Read The Secret in the Old Attic Online
Authors: Carolyn Keene
Tags: #Mystery, #Women Detectives, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Girls & Women, #Action & Adventure, #Mystery & Detective, #Juvenile Fiction, #Adventure and Adventurers, #Letters, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Fiction, #Attics, #Women Sleuths, #Music - Manuscripts, #Drew; Nancy (Fictitious Character), #General, #Mystery and Detective Stories
The Secret in the Old Attic (5 page)
After her father had gone to his office Nancy pondered how she might get in touch with Diane Dight without arousing the girl’s suspicions about her sudden show of friendship. While she was studying the problem, George Fayne dropped in.
“Why the furrowed brow?” George asked.
“I was thinking about how I’m going to cultivate a friendship with Diane Dight,” Nancy replied.
“Diane Dight! How you could like that girl is a puzzle to me!” George protested.
“Did I say I like her?” Nancy countered, her eyes twinkling.
“I might have known.” George grinned. “You think she’s involved in some mystery. Don’t tell me she stole Fipp March’s music!”
“No, not that. I’d just like to get her to take me through her father’s factory.”
“She’d never bother,” George predicted. “Always too busy talking about herself and the latest dress she’s having made at Madame Paray’s.”
“I don’t know that dressmaker.”
“Mother’s having one made there to wear to a wedding. It’s funny you should mention Diane, because she was there the other day when Mother was, and raised a real storm. Diane wanted Madame Paray to stop all her other work and finish a dress so that she could take it away with her.”
“So she isn’t in town,” said Nancy, disappointed.
“I don’t know how long Diane is going to be away. Why don’t you phone her house and find out?”
“It would be better if I could get the information some other way.”
“How about the dressmaker?” George suggested. “Mother has a fitting there at eleven this morning. Suppose you and I go with her.”
“A grand idea.”
The two girls hurried off to join Mrs. Fayne. They caught her just leaving the house. A little later Nancy was introduced to Madame Paray. Nancy complimented the dressmaker on Diane Dight’s clothes.
“Her figaire ees slim and easy to fit,” said the dressmaker modestly. “But I’m afraid she diet too much—and ze diet, eet keep you happy or else eet make you cross when you do not eat enough.”
“Diane is out of town, isn’t she?” Nancy asked.
“She return today on ze two-o’clock train. I am afraid zere will be anozzer scene when she come here to get her gown. Eet ees not finish.”
Quickly Nancy saw an opportunity to get in touch with Diane. She offered to meet the girl at the station and tell her that the dress was not ready.
“Oh, would you? Zat would be most kind. And please to tell Miss Diane also her papa wishes to hear from her as soon as she arrive.”
George grinned broadly. Nancy had managed to arrange the perfect setup for herself! After Mrs. Fayne and the two girls left the dressmaker’s, George congratulated her friend.
“I’m so happy, I’m inviting you both to lunch.” Nancy grinned. “Then I’ll tell you, Mrs. Fayne, what a schemer I am!”
The meal was a delightful one, and immediately afterward Nancy hastened home to change her clothes. When she came downstairs half an hour later, Hannah Gruen looked at her in amazement.
“Wherever are you going so dressed up?”
“I’m going for a drive with the best-dressed girl in River Heights—Diane Dight!” Nancy giggled, gave the housekeeper a hug, and hurried away mysteriously. “Please give Dad that message if he should phone,” she called from the garage.
Nancy drove immediately to the station. The two-o’clock train was just coming in. Quickly she parked the car and dashed across the platform.
The first passenger to step down was Diane Dight. As Nancy went toward the girl, her heart beat faster.
Was her plan going to work?
CHAPTER VI
Nancy’s Ruse
“HELLO, Diane!”
The Dight girl looked up, startled, and barely acknowledged the greeting.
“I have a message for you,” Nancy said.
“For me? What is it?” Diane questioned apprehensively.
“Madame Paray asked me to tell you that your dress is not ready.”
“Oh!” Diane relaxed. Then her eyes snapped. “That woman makes me tired. I wouldn’t go to her any more, except that she does make attractive clothes.”
“You always look stunning, Diane,” said Nancy.
For the first time Diane seemed to take note of what Nancy was wearing. “I like the dress you have on. Did you have it made?”
“Yes, I did,” Nancy replied lightly, stifling a desire to smile. She was thinking how pleased Hannah Gruen would be to hear her handiwork so highly praised. Aloud she said, “I’ll be glad to drive you, Diane. Let me help you with your suitcase.”
Diane protested, but Nancy merely smiled. She took the bag and went to her car. Diane began complaining about the fact that there were never any porters around and that the family chauffeur was on vacation. When they got into the car, Nancy turned in the direction opposite the one to the Dight residence.
“You’re going the wrong way!” Diane cried indignantly.
Nancy quickly interjected, “I just recalled that your father wants to see you at his factory right away. Madame Paray asked me to give you that message also.”
Nancy kept going until she reached a cluster of brick buildings. There Diane said good-by, adding that she would take a taxi home. But Nancy was not to be put off so easily.
“Oh, I don’t mind waiting,” she insisted. “I have nothing else to do at the moment.”
Before Diane had a chance to object, Nancy was out of the car and walking into the building with her. Out of politeness Diane was forced to introduce her to Mr. Dight’s secretary.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be with my father,” Diane told Nancy. She added curtly, “Please don’t bother to wait.”
After she had disappeared into the inner office, Nancy smiled at Miss Jones, the secretary.
“This must be a fascinating place to work,” she said. “Do you know all about the process of making synthetic material?”
“I know a good deal, but far from everything,” the young woman replied pleasantly.
“I’d love to go through the plant sometime. Do you suppose Diane would take me?” Nancy inquired.
Miss Jones smiled. “She doesn’t seem to be interested in her father’s business. If you would like to take a quick look, I’ll show you what I can. Of course many of the processes used here are kept secret. Some I don’t even know myself.”
Nancy’s pulse leaped. She could hardly wait to start her trip through the factory, but she tried to appear calm.
“That’s sweet of you, Miss Jones,” she said. “If you really can spare the time, I’d love to look around.”
“As a rule, visitors are not permitted, but since you’re a friend of Miss Dight”—here she appraised Nancy’s dress with a complimentary look —“I’ll be glad to take you through.”
As she and Miss Jones walked along the halls and up and down flights of stairs, the secretary explained the rudiments of the making of synthetic cloth.
“It seems like magic,” she said “that coal and oil can be turned into lovely soft materials so quickly. At other factories oil and coal are made into colorless chemicals which we buy. Then they are put into tanks like the one you see over there and churned with chemical compounds for several hours.”
“Is the result raw fiber solutions?” Nancy asked.
“Yes. Each is given a different trade name depending on mixture and composition.”
“Nothing secret about that,” thought Nancy.
As Miss Jones led her farther into the plant, Nancy kept her eyes open for Bushy Trott. Although there were many workmen busy at their tasks, she saw no one who resembled the suspected thief.
One thing she did take note of was a heavy door on the stairway landing at the far end of the building. A metal sign on it read:
POSITIVELY NO ADMITTANCE.
DANGER. KEEP OUT.
DANGER. KEEP OUT.
“I wonder if that is one of the secret places Miss Jones spoke about,” Nancy speculated to herself. “Maybe Bushy Trott is in there!”
Soon they reached the top of another stairway, and the secretary outlined the next process in making synthetics.
“Ahead of you is the machine known as the spinneret,” she said. “That’s what makes thread.”
“It’s remarkable!” Nancy exclaimed, pretending to be watching nothing but this.
At that moment a bell rang several times.
“That’s for me,” said Miss Jones. “I guess Mr. Dight wants me. We’ll have to go back.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to look around a little longer,” Nancy said.
“Well, I don’t know.” The woman paused. “You really shouldn’t. But stay if you wish. If I see Miss Dight, I’ll tell her you’re here.”
Nancy nodded and thanked Miss Jones for the tour. As soon as the secretary left the spinneret room, Nancy moved quickly up the stairway toward the forbidden room.
“I wish I could look in there,” she thought.
As Nancy hesitated outside, the door suddenly opened. A workman in soiled dungarees came out, carrying a package which looked as if it might contain a bolt of cloth.
Although the door remained open only an instant, Nancy obtained a fleeting glimpse of the interior. She saw several large chemical vats. Beside one of them, his back to her, stood a man with bushy black hair.
“Bushy Trott!” Nancy thought excitedly. “The man who used to work at the Booker factory!”
The door slammed shut, and she saw no more. Nancy deliberately loitered until the workman who had come out of the room disappeared down the hall.
“I must get a better look at that fellow with the bushy hair!” she decided. “This is my chance to help Dad solve the mystery!”
Glancing quickly around and seeing no one, Nancy cautiously tried to open the door. To her dismay it had a snap lock and would not budge.
“I must get in there!” Nancy thought with determination. In a moment she smiled to herself. “I think I know how to do it!”
Pressing her lips close to the crack of the door to the secret room, Nancy screamed. The ruse was successful. From within came hurrying footsteps.
The next instant the door swung open. Nancy staggered inside, her hand over her half-closed eyes.
“Water,” she murmured. “Water.”
The big, bushy-haired man who had opened the door stared at her doubtfully.
“Are you sick?” he asked in a coarse, heavy voice.
Nancy did not want to answer questions. To avoid them she pretended to faint. The act was well-timed, for the man, frightened, immediately rushed into the hall for help. The young detective smiled.
“I’ll bet that’s Bushy Trott! When I describe him to Dad, he’ll know for sure.”
No sooner had the door swung shut behind the man than she leaped to her feet. Eagerly she gazed about. The room resembled a laboratory. Near her were several vats of rainbow-hued solutions.
Nancy had no opportunity to look further. Heavy footsteps warned her that the man was returning. She barely had time to stretch out on the floor before he came into the room.
As the big, burly figure bent over her, Nancy pretended to revive. Opening her eyes, she gazed up into his ugly, cruel face.
“Here, drink this!” he commanded.
Nancy took a sip of water from the paper cup he offered her.
“I’m feeling better now,” she murmured, sitting up.
“You don’t work here,” he said, scanning her face closely. “How did you get into this part of the factory?” he asked gruffly.
Before Nancy could reply, the outside door swung open again. A stout, well-dressed man with piercing brown eyes stepped inside. Seeing Nancy, he paused in surprise.
“Tro—” He stopped, then went on, “What is the meaning of this? Why have you allowed a visitor here?”
“Water,” Nancy murmured. “Water.”
“It’s none o’ my doin’, Mr. Dight,” his employee muttered. “She came in herself—said she was feelin’ sick.”
“Then a little fresh air will help you, miss,” Mr. Dight said stiffly.
Taking Nancy firmly by the arm, he assisted the girl to her feet, and escorted her down the stairs into the main section of the factory.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Nancy explained she had brought Diane from the station, but did not give her name.
“It’s dangerous for you to wander about this building by yourself. You must never do it again,” he remarked in an icy tone of voice.
Nancy thought Lawrence Dight seemed to be frightened. Had she stumbled upon his secret?
When they approached the main entrance, he left her and Nancy headed for the parking lot. Diane was waiting beside Nancy’s car.
The two spoke little on the way to Diane’s house. After accepting the girl’s thanks, Nancy said good-by, then drove at once to her own home.
“Dad!” she greeted her father as she ran into the house. “I had some real luck today! I think I’ve found Bushy Trott!”
Mr. Drew dropped his newspaper. “Say that again!” he requested.
Nancy repeated her statement and quickly related the entire story of her visit to the Dight plant. Mr. Drew readily identified the suspect from Nancy’s description of him. He was deeply impressed with his daughter’s work, and smiled when he heard of her ruse.
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