue in the Old Stagecoach (11 page)
The others agreed and Marjory said, “That only leaves the woods. The question, now, is which woods?”
Morton pointed out that all of them were a bit swampy with the exception of a wooded knoll about a thousand feet from the house. “I vote that we start digging there,” he suggested.
“Let’s go!” said George, starting across the field with a spade swung over her shoulder.
Nancy helped Mrs. Zucker half carry, half roll the baby’s play pen across the rough ground. They parked the infant in the shade of one of the trees, then all started digging with a will.
Dirt piled up in mounds, as the diggers went from one spot to another. Presently they stood under a dead tree next to the one where the baby was asleep.
Digging started here with great energy. Suddenly they heard a cracking sound and Bess screamed:
“George, run!”
CHAPTER XIV
A Hopeful Discovery
WITHOUT asking the reason, George dropped her spade and ran some distance away. A moment later a large limb of the dead tree crashed to the ground.
Nancy, working on the other side of the old tree, had looked up at Bess’s cry and realized what was going to happen. She feared that the dead wood might splinter and one or more pieces hit the baby!
Jumping to the play pen, she wheeled it out of the way. She too was just in time. Chunks of wood were hurled through the air. Some of them landed exactly where the play pen had stood!
“Oh, Nancy,” Mrs. Zucker cried out, “you kept my baby from being hurt!” She hugged Nancy, then picked up the infant, who had been jolted awake by this time and had begun to cry. “I—I think I’ll go back to the house,” the young mother added.
In the meantime George’s heartbeat had returned to normal. She thanked her cousin for the warning, then grinned ruefully. “I’d have had a pretty bad bump if that old limb had ever hit me!”
Morton Zucker said he felt responsible for the whole thing. He had promised himself many times to take down the dead tree but had never seemed to have time.
“But you can bet it’s going to come down fast now,” he said with determination.
The diggers decided to go on with their work but to have one of them as a lookout at all times.
“I’ll watch first,” Bess offered, and kept her eyes on the rotted limbs of the old tree.
Nancy, George, and Morton dug furiously. Several times they hit roots. At these moments the searchers hoped they had struck a piece of the old stagecoach or at least a container holding some of its parts. But they had no luck and moved on to another location.
At noontime Bess spoke up. “Let’s take a rest. I forgot to tell you girls I brought some lunch for us. I had the camp chef pack it.”
She went for the package and the three girls sat down in the shade of the knoll to eat roast-beef sandwiches, tomatoes, and cake. Morton, upon learning they had brought their own food, went to the house to get his lunch. In an hour he was back and the work continued.
Time after time fragments of tools and hardware were dug up, but none of them belonged to an old stagecoach. Bess and George became weary of their task. They were just about to suggest quitting, when Morton, who had been quiet for several minutes, called out from a distance:
“Maybe this is what you’re looking for!”
The three girls rushed to his side, just as he lifted up an old wheel.
“We’ve found it!” Bess shrieked excitedly.
The whole group dug furiously in the vicinity. Presently they unearthed a matching wheel, then a third, finally a fourth. All were in bad condition and two would fall apart if lifted up.
“Now where shall we dig?” George asked.
Morton said he thought one person’s guess was as good as another. “Why don’t we dig all the way around these wheels?” he suggested.
They did this and within a few minutes uncovered some rotted leather straps.
“Oh, this is so thrilling!” Bess exclaimed, putting her full weight onto the spade she was using. “I’ve hit something!”
Nancy helped her dig and presently they uncovered a long board. Further digging revealed rusty hinges once attached to the plank. Then came another board evidently originally hinged to the other, but now rotted apart.
“Maybe this is what you’re looking for!”
At almost the same time Morton uncovered a series of long boards. He frowned, then said regretfully, “These could not have belonged to a stagecoach. This was just a farm wagon. It’s my guess the wagon was wrecked at this spot or dragged here and time covered it with earth.”
Bess seemed more disappointed than the others. She had felt so sure the mystery was about to be solved, the frustrated girl was almost in tears.
“This is just awful!” she said, flopping to the ground. “All this work and nothing but a busted old wagon!”
“And it’s been here a long time, I’ll bet,” said George. “I wonder if it belonged to Abner Langstreet.”
Nancy thought it might have. “If he took his old stagecoach apart and carried the pieces away, he would have needed some kind of vehicle to cart it in.”
Bess was inconsolable. “If we keep on digging, we may find the bones of the horses to this wagon,” she said. “I vote we quit right now. Anyway, George and I promised to play tennis late this afternoon.”
Morton said that he too would have to stop work and do the evening farm chores. “But I shan’t stop digging entirely,” he promised Nancy. “You have my curiosity aroused. If that old stagecoach is buried on this farm, I’ll find it!”
Nancy was very weary herself from the arduous work and did not argue about stopping. They all trudged back to the farmhouse where Mrs. Zucker insisted they have glasses of cold milk. The girls washed their faces and hands and then sat down in the living room to cool off.
“I had callers while you were at work,” said Marjory Zucker.
“Callers?” Nancy repeated.
“Yes, a man and a woman about thirty years old. They asked if this was the Robert Smith farm. Of course I told them no.”
“Did you give them your name?” Nancy asked.
“Yes.”
Marjory went on to say that the couple had stood near their car and watched the digging operation at the knoll. The man had asked what was going on.
“You didn’t tell them?” Nancy asked worriedly.
“Oh, no,” Marjory replied. “I said farmers are always digging.”
“Good for you!” George spoke up.
Nancy asked for descriptions of the couple and the car. Upon hearing them, she looked at Bess and George. There was no question in any of their minds. The callers had been Audrey and Ross Monteith!
“Do you know the people who were here?” Marjory asked. “I had an idea they might have suspected it was you at the knoll, Nancy, because they asked who owned your car. When I ignored the question, they looked at each other as if they knew.”
“We know them all right,” said Nancy. “They’re staying at the same lodge where we are. We find them—well, a little too interested in our affairs!”
“I see,” Marjory answered with an understanding smile.
The three girls said good-by, adding that they might return soon. As they drove off toward the main road, Bess wore a worried frown. “I don’t like it at all that Audrey and Ross Monteith were here!”
“I don’t either,” Nancy agreed.
CHAPTER XV
Startling News
“WHEN we get home,” said George, her jaw set firmly, “I’m going to have it out with Ross and Audrey Monteith! They’re a pain, and besides, I can’t take being followed any longer.”
Nancy tried to dissuade her friend from carrying out her threat. “It may only drive Ross and Audrey into hiding and then they’ll have the advantage over us. They’ll know where we are, but we won’t know where they are.”
“All right,” George finally conceded. “But it certainly burns me up having them act the way they do.”
After the girls had put the car in the parking lot, they walked up to the front of Camp Merriweather lodge. Rick Larrabee and his friends arose from a nearby bench to greet them. All three looked very sober.
“I’m glad you came,” said Rick. “We have news for you.”
Before he could go on, Hobe White burst forth with, “The Monteiths have checked out!”
“What!” the three girls exclaimed together.
Rick explained that he and the other fellows had decided to do some sleuthing. “We thought we’d surprise you girls,” he said. “To our amazement, we learned that the Monteiths had packed their bags and left Merriweather before breakfast.”
“Where did they go?” Nancy asked quickly.
Rick shrugged. “I asked the clerk if he knew where. All he could tell me was that the Monteiths had asked that their mail be forwarded to a post-office box in New York City.”
“And that sounds zany to me,” said Hobe. “The Monteiths have been here for two weeks. The clerk says they haven’t received one piece of mail.”
“That does look suspicious,” Nancy agreed. “It wouldn’t surprise me if the Monteiths have moved to another hotel in this area, or more likely to a private home and perhaps under an assumed name.”
“What about their car license?” Bess asked. “Wouldn’t that give them away?”
Nancy smiled and said, “When I phoned the police this morning, they told me the car which the Monteiths are driving is registered in the name of Frank Templer.”
“So they are using an assumed name!” George cried out. “I knew they were phonies from the start.”
“Not so fast,” said Nancy. “The Monteiths might have borrowed the car from Mr. Frank Templer.”
“Or,” Rick spoke up, “Ross’s real name may be Frank Templer,” and Nancy nodded.
Rick now told the girls his other bit of news. “We fellows are mighty sorry, but we must leave camp right away.”
“Now?” asked Bess, genuinely sorry to hear this. Nancy and George were too.
“I’m afraid so,” Rick answered. “A little while ago I had word that my father is very ill. Mother wants me to come home. I told Hobe it wasn’t necessary for him to drive me there—that I’d take the train.”
“But I insisted,” said Hobe. “We’re leaving in a little while. I hope you girls get your mystery solved. Lots of luck!”
Nancy thanked Rick for all the help he had given her. She and the other girls said they hoped Mr. Larrabee would have a speedy recovery.
Hobe’s car was parked not far from the hotel entrance. The whole group now walked over to it and the boys climbed aboard. Good-bys were said and the girls waved as the car went down the driveway and out the entrance gate.
“They’re three nice fellows,” George remarked, as the girls went into the lodge and took the elevator to their rooms.
Nancy and Bess agreed and Bess added, “This mystery is going to get dangerous—I just have a hunch. We need some boys to help us. I’m glad Ned and Burt and Dave are coming.”
Nancy laughed. “Danger or no danger,” she said, “I’m glad they’re coming too.”
After she had showered and dressed, the young sleuth sat in deep thought for some time. What should she do next? Suddenly her puzzled mood changed. “I know what I’ll do,” she told herself. “I’ll call Dad. He’ll give me some good advice.”
It had been arranged at home that while Nancy was on vacation with Bess and George, her father would live at his club. Their housekeeper, Hannah Gruen, was going to visit relatives. Mrs. Gruen had lived with the Drews for many years and had helped to rear Nancy, whose mother had passed away when Nancy was only three years old.
Nancy stuck her head into the adjoining room and told the girls she was going downstairs to a private phone booth and put in a long-distance call to her father. Soon she had the club on the wire and asked for Mr. Drew. Hoping fervently that he would be there, Nancy held the receiver and tapped one foot in nervous anticipation.
A few moments later she was delighted to hear a deep-sounding voice say, “Hello, Nancy dear!”
“Dad!” his daughter cried happily. “I’m so glad you were in. Dad, I’m full of problems and I need your advice.”
Carson Drew chuckled. “Shall I have my dinner sent here and eat it while you talk?” he teased. “But seriously, tell me first how you are and then I’ll listen to your problems. I’m sure they involve some mystery.”
Nancy said she was feeling fine, then launched into the story of the stagecoach mystery and the various setbacks she had had.
“Well, you certainly have been busy,” Mr. Drew remarked, as she finished. “And the mystery sounds like a most intriguing one. Now what is it exactly you want me to help you with?”
“Tell me first, am I on the right track in the way I’ve gone about this?” the young sleuth asked.
“I’d say you are,” the lawyer replied. “And I think your surmises so far have probably been correct. So go on with your digging operations. But if I were you, before I did any more of it, I’d try to find out who the former owners or tenants of the Zucker property were. Perhaps they can give you some clue as to where the stagecoach might have been buried.”
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