Chapter 11 The Secret of the Old Clock by Carolyn Keene
An Unexpected Adventure
Nancy awoke the next morning to the fragrant odor of pines. Eager to start out for the Topham bungalow, she dressed quickly.
But in her plans she had reckoned without Helen Corning and her friends. From the moment breakfast was over, Nancy was swept into another whirlwind of activity by the campers of Avondale. The entire day passed without a chance for her to break away.
“Oh, Helen!” Nancy groaned as she tumbled into bed that night. “Tennis matches, canoe races, swimming, water skiing—it’s been fun. But tomorrow I think I’ll stay out of the activities.”
Helen laughed gaily. “You’ll change your mind after a sound sleep, Nancy. Wait and see.”
For answer, Nancy murmured a sleepy good night. But even as she slipped into slumber, she vowed that in the morning she would not be deterred again from visiting the Tophams’ summer place!
After breakfast the next day, Nancy stood firm in her resolve. When Helen urged her to accompany the girls on an all-day hike, Nancy shook her head.
“Thanks a lot, but please excuse me today, Helen.”
Normally Nancy would have loved going on such a hike. But she had to achieve her plan of sleuthing. Helen, though disappointed, heeded her friend’s plea and trudged off with the other campers into the woods.
As soon as they were out of sight, Nancy leaped into action. After obtaining Aunt Martha’s permission to use the launch, she hurried down to the dock. Nancy had frequently handled motorboats and was confident she could manage this one.
“Now. Full speed ahead for the Tophams’!”
To her delight the motor started immediately, and Nancy steered out into the lake. As the launch cut through the water, a cool spray blew into her face. The young sleuth felt a thrill of excitement as she guided the craft toward her destination which might hold a solution to the mystery.
“If only the Tophams’ caretaker will let me in when I get there!” she thought.
Nancy’s heart beat somewhat faster as she neared her goal. But all of a sudden there was a sputter from the engine. The next instant, to Nancy’s utter dismay, the motor gave one long wheeze and died.
“Oh!” she cried aloud.
Nancy knew that the tank held plenty of fuel, for she had checked this before departing. A moment later she recalled Helen’s remark about the engine becoming balky at times.
With a sigh of impatience at the unexpected delay, Nancy examined the motor. For over an hour she worked on it, trying every adjustment she could think of. But her efforts were useless. There was not a sound of response from the motor.
“What miserable luck!” she said aloud. “Of all days for the motor to conk out! This means I won’t get to the Topham cottage after all!”
For a moment Nancy was tempted to swim ashore. To be so close to the bungalow and not be able to reach it was tantalizing. But she resisted the impulse; she could not leave the boat stranded—it would drift off and she would be responsible.
“I’ll just have to wait for a passing boat to rescue me,” Nancy decided.
But fate was against her. The hours dragged by and not another craft appeared in sight. Nancy became increasingly uncomfortable as the hot sun beat down on her. Also, she was growing weak from hunger.
“And worst of all,” Nancy thought gloomily, “another whole day is being wasted. I want to get to the bottom of this mystery!”
To occupy her mind, Nancy concentrated once more on the motor. Determinedly she bent over the engine. It was not until the sun sank low in the sky that she sat up and drew a long breath.
“There!” she declared. “I’ve done everything. If it doesn’t start now, it never will.”
To her relief and astonishment, it responded with a steady roar as if nothing had ever gone wrong!
Nancy lost no time in heading back toward camp. She dared not attempt to visit the bungalow, since it would be dark very soon.
When finally she eased up to the dock, Nancy saw Helen and her friends awaiting her. They greeted her with delight.
“We were just going to send out a search party for you!” Helen exclaimed. She stopped abruptly and stared at her friend. “You’re sunburned and covered with grease! What happened?”
Nancy laughed. “I had an extended sun bath.” Then she gave a lighthearted account of her mishap as the campers trooped back to their cabins. When Helen learned that Nancy had had nothing to eat since breakfast, she went to the kitchen and brought back some food.
The following morning the young sleuth decided on her next move. Directly after breakfast she began packing.
When Helen entered the cabin she exclaimed in amazement, “Why, Nancy Drew! You’re not leaving camp already!”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to, Helen. Right after lunch. I may be back but I’m not sure, so I’d better take my bag with me.”
“Don’t you like it here?”
“Of course!” Nancy assured her. “I’ve had a wonderful time. It’s just that there’s something very important I must attend to at once.”
Helen looked at her friend searchingly, then grinned. “Nancy Drew, you’re working on some mystery with your father!”
“Well, sort of,” Nancy admitted. “But I’ll try to get back. Okay?”
“Oh, please do,” Helen begged.
Nancy went to the office to pay Aunt Martha and explain her hasty departure. After lunch she set off in her car to a chorus of farewells from the campers, who sadly watched her depart.
She headed the car toward the end of the lake, then took the dirt road leading to the Topham cottage. Soon she came to a fork in the woods.
“Now, which way shall I turn for the bungalow?” she wondered. After a moment’s hesitation, Nancy calculated that she should turn left toward the water and did so.
The going was rather rough due to ruts in the road. Two of them, deeper than the others, apparently had been made by a heavy truck.
“The tracks appear fresh,” Nancy mused.
As she drove along, the young sleuth noticed a number of summer cottages. Most of them were still boarded up, since it was early in the season. As she gazed at one of them, the steering wheel was nearly wrenched from her hand by a crooked rut. As Nancy turned the steering wheel, to bring the car back to the center of the narrow road, one hand accidentally touched the horn. It blared loudly in the still woods.
“That must have scared all the birds and animals.” Nancy chuckled.
Around a bend in the road, she caught sight of a white bungalow ahead on the right side of the road.
There was no sign at the entrance to the driveway to indicate who the owner was, but a wooded path leading down to the lake looked like the one she had seen from the water.
“I think I’ll walk down to the shore and look at the cottage from there,” Nancy determined. “Then I’ll know for sure if this is the place Helen pointed out.”
Nancy parked at the edge of the road and got out. To her surprise, she observed that the truck’s tire marks turned into the driveway. A second set of tracks indicated that the vehicle had backed out and gone on down the road.
“Delivering supplies for the summer, no doubt,” Nancy told herself.
She went down the path to the water, then turned around to look at the cottage.
“It’s the Tophams’ all right,” Nancy decided.
Instead of coming back by way of the path, she decided to take a short cut through the woods. With mounting anticipation of solving the Crowley mystery, she reached the road and hurried up the driveway.
“I hope the caretaker is here,” she thought.
Nancy suddenly stopped short with a gasp of astonishment. “Why, the Tophams must be moving out!”
The front and side doors of the cottage stood wide open. Some of the furniture on the porch was overturned and various small household items were strewn along the driveway.
Nancy bent to examine some marks in the soft earth. She noted that several were boot prints, while others were long lines probably caused by dragging cartons and furniture across the lawn.
“That must have been a moving van’s tracks I saw,” Nancy told herself. “But the Tophams didn’t say anything about moving.” She frowned in puzzlement.
Her feeling persisted and grew strong as she walked up the steps of the cottage porch. Nancy knocked loudly on the opened door. No response. Nancy rapped again. Silence.
Where was Jeff Tucker, the caretaker? Why wasn’t he on hand to keep an eye on the moving activities? An air of complete desertion hung over the place.
“There’s something very strange about this,” she thought.
Curious and puzzled, Nancy entered the living room. Again her eyes met a scene of disorder. Except for a few small pieces, the room was bare of furniture. Even the draperies had been pulled from their rods and all floor coverings were gone.
“Hm! Most of the furnishings have been taken out,” Nancy thought. “I suppose the movers will be back for the other odds and ends.”
She made a careful tour of the first floor. All but one room had been virtually emptied. This was a small study. As Nancy entered it, she noticed that the rug lay rolled up and tied, and some of the furniture had evidently been shifted in readiness for moving.
“Funny I didn’t hear anything about the Tophams deciding to give up their cottage,” she murmured. “And I must say those moving men were awfully careless—”
A vague suspicion that had been forming in the back of Nancy’s mind now came into startling focus. “Those men may not be movers!” she burst out. “They may be thieves!”
At once Nancy thought of the dark-gray van which had stopped at the Turners. “Those men may be the same ones who robbed them!”
That would explain, Nancy thought fearfully, the evidences of the truck’s hasty departure. “Probably the thieves were scared away when I sounded my horn!”
Nancy glanced about uneasily. What if the men were still nearby, watching for a chance to return and pick up the remaining valuables? The realization that she was alone, some distance from the nearest house, swept over her. A tingling sensation crept up Nancy’s spine.
But resolutely she shook off her nervousness. “At least I must see if the Crowley clock is still here,” Nancy reminded herself, and then went through the bungalow again.
She found no trace of the timepiece, however. “I guess the thieves took that too,” Nancy concluded. “I’d better report this robbery to the police right now.” She looked about for a phone but there was none. “I’ll have to drive to the nearest State Police headquarters.”
Nancy started toward the front door. Passing a window, she glanced out, then paused in sheer fright. A man, wearing a cap pulled low over his eyes, was stalking up the driveway toward the cottage. He was not tall and slender like the caretaker. This stranger was rather short and heavy-set.
“This man fits the Turners’ description! He must be one of the thieves who stole the silver heirlooms!” Nancy thought wildly.