Chapter 3 The Password to Larkspur Lane by Carolyn Keene
Shadowed!
Nancy had heard many a strange and thrilling story in her career, but none to surpass the adventure related by Dr. Spires that night in his study. Then she was to find herself suddenly caught up in a chain of swiftly moving events which might have caused a girl with a heart less stout to seek refuge far from home.
Hannah, made comfortable for the night, had assured Nancy she was not the least bit afraid of being left alone in the house, and thereupon the girl had left for the surgeon’s home with her distinguished father. Carson Drew, you may believe, was no less keen to hear the doctor’s side of the mysterious automobile ride. At their impromptu supper Nancy had of course told her relative about the closed car into which Dr. Spires had vanished, the pigeon’s message, and the queer reference to “blue bells” repeated in the telephoned warning.
“Gracious, Nancy, you seem to attract mystery as a magnet attracts iron,” Carson Drew had laughed at the end of the recital, but he was secretly flattered that Dr. Spires should have asked his daughter’s assistance.
Nancy and her father parked their roadster and entered the specialist’s home.
“You will excuse my wife’s absence,” the surgeon said, as he seated his guests in his study. “I did not want to worry her, and she agreed to go to the theater with a friend when I suggested it, not knowing that I had asked you here.”
“We understand, of course,” Mr. Drew said, his eyebrows raised significantly as he heard that the nature of the evening’s discussion was sufficiently grave to cause worry. Nancy, of course, was thrilled at the suggestion of mystery and danger.
“This afternoon,” began Dr. Spires, “I received a telephone call. At the time I merely thought of it as an emergency message, and responded without second thought.”
He was silent for a moment, his finger tips pressed together, and Nancy took advantage of the pause.
“Did the message call you out north of town?” she queried.
“Yes, north of town.”
“You entered a touring car with the curtains down?” she pursued.
Dr. Spires started from his seat.
“By Jove, Nancy, I passed you just a short way from my mysterious appointment, didn’t I? I remember now, but how did you know I entered the other machine? I am sure you drove on.”
“Yes, but slowly, and I kept watch in my mirror,” Nancy said. “I thought there was something queer about that car when I passed it.”
“If all persons had your powers of observation, it would be a safer world for us all to live in,” Dr. Spires commented. “However, I’ll proceed with the strange story.”
Mr. Drew leaned back comfortably in his chair, but Nancy sat forward in her seat, intent on every word the medical man uttered.
“The telephone message asked me to drive out on North Main Street. The speaker, a man whose voice I could not recognize, said that Mrs. Manning Smith—a patient of mine—had been in a minor accident but was demanding that I attend her.
“The speaker further said that Mrs. Smith had stepped out into the road from a meadow where she had been gathering wild flowers, and into the path of an automobile which had grazed her and knocked her down. He said that Mrs. Smith had explained she was already under treatment for a leg injury and did not want to be moved until I had examined her.
“That sounded perfectly plausible to me,” Dr. Spires continued. “Mrs. Smith is actually under my care for periosteal——”
Mr. Drew interrupted with a broad smile. “Never mind the technical terms, unless it has something to do with the case.”
“Which it hasn’t,” Nancy said musingly. “Mrs. Smith was not there at all.”
Dr. Spires shot the girl a puzzled look.
“You had sharper eyes than I when you passed that car, for I couldn’t see who was in it until the door was opened,” he said.
“I didn’t see; it was just a guess,” Nancy replied. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”
“Well, to shorten a long story,” the surgeon went on, “I came to the car, stopped—as you witnessed, Nancy—and as I walked back to it, the door of the other machine was opened. I stooped to look inside and suddenly my shoulders were seized, and I was snatched into the rear compartment. A hood-like cloth was pulled over my head, and a bandage fastened across it to seal my mouth. Then, while a man on each side held me firmly, the car sped off on a long ride.”
Mr. Drew sat forward in his chair at this revelation.
“How long did you ride?” Nancy asked. “It may be important.”
“About an hour, for I looked at my watch after I attended my patient. Yes, there was a patient in a great rambling house evidently far out in the country.
“It proved to be a woman suffering from a dislocated shoulder which had been ineffectually treated, so there was considerable swelling and exudation of lymph, especially around—but excuse me, those details are not important. In addition, she was practically in a coma from a heart attack.”
“She might have died,” muttered Nancy sympathetically.
“Yes,” agreed her father. “This involves many points.”
“I treated her at once,” continued the physician. “Then I set the dislocation and left directions how it was to be nursed. The woman was quite elderly, and needed good care. The man who had escorted me to the room blindfolded me again, and I was driven back to my car.”
Dr. Spires leaned back in his chair and wiped his forehead, while the Drews waited expectantly for the rest of his story.
“I was paid,” the surgeon said with a shrug. “A fifty-dollar bill was tucked into my pocket. I returned to find Nancy here with Mrs. Gruen, and asked her to come over with you, Carson. Now what do you make of it all?”
“I should like to hear your own theory first,” Mr. Drew returned.
“Well, I believe that the old woman I treated is being held against her will,” snapped Dr. Spires.
“Illegally confined,” said Mr. Drew.
“I was not allowed to question her at all, nor was I given a moment with her alone. Her name was refused to me.”
“What a shame!” exclaimed Nancy. “We must help her!”
“This rather involves you in what is certainly a criminal enterprise!” surmised Carson Drew thoughtfully.
“Have you no clues at all to any part of the trip, the patient, or the persons who took you there?” Nancy asked.
“I certainly have,” Dr. Spires cried triumphantly. “While I was taking the woman’s pulse, I slipped this bracelet from her arm.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a heavy, old-fashioned band of gold, which he handed to Nancy.
“A stolen clue! Hurrah!” exclaimed the girl excitedly.
“It was stealing, but justifiable, I guess,” he smiled. “It looks like an heirloom.”
“It has a coat of arms,” Nancy cried. “I am sure we can trace its ownership!”
“Now, then,” Dr. Spires continued, “I think I learned the password to the place, for as we turned into a driveway—I could tell by the creak of gates—the driver of the car said ‘Blue Bells,’ to someone on guard. The message you took over the phone, though, Nancy, indicates that it has been changed.”
“Never mind. I think I know the new countersign,” Nancy replied, and once again the surgeon stared at her in doubt.
She told the doctor the story of the wounded pigeon, the airplane, and the telegrams.
“And now,” Carson Drew declared, “I think we ought to report the whole business to the police. With your permission, Richard, I am going to tell your story to the head of the Detective Bureau. Nancy will drive me there tonight.”
Nancy and the doctor both thought it was wisest to lay the facts before the authorities, yet the girl secretly determined that she would solve the mystery on her own account.
After some refreshments Carson Drew and his daughter bade the worried physician good night and walked out the front door. As Nancy stepped onto the wide porch, she sensed that a shadowy figure suddenly passed silently toward a side street.
“Were we being watched?” wondered the girl as she waited for her father to shake hands with his physician friend. “I must be on my guard. Perhaps the doctor is more involved than we think, and by helping him we shall be in danger ourselves.”
Nancy drove downtown, as prearranged, to the River Heights Police Headquarters, saying nothing, however, to her father of the silent, slinking figure.
Suddenly she noticed twin headlights being reflected in her windshield, the right one slightly dimmer than the left. As she turned in and out through the streets it was evident that the car behind took the same route as she did, maintaining the exact speed of the Drew roadster.
Nancy became suspicious. Mr. Drew, apparently deep in thought, paid no attention to the occurrence, so Nancy refrained from calling it to his attention. However, she kept watch.
She slowed down at Police Headquarters.
“No place to park here,” she observed. “Hop out, Father, and start telling your story. I’ll join you as soon as I find a parking space.”
She observed a spot in which she could maneuver her roadster. Unfortunately, it was in a place between street lights, and hence the darkest location on the block. As she switched on her parking lights and locked her car, Nancy was startled by a strange voice.
“Say, Miss, who is that man you were driving?” was the question.
Nancy peered at the speaker. She saw heavy brows over beady eyes, and a wide, cruel mouth. The girl shuddered. She did not like the man’s looks nor his manner.
“I do not know you,” Nancy said shortly.
“Now don’t get mad,” said the stranger in honeyed tones. “But do tell me what the man is doing at Police Headquarters.”
Nancy, now very distrustful of this inquisitive and harsh-appearing individual, made no answer. She assumed he was the person who had been following them in the car.
“Won’t tell me, eh? All right. But I’m going to find out who your passenger was and his business.”
The girl, now suspecting that this man might have some connection with Dr. Spires’s kidnapers and have been sent as a spy to get information, said to him:
“Why do you want to know who we are?”
“Never mind that,” the stranger replied, “but it’s important that I should know.”
Abruptly Nancy turned on her heel. Then she came face to face with a young friend who was sauntering down the street.
“Well, Nancy Drew!” cried the girl. “What are you doing here?”
Nancy bade her good evening, berating her own bad luck in being thus identified. To make matters worse, the strange man chuckled diabolically.
“Aha, Nancy Drew, hey? Then it was your illustrious father, Carson Drew, who was with you, and who went to the police station!”
With that remark he stepped behind a parked car and disappeared on the opposite side of the street, leaving Nancy standing with a new anxiety in her heart. Was her beloved father also threatened with trouble?