Chapter 14 The Password to Larkspur Lane by Carolyn Keene
Honors for Nancy
A long, shadowy bulk in the darkness, with the gleam of polished metal visible here and there by reflected light, was all that Nancy could see. Altogether, it was the most exciting way in the world to become owner of a new automobile.
“Mr. French?” asked Mr. Drew in subdued tones.
“Yes,” was the reply. “What are your plans?”
“My daughter’s other car is at our front door. Will you go around to the house and take it with you?” the lawyer requested. “Here are the keys. If anyone there stops you, tell him who you are. I’ve arranged so that you won’t be interfered with.”
“This sounds like a mystery,” commented the man as he stepped from the car. “But knowing your daughter’s reputation as a solver of mysteries, I’m not surprised to——”
“We must hurry,” broke in Mr. Drew. “I’m sorry I can’t explain things to you now. Nancy, may I present Mr. French?”
Nancy acknowledged the introduction, and immediately slid into the driver’s seat.
“Have you any directions about the running of this automobile?” she asked. “Anything different from my other car?”
“There are many improvements and new gadgets,” the salesman announced, “but nothing different in the actual driving.”
“Then we’re off, Father!” cried the excited girl.
Mr. Drew had put the suitcases into the rumble seat and now jumped in beside his daughter. He was not a moment too soon, for just then a flashlight gleamed at the top of the garden wall. Was someone going to delay their stealthy departure after all?
“Oh!” exclaimed Nancy, as the light vanished and she could dimly make out a man’s form climbing over the fence.
Hastily she felt for the pedals, and in a moment the motor responded. Then the car moved quickly down the street. Mr. Drew, looking back, saw a running figure, but by this time it was so far back he was sure their pursuer could not read their license number nor recognize the make of the new automobile.
“I think we’re safe,” he said. “Would you rather have me take the wheel?”
“Oh, Father, let me drive a bit,” Nancy begged. “The car is a beauty. You’re just the grandest Dad in all the world. This machine handles marvelously,” she added, pushing down the accelerator and listening to the quiet and steady purr of the engine, yet sensing the power within it.
“Father, please look back. Is anyone following us?”
Mr. Drew craned his neck.
“If Adam Thorne is sneaking up, I’ll lead him a merry chase with my new automobile.”
“I see no one,” announced the lawyer.
“We’ve eluded our pursuers at last,” Nancy exulted. “After all, it may have been Jim Durkin or the patrolman coming over the garden wall to speak to us. It doesn’t matter. Now, I’m going to enjoy this drive.”
Thrilled to the finger tips, Nancy guided the car toward Sylvan Lake, and in half an hour was at the gate of that exclusive resort, asking the guard to telephone to the Corning cottage. Directions were given how to reach it, and after a few minutes’ drive along a winding road beneath great pines that edged the water, the Drews reached the gayly illuminated summer home of Nancy’s chum.
Helen was highly excited at her friend’s arrival. Mr. Drew quickly explained to her parents the reasons for their unusual intrusion.
“This is rather an abrupt way of accepting an invitation,” he said, telling them of the need for Nancy’s hasty departure from the town of River Heights.
Mr. and Mrs. Corning insisted that they were only too delighted to have Nancy, and Mr. Drew for overnight as well. The attorney, however, said he had changed his mind about staying, and felt that if a car were available, he would leave at once. Mr. Corning volunteered his own, which Mr. Drew refused with thanks, and soon a limousine from the colony garage was at the door. Nancy bade her father a fond farewell.
“If there is any news,” she said, “I’ll telephone to you at once.”
“All right, dear, but above all be careful,” Mr. Drew warned.
“I’ll watch her,” Helen laughed.
The girls returned to the house, and before retiring enjoyed some sandwiches and ginger ale. Then, tired but happy, they went to bed.
Morning dawned clear and cool. Nancy should have liked to have taken her new car and gone off at once in pursuit of her mystery. However, she courteously deferred to her hostess’s wishes, and instead went for a swim.
Luck was with Nancy!
Tons of ocean sand had been brought overland to make a beach for the group of cottages in which the Corning summer home stood. A float was moored a few rods from shore with a tower and springboard for those who liked high diving. Nancy, in a very becoming blue and white bathing suit, and Helen in a red one, swam out to the float on which a dozen young people were frolicking. Helen introduced Nancy to her friends.
One girl, a tall brunette two or three years older than Nancy, narrowed her eyes as the young men at once flocked around the newcomer. She had been introduced as Nina Shaw, “the amateur swimming champion.”
Intent on attracting some attention to herself, Nina suddenly asked, “What about a little diving?”
With that she climbed slowly up to the tower, posing every step of the way. On the platform, fifteen feet above the water, the girl struck a theatrical attitude, and then launched herself into the air in a clean dive that scarcely rippled the surface of the lake.
“Come on, everybody,” a young man called. “Let’s follow the leader!”
Everyone trooped up the ladder. One after the other they dived. At each round Nina made the feat more difficult—swan dive, jackknife, somersault—until most of the young folks dropped laughingly out of the competition.
The contest had attracted the attention of most of the campers, who thronged the shore, or put out in canoes and rowboats to the float.
At last only Nina, Nancy, and a brawny young man remained to climb to the diving platform. Nina paused a moment, and then lay at full length on the springboard, her head over the edge. She put her hands over her shoulders, grasped the edge of the board, and raised her legs and body until she was standing on her shoulders. With a thrust forward she turned a backward somersault and, revolving in the air, hit the water. She had miscalculated, however, and landed in a sitting position, sending a column of foam high into the air. Laughingly she was dragged onto the float, lame from the impact.
“That’s too much for me,” the young man said. “Do you want to try it, Miss Drew?”
Nancy was never one to cry quits. Although the dive was one which she had never before performed, she carefully followed the preparations Miss Shaw had made. Exerting every muscle, she balanced upside down on the edge of the board for a breath-taking moment, then thrust herself off. Her body revolved in the air, and straightened out so that her pointed toes cleaved the water like a knife. Down, down, down into the green waters of the lake she plunged, then bobbed up to the surface to hear the cheers of the throng.
Panting, she climbed back onto the float, and as she threw herself down in the sun to rest, Nina Shaw came to Nancy, rubbing herself ruefully.
“That was well done,” she said, with a trace of condescension in her voice, yet with a gallant effort to be generous. “I didn’t time myself right, but you dived like a champion.”
“It was just luck,” Nancy insisted. “I probably couldn’t do it again.”
She basked in the sun awhile, her eyes closed. Suddenly she was aroused by Helen vigorously shaking her shoulder. Nancy sat up to see a war canoe laden with small boys sweeping toward the float. Two bronzed young men, one in the bow and one in the stern, guided the craft, and the youth in front was Ned Nickerson.
“Hello, there, Nancy!” he cried. “What a jolly surprise. Hello, Helen! When did you get here and how long are you staying?”
“Just arrived, and we’ll be here for a long time,” Helen replied.
“Great! Then perhaps you haven’t had time to be asked to the dance tonight?” Ned said eagerly. “Will you girls be my guests at the Yacht Club? I’ll bring some of the other boys.”
“I’d love to go,” Nancy said, while Helen told Ned that she had already accepted an invitation.
“You know Buck Rodman?” she asked. “We’ll all go together.”
“See you later, then,” Ned called, backing water. “Got to return my young charges to camp.”
The girls waved good-by and sat down to relax. Just then a curly-haired little tot of about five suddenly stumbled over Helen and landed with a thump on Nancy’s right arm.
“Oh,” exclaimed Nancy, and “ooh!” mimicked the little girl.
“Marie Eldridge!” a woman’s voice called from a canoe moored to the float. “Look where you are walking, dear. Tell the lady you are sorry.”
“I’m aw’fy sorry,” the little child said sincerely.
Nancy, however, was so startled at hearing the name Eldridge that she immediately forgot all about the annoyance of the incident.
“Hello, Marie,” she said. “Do you live near here?”
“I live in St. Louis,” the little girl said, overcome with shyness. She backed away, her fingers to her lips.
“Look out!” Nancy cried.
It was too late, however. The tot had stepped too far and tumbled backward over the edge of the float into deep water.
“Oh, the speedboat!” Helen screamed. “Marie will be run down!”