Chapter 24 The Clue of the Broken Locket by Carolyn Keene
The Woman in Black
“It was about a year ago,” Mr. Skillman began. “I’d been working late at the garage and started home in a pretty bad storm. Just as I came to a bridge over the Muskoka River, a blinding streak of lightning lighted up the sky directly in front of me.
“A terrible clap of thunder followed. For a minute I was stunned, as if I might have been struck.”
“You weren’t?” Nancy questioned eagerly.
“No. I soon felt all right again and drove on across the bridge. Just then the lightning flashed again. I saw a woman lying along the river bank!”
“She had been struck!” Bess gasped.
“Yes, I thought at first she was dead. Then I worked over her for a while, and after some time she regained her senses enough so that I could get her to a doctor.”
“Did she recover?” George asked.
“In a way, yes, but folks say she’s never been the same since. She lives alone in a little house over by the cove. Doesn’t seem to have any friends and no one knows much about her.”
“What is her name?” Nancy asked with bated breath.
“Mrs. Stone.”
Nancy looked a trifle disappointed. She had hoped that the woman’s initials would tally with those on the locket she had found.
“You don’t know her first name, do you?”
“I don’t recall that I ever heard it.”
“When was it that you aided this woman?”
“About a year ago. In September.”
“Do you remember the exact date?”
“Let me think. Why, yes, I do, because my wife went to visit her cousin in Chicago that day. It was September 13th.”
Nancy sprang to her feet with an exclamation of pleasure.
“Girls, the dates tally exactly. That old newspaper Enos Crinkle told us about was dated September 13th, too!”
“So it was!” Bess murmured in awe. “Can there be any connection, do you think?”
“I’m sure of it!”
“But the woman’s name doesn’t correspond to the initials on the locket,” George pointed out skeptically.
Nancy refused to be disheartened.
“Stone may not be her real name,” she declared. “Perhaps for some reason she changed it. Oh, we must visit the cottage at once!”
“It’s easy to find,” the garageman directed. “Just take the river road and turn right when you come to the big bridge.”
The girls thanked Mr. Skillman again and raced for the car. As they turned into the side road at the bridge the mechanic had mentioned, Bess glanced back and was startled to see a yellow car following them.
“I believe it’s Abe Jacobs!” she exclaimed.
“It looks like his car,” George agreed.
Nancy stepped more firmly upon the gas pedal, and they went bouncing over the rough dirt road.
“They’re sure to overtake us!” Bess moaned. “We’ll all spend the night in jail before they finish with us!”
Nancy had sighted an empty boathouse directly ahead of them. It was wide open. Without an instant’s hesitation she drove the car into the shelter. George sprang out to close the doors.
“Driving in here was pure inspiration!” she chuckled. “I guess we’ve given them the slip again!”
The girls crouched near the window, watching for the approaching automobile. As it came to a halt a short distance from the dilapidated boathouse, they became uneasy. Would the men discover them?
“It’s funny. I wonder where that car went all of a sudden!” they heard Jacobs exclaim impatiently. “Believe me, if I ever catch Nancy Drew I’ll make her pay for this wild chase!”
“She must have taken that side road we passed a little way back,” Clancy suggested. “We’re only losing time to keep on.”
To the intense relief of the girls, the men turned their car and drove out of sight.
“Lucky for us they didn’t notice the wheel tracks!” Nancy laughed. “Now let’s hurry on to the cottage before we have any further delays.”
“I noticed a tiny house on the cliff overlooking the river,” Bess stated. “That must be the place.”
“Probably. We may as well leave the car here and walk,” Nancy suggested.
The three girls emerged from the boathouse. Finding a trail leading up the hillside, they followed it to a vine-covered cottage. Their knock brought an elderly servant to the door.
“Mrs. Stone isn’t here now,” she told the girls.
“When will she be in?” Nancy questioned eagerly. “I must see her.”
“She went out for a walk about an hour ago.” The woman shook her head sadly. “Poor Mrs. Stone! I feel so sorry for her. And the doctors can’t seem to help her at all.”
“Has your mistress been ill for some time?” Nancy inquired sympathetically.
“She hasn’t been herself since the day of the accident. You may have heard how it happened. She had crossed the river in a boat and was stepping ashore, when the lightning struck her. She would have died if it hadn’t been for a man named Skillman.”
“We were talking to him,” Nancy explained. “I feel so sorry for your mistress. I suppose she has many friends to help her.”
The servant shook her head.
“Mrs. Stone is a stranger to Crown Point. I never set eyes on her myself until I came here to work. I’ve learned to love her, though—she’s so sweet and kind. But she’s eating her heart out over something and the doctors haven’t been able to do anything to help her.”
The girls murmured sympathetically. Presently Nancy asked in what direction Mrs. Stone had gone for her walk.
“Since she’s been able to walk out by herself she always chooses the same path along the river.” The woman indicated a well-beaten trail. “You can’t miss her.”
“Perhaps you had better give us a description of her,” Nancy suggested.
“She is tall and slender, and has a sweet face—a madonna face, if you know what I mean.”
“Tell me her first name,” Nancy said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Sylvia.”
“Sylvia? Oh!”
Bess and George looked at their chum curiously, wondering why she became so startled. Since she as suddenly fell strangely silent, they took it upon themselves to thank the woman for the information.
When the cottage door had closed behind the servant, Nancy wheeled toward her chums, her face aglow.
“Girls, I’ve solved the mystery at last! I’ve found the mother of the twins!”
Bess and George regarded her incredulously. They thought that she was taking leave of her senses.
“The date this woman was found is the one before the day on which the twins were picked up,” Bess agreed. “I don’t see how you can prove any absolute connection among the three, though.”
From her pocketbook Nancy removed the two halves of the broken locket. She indicated the initials “S. M. N.” on the fragment she had taken from Enos Crinkle’s boat.
“The ‘S’ might stand for Sylvia,” George admitted, “but according to my alphabet ‘N’ doesn’t stand for Stone.”
“It doesn’t need to. You see, I know this woman’s real name. I’ve seen her picture and it tallies with the description her servant gave of her.”
“Who is she?” Bess and George cried in one breath.
Nancy did not answer, for already she was running up the path to the water’s edge.
“What a revelation it will be if I can convince the poor woman of the truth!” she thought. “I can’t get to her too soon!”
Later, Nancy always maintained that at that moment a voice from out of the air whispered to her to make haste. Leaving her chums far behind, she hurriedly climbed the trail leading to the cliff which overlooked the river.
Suddenly Nancy halted. She gasped slightly at what she saw. Far above her, at the edge of a large, flat rock, there knelt a woman in black. Her head was bowed, and she appeared to be in prayer.
Slowly she arose, and with her arms stretched out above her swayed toward the edge of the precipice.
“Wait!” Nancy screamed frantically. “I have news of your babies!”