Chapter 5 The Sign of the Twisted Candles by Carolyn Keene
Buried Chest
With the speed of a panther Nancy grabbed Mrs. Jemitt’s arms and swung her around out of the way. Then, crying “Come on, Dad!” she ran up the steps two at a time.
Her father followed, leaving Mrs. Jemitt muttering below. Nancy rapped on the door of Asa Sidney’s tower room. The old man called to them to enter.
“Ah, Miss Drew, I can’t confuse you this bright morning with a musty old painting. Mr. Drew, how are you, sir? Please excuse me for not rising. I am somewhat weak today after a tempestuous night. Draw up a chair.”
“Don’t disturb yourself, Mr. Sidney.” The lawyer placed his bulging brief case on the table and pulled a chair close to the old man’s seat. “Mrs. Jemitt said you were ill.”
Mr. Sidney frowned. “How would she know? She hasn’t been near me nor has Jemitt. Carol brought up my breakfast.
“Well, let’s get down to business. I wish to make a new will,” the old man said. “Please understand that despite my dowdy surroundings, I am prepared to meet your fee, Mr. Drew. I want the best legal advice, and I can afford to pay for it.”
Nancy stepped quietly from the room and closed the door behind her. She paused on the first step to glance out the small window that gave a minimum of light to the stairway. The corner of an old barn was visible. Beyond this was the edge of a forest that grew denser and taller as it stretched toward some hills.
A movement below attracted her attention. Frank Jemitt, dressed in overalls, was coming from the inn. He carried a shovel and a large covered basket which seemed to be very heavy, and kept looking around furtively.
“He certainly acts suspicious,” Nancy thought.
Jemitt paused close to the barn, which was at the end of the property farthest from the road. The man looked about him, studied the windows of the house carefully, and then began to dig quickly.
“He’s going to bury something!” Nancy speculated.
The hole satisfied Jemitt before it was much more than eighteen inches deep and about as wide. He reached into the basket and took out a small chest.
Nancy gasped. She was sure it was the one marked Private property of Asa Sidney which she had seen in the tower room the preceding night!
The chest was about a foot square and eight or ten inches in depth. It was made of ebony and strengthened by brass straps and studs of the same material. Evidently Jemitt knew its contents were valuable.
“What’s in it?” Nancy asked herself. “Valuable papers perhaps, or silver? Asa Sidney may have some fine old antique pieces.”
Nancy was puzzled. If Jemitt was stealing the chest, why bury it? Why not take it away and sell the contents?
Jemitt dropped the box into the hole and dragged some logs over it from a nearby woodpile. Then he carefully scooped up all the earth dug from the hole, put it into his basket, and scattered it in the woods. Then he went toward the house.
“There’s more going on at this place than one sees at a glance,” Nancy thought. “I’m sure Asa Sidney didn’t ask Jemitt to hide that chest.” She continued on downstairs.
When Nancy reached the second floor, Carol was coming from one of the bedrooms. Evidently she had been waiting for Nancy.
“Hello,” she said in a subdued voice.
Nancy sensed that Carol had something to tell her, but did not know how to begin. She gave the girl an opening.
“Mr. Sidney must have decided very suddenly to make a new will,” she remarked.
“Hush!” Carol whispered, looking cautiously about. “I didn’t say anything to Father or Mother Jemitt about it. I—I— Oh, Nancy, I’m so worried and upset.”
“Why, Carol?” Nancy asked.
“I wish I could get it all straight in my mind.” The girl sighed. “I love old Mr. Sidney. He’s so friendless and pathetic.
“Last night, right after you left, a man came to see him—some relative who’s been here before, usually late at night, but Father would never let him go upstairs. But this time he went up, anyway. A little while afterward, another man came and he too insisted upon going up.
“The most terrible argument broke out between the two men. We could hear them shouting way downstairs in the kitchen. Father Jemitt crept up and listened outside the door.
“The arguments would die down and then break out again. After about an hour the second caller left. He caught Father Jemitt eavesdropping and scolded him terribly. A few minutes later the other man left, slamming the door behind him.”
Nancy frowned. “Poor Mr. Sidney! No wonder he said he’d had a tempestuous night.”
“Did you know,” Carol went on, “that there’s some kind of family feud between Mr. Sidney’s wife’s family and his own relatives?”
“I suspected so,” Nancy replied, but did not give any details. “Go on with your story, Carol.”
“Father Jemitt was very angry at having been discovered. When he came downstairs he ordered me to bed. But I could hear poor Mr. Sidney pacing the floor, so finally I went up to see him.
“He said to me, ‘Carol, will you call Mr. Drew? I want to make a new will.’ He asked me to make the appointment secretly. I am— Oh, Nancy, I can’t tell you.”
“Never mind, then. You must do as you are requested,” Nancy said. “But I wonder what Mr. and Mrs. Jemitt will think when they find out.”
“Mother Jemitt left the house to walk to the bus right after you came,” Carol explained. “Father Jemitt gave me orders that he was not to be disturbed. He’s working out in the garage, making some repairs on our car.”
“When will Mrs. Jemitt be home?” Nancy asked.
“She is home!” said a harsh voice behind her.
They shrank back in alarm. To Carol’s horror and Nancy’s surprise, the innkeeper’s wife had flung open the door of a nearby room. She held a hairbrush in her hand.
“Carol, you nasty little tattletale!” the woman shouted. “You had better be more sure of my whereabouts before you start blabbing family affairs to strangers!”
The angry woman thrust her scrawny neck out toward Carol and waved the brush menacingly.
“I heard every word you said, you impudent brat! And as for you, young lady,” she said to Nancy, “the idea of your gossiping with this simple-minded girl is more than I’ll take!”
Nancy leveled her calm blue eyes on the irate woman. For a moment Mrs. Jemitt faltered. Then, regaining her courage, the woman burst out again into a bitter tirade.
“For six years we’ve worked and slaved to make a home for Carol, and this is our reward!”
Carol cowered against Nancy, and her thin body quivered.
“If you act like a two-year-old you’ll have to be treated like one,” Mrs. Jemitt cried, hitting Carol on the shoulder with the back of the brush.
The girl gave a cry of pain as the brush descended again, this time on her knuckles. Nancy’s face turned white with mingled disgust and anger.
“Stop!” she said, at the same time pulling Carol out of her foster mother’s reach and jumping in front of the girl.
Mrs. Jemitt’s eyes blazed. “Who are you to come interfering with a mother correcting a wayward child? The nerve of you! Why, you’re only a youngster yourself!”
“You certainly are proving yourself unfit to take a mother’s place,” Nancy replied evenly.
Choking with rage, Mrs. Jemitt lashed out at Nancy, striking her on the arm with the brush. She raised her hand again to repeat the blow, but Nancy deftly caught the woman’s wrist and wrenched the hairbrush from her.
“I could have you arrested for that,” she said.
“Who do you think you are?” sneered Mrs. Jemitt, but she made no attempt to take the brush, perhaps fearing that Nancy might use it!
“Who I am makes no difference, so far as your attacking me goes,” Nancy replied.
“We’ll see about that,” the woman said. “This is my house and I can run it as I see fit, and that includes getting rid of intruders!”
Nancy answered without flinching, “This is not your house, and I am not an intruder!”
Mrs. Jemitt’s jaw dropped. “Wh-what do you mean?” she stammered.
“This house belongs to Asa Sidney and I am here at his invitation.”
“Who are you then, if you know everything?” the woman demanded.
“My name is Nancy Drew. Carson Drew is my father. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”
“Carson Drew—the lawyer?” Mrs. Jemitt’s arrogance suddenly vanished. “His name is in the papers all the time—and I’ve seen yours there, too. I didn’t know who you were. I’m sorry I hit you. You won’t tell your father, will you?” she begged. “I’ll do anything to make amends.”
“I’ll make a bargain with you,” Nancy said. “I won’t tell my father if you’ll promise not to harm Carol.”
“I promise.”
Nancy walked downstairs with the speechless Carol following. The young detective seated herself in the center of one of the empty dining rooms and motioned the other girl to take a chair.
Then, in a low voice, Nancy asked, “What is really troubling you?”
Carol began to speak, then closed her mouth. Nancy knew she would have to do some prodding.
“Are you suspicious, Carol, that the Jemitts are not completely honest?”
Carol gave a start. “Nancy, how did you guess?”