Chapter 2 The Sign of the Twisted Candles by Carolyn Keene
Trouble Ahead
Nancy looked at Asa Sidney with deep perplexity, wondering who Jenny was.
“I think you’re mistaken,” she said, smiling. “I’m Nancy Drew, and this is the first time I’ve ever been here.... Oh, how very odd!”
She set the tray down on a bench and gazed at a portrait over the fireplace. It was a fine oil painting of a titian-haired young woman who resembled Nancy. She realized that in the flickering candlelight she must look very much like the person in the portrait.
“I—I must have been dreaming,” Asa Sidney murmured, dropping his arms and shaking his head. “Well, well,” he continued, “that’s all we old folks have left. If it were not for our dreams, we should be poor indeed.”
Nancy was silent, not certain just what reply, if any, was expected from her.
“However,” Asa Sidney went on, looking at her with a smile, “you were a very lovely vision as you entered the room. While drowsing, I seemed to see my dear wife step down from the picture up there. If I can’t tell a very pretty and very much alive young woman from an old piece of canvas and paint, then I shall have to visit an oculist.”
Nancy chuckled. “May I congratulate you on your hundredth birthday?” she said. “Carol fixed this tray for you.”
Asa Sidney laughed a little bitterly. “Pardon me, my dear,” he said, sitting down again. “I’m afraid I’ve become a lonely, cross old hermit. Carol is a good girl, a very thoughtful young person, to remember a date that means nothing to anybody else.”
“Surely it is worth while to celebrate one’s hundredth birthday,” Nancy remarked. “Why, your name should be in the papers, and your picture, too.”
“No, no,” protested the old man. “That’s all vanity and display. Why should I be honored for my existence? I haven’t tried to live longer than anyone else. I’ve read interviews in the newspapers. The reporters always ask the centenarians how they managed to live so long. One old codger will say he got to be a hundred because he never ate meat, and another will say he attributes his old age to the fact that he never ate anything but meat!”
Asa Sidney gave a mirthless laugh. “The only reason I have lived to be a hundred is because I have not died!”
Nancy shuddered a little. Plainly Mr. Sidney was far from happy.
“You must have many visitors,” Nancy suggested.
“No,” the old man said sadly, “not a soul ever comes to see me.”
Nancy knew this was not true. She asked, “Are you sure?”
“Of course. The Jemitts have told me.”
The young detective decided not to pursue the subject. It might upset the old man to learn that Bess and George’s relatives had been told Asa Sidney would see no one.
She said abruptly, “I’d like to celebrate your birthday. Two darling friends of mine are downstairs. May we have tea up here with you as a sort of birthday party? Perhaps Carol will join us.”
Mr. Sidney looked startled. “What did you say your name is?”
“Nancy Drew. My father is Carson Drew, the attorney.”
“An attorney, eh?” Asa Sidney paused. “Well, Nancy, bring up your young friends. Tell Jemitt to send us the best food in the inn, and say I will pay what exceeds my usual portion.”
“You are very kind, Mr. Sidney,” said Nancy, “but it is not necessary to do that.”
The old man’s conversation strengthened Nancy’s growing suspicion that the Jemitts, for reasons of their own, wanted to keep the old man a virtual prisoner. She sped down the stairs and joined George and Bess.
“There you are at last!” Bess cried. “I’ve almost died sitting here being polite, while all the time this was teasing me.”
“This” proved to be a plateful of golden cinnamon toast from which Bess lifted the cover.
“Wait a minute!” Nancy cried.
“Wait a minute? Oh, Nancy!” Bess protested.
In a whisper the young detective told of her visit to the tower. Her friends’ eyes opened wide in surprise at what she had learned.
“We’re going to have dinner up there,” Nancy announced. “I’ll call Hannah, and she can phone your parents.”
She rang a little bell on the table, and Carol came to answer.
“Carol,” said Nancy, “all of us are going to have a birthday dinner with Mr. Sidney. He invited us.”
“Oh!” the young waitress exclaimed. “I’m afraid—”
As Nancy took hold of Carol’s hand, she wondered, “Does Jemitt have everybody intimidated?” Aloud she said, “Please tell Mr. Jemitt to come here.”
Jemitt was a tall, rather heavy-set man, slightly bald. “Yes, miss?” the manager asked, his voice purring as he bowed to Nancy.
“We’ve decided to have a more substantial meal,” Nancy said. “Of course we’ll pay for the tea and toast.”
Jemitt bowed more deeply.
“We’ll have jellied consommé, sliced breast of chicken, hearts of lettuce with Roquefort dressing, nut bread, ice cream, chocolate layer cake, and fruit punch,” Nancy said, mentioning the items that had been on Carol’s tray for Mr. Sidney.
“That sounds good to me,” murmured Bess, and George nodded in agreement.
The man bowed and replied, “I shall hurry your orders, miss.”
“One thing more,” Nancy said. “We want this meal served in the tower room with Mr. Sidney, and I should like very much to have you give permission for Carol to join us.”
The suave, sleek Jemitt bristled. “What is the meaning of this? What do you know of the tower room? I—why—who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Nancy smiled. “We wish to celebrate Mr. Sidney’s birthday and he would like us to eat with him. We’ll pay for our dinner and also for the tray Carol fixed for him.”
Nancy’s outspoken manner seemed to intimidate the man. He bowed again and left the room.
George grinned. “Nancy, you sure took him by surprise.”
Nancy smiled. “Now I’ll phone Hannah, then take you girls up and introduce you to Mr. Sidney.”
The line was busy, however, so she led her friends toward the stairs.
Carol came toward them. “How did you ever persuade Mr. Jemitt to let me join you?” she whispered. “He’s furious, but he doesn’t dare offend a patron or lose a big order.”
“I’m glad he thinks I’m a worthwhile customer,” Nancy answered with a wink.
As she climbed to the tower, Nancy was thoughtful. Carol was evidently browbeaten and unhappy. Was this part of the mystery at the old inn? Yet there seemed to be a bond between the thin, timid girl and Asa Sidney—a bond which the Jemitts did not approve.
Nancy had arrived at no conclusion when the girls reached the door of the tower room and knocked. Bess and George gave a little start when they saw the ghostly room and its elderly occupant.
“I’m afraid you’ll find this strange tower of mine scarcely prepared for your delightful visit,” Mr. Sidney said with quaint courtesy. “However, you are most welcome.”
Bess and George gazed at the twisted candles that gleamed everywhere. Along one side stood a wide couch which evidently served the recluse as a bed. On the opposite wall were framed patent grants for things he had invented.
One entire side of the room was occupied by an open charcoal furnace and a worktable. On the table stood pots, pans, dye vats, bars of tallow and beeswax, and rows of pewter candle molds. Nancy introduced her friends merely as Bess and George, and was glad when Mr. Sidney did not ask for their last names.
The cousins were silent, obviously awed by the strange surroundings and the remarkable spectacle the old man made as he moved about the room. The candlelight gave an aura of glowing silver to his mass of hair. He kept scoffing at himself for being slow and clumsy.
“Oh, I’m forgetting my phone call!” Nancy exclaimed. “The line was busy when I tried it before.” She had noted there was no phone in the tower. Therefore Mr. Sidney did not have this means of communicating with the outside world.
As Nancy went down the stairway, now dimly lighted with wall candles, she heard someone ascending. It was Jemitt, grumbling under his breath and carrying a large covered tray. A few steps behind came Carol, similarly burdened.
“Ah, miss, I’ll be ready for you in a moment,” Jemitt said pleasantly.
“I’m going down to phone,” Nancy explained.
She closed herself into the booth. In a moment Hannah Gruen, the warmhearted, efficient housekeeper of the Drew household, answered.
“Hello. This is Nancy.”
“Thank goodness you called,” Hannah said. “I was getting worried. Did you find the place?”
“Oh, yes, it’s very quaint. I’ll tell you about it when I get home. Bess and George and I are having dinner here. Will you please call their parents for them.”
“Glad to. But I want to know, did you speak to their relative?”
“Yes. I must go now.”
“Tell me first, what’s his name?”
“Sidney—Asa Sidney. It’s his birth—”
“Asa Sidney!” Hannah cried out. “Oh, Nancy, now you’re in for trouble!”
Click!
The line suddenly went dead, and although Nancy tried for five minutes to have the connection restored, she was unsuccessful. Evidently the wind had blown down some wires.
Nancy climbed the stairs, more puzzled than ever. How could old Asa Sidney make trouble for her?