Chapter 13 The Clue in the Diary by Carolyn Keene
The Law Takes Over
“Let go of me!” Nancy cried out, and tried to shake off the man’s iron grip. When she did not succeed, Bess and George started pounding the man and forced him to release Nancy’s arm.
“What do you want?” Nancy demanded indignantly.
“Some information. Why are you snooping around here?” the stranger snarled.
“Are you a factory guard?” Nancy countered, knowing from his clothes and manner that he most certainly was not.
“Why—uh—yes. That’s what I am. And I got a right to know why you been talkin’ to that workman.”
“The conversation was private,” Nancy told the man firmly. “Now if you’ll just move—”
For a moment the obnoxious stranger did not seem inclined to do so, but finally he strode off down the street. The girls stepped into the car and drove away.
“Nancy, aren’t you worried?” Bess asked. “That man was positively horrible.”
“Yes, I am, Bess. Because I’m more certain than ever that Joe Swenson is in some kind of jam.”
“If we can see him at four o’clock, I’m going to ask him about that crude person,” declared George. “Say, Nancy, where are you going now?”
“Yes, where?” Bess echoed. “I’m starving!”
Nancy laughed. “I could use some lunch myself. After that, I’ll introduce myself to Phil Roberts’ father.”
“The Stanford postmaster!” Bess exclaimed. “Nancy, you’re not transferring your affections from Ned to Phil already!”
“Nothing like that,” Nancy assured her with a grin. “I have a little scheme I’d like to try out and I need his cooperation.”
Nancy stopped speaking as she drove into a public parking lot next to a tearoom. The girls went inside and were fortunate to be seated at the last available table. It was such a noisy place that the girls did not try to talk.
Half an hour later they came out of the tearoom, glad to breathe the fresh air and escape the din. Since the post office was close by, the girls walked there. Seeing a door sign marked:
PRIVATE
POSTMASTER
Nancy went to it and knocked. Presently it was opened by a pleasant, middle-aged man.
“I’m Nancy Drew from River Heights,” she said, smiling. “I met your son Phil at a party.”
“Oh, yes! Phil told me. Won’t you come in?”
After the girls had entered and the door had been closed, Nancy introduced her friends.
“I’ve come on an unusual errand, Mr. Roberts,” Nancy said. “A man I know who works at Stanford Electronics has sent two letters containing money orders from here. Neither has been received. Probably all your employees are above suspicion, but would you mind if I make a little experiment?”
The postmaster smiled. “What kind of experiment?”
“I’ll mail a note to the man’s wife with a money order in it from your office,” Nancy explained. “Could you possibly find out if that letter is sent out from here?”
Mr. Roberts looked intently at Nancy. “You’re a very ingenious young lady,” he remarked. “And if the letter does leave here, then you’ll check with the receiving post office to find out if it has reached there?”
“Yes. The family of this man is desperately in need of receiving money from him. I’m trying to help them.”
“And I’ll help too,” the postmaster said suddenly. “Now, will you please give me the name and address of this woman?”
Nancy took Joe Swenson’s unsealed envelope from her purse and Mr. Roberts copied the two names and addresses on it. As he handed it back, he said, “Mail this at once.” Then he added, “If you come back in a couple of hours, I’ll have a report for you—after I personally examine all the outgoing mailbags.”
“I’ll be here.” Nancy thanked the postmaster and the three girls went into the main lobby. There, Nancy bought the twenty-five-dollar money order, kept the purchaser’s receipt, and tucked the other section, properly filled out, into the letter. Then she sealed the envelope and slipped the letter into the nearby slot.
When the girls reached the street, Bess said, “That was a daring thing to do, Nancy. Suppose the letter is intercepted, and the money order cashed by some unscrupulous person?”
“If that happens, I’ll make good on the money. Right now, tell me, where are we going to spend two hours?”
George suggested attending a movie across the street, and the girls went into the theater. They became so interested in the historical mystery film that the time flew by. The feature ended just as the two hours were up, and the girls hurried back to Mr. Roberts’ office.
Again he opened the door. The postmaster was not alone. A policeman stood guarding a man who sat dejectedly in a chair, his face in his hands. He looked up at Nancy, hate blazing in his eyes. The money-order clerk!
“Nancy Drew, thank you for leading us to this thief!” the postmaster said. “Ralph Ringman has confessed to taking not only the letter you mailed, but all money orders of any size. He has two accomplices, a man and a woman, who go to various towns and cash the money orders.”
“I’m not the only employee in on this deal,” Ringman cried out.
Mr. Roberts smiled. “I figured that might be the case, and have notified other postmasters who have had complaints of undelivered money orders to try the same ruse that Nancy Drew suggested.”
At that moment the phone rang. Mr. Roberts answered it. “Yes, Clyde. . . . You did? . . . Good! I guess that little racket is over with.”
When he hung up, Mr. Roberts reported to the others that Ringman’s outside accomplices had just been arrested by the police and had confessed their parts in the scheme.
On a hunch, Nancy told about the rough-looking man who had questioned her. “Was he in league with Ralph Ringman?” she asked the postmaster.
“That’s right.” Mr. Roberts turned to the prisoner. “You’ll be interested to hear that your pal meant to double-cross you. He planned to hold up Swenson at the plant and grab Swenson’s money for himself. Just as he was about to emerge from his hiding place in the shrubbery nearby, Miss Drew and her friends came along. When he overheard the conversation about the stolen mail, he got panicky. That’s why he followed Miss Drew and accused her of snooping.”
“The low-down sneak!” snarled Ringman.
Mr. Roberts said that a man from the Postal Inspectors Division would take custody of the prisoner. “By the way,” he said to Nancy, “do you still want Mr. Swenson’s letter sent?”
“Yes, if it’s safe. I’ll give the money order receipt to him.” Nancy glanced at her watch. “We must hurry,” she said. “Thank you, Mr. Roberts. Please give my regards to Phil.”
The girls hurried off. At a traffic light they paused, waiting for it to turn green. Behind them stood two men conversing in low voices.
“Where’d you get the tip?” one asked.
“From Raybolt’s wife. She said the man who set fire to the house had an appointment with him there that evening.”
“I heard he ran away. Where’d he go?”
“Nobody knows. But we tracked him here. He’s working at the electronics factory under an assumed name.”
“What is it?”
“We don’t know. But we have the man’s description. We’ll have him in jail by tonight!”
Nancy, Bess, and George hardly breathed during this recital. Did these men mean Joe Swenson?