Chapter 8 The Clue in the Diary by Carolyn Keene
Worried Sleuths
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.”
For one hour Nancy, with added incentive, patiently applied herself to the task of deciphering the cramped English scrawl. She looked at the drawing again and wondered whether it was a sketch for part of the stolen invention. Finally she was able to distinguish a few paragraphs—mostly notations of supplies purchased from various manufacturing concerns.
“Maybe Joe Swenson found a job in one of those places!” Nancy thought optimistically. “I’ll go from one to another and inquire!”
Any possible lead was welcome at this point, Nancy told herself excitedly. She scanned the notations again. Her eyes lingered on the name of a company in the small city of Stanford.
“That’s where Mr. Baylor Weston lives—the man who ran into my car,” the young detective murmured. “I’ll go to Stanford first, and see Mr. Weston at the same time!”
When Nancy came down to breakfast the next morning she found a sealed envelope beside her plate. She was mystified to note there was no return address on it.
“A man left the envelope early this morning,” Mrs. Gruen told Nancy.