Chapter 1 The Message in the Hollow Oak by Carolyn Keene
A Winning Title
“Carson Drew, Attorney at Law . . . Private.”
Nancy frowned as she regarded the neatly-lettered sign on the door of her father’s inner office. Her pretty face was flushed, and her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. She had such wonderful news to relate, yet it seemed that the door would never open. Conferences took entirely too long!
“It’s hard to wait,” she told Mr. Drew’s efficient secretary.
“I’d tell your father you are here, but he especially requested me not to disturb him.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t want to interrupt him,” Nancy said hastily. “I imagine the conference is very important, or it wouldn’t take so long.”
“Your father is conferring with Marcus Taylor, I believe.”
Nancy looked up with interest.
“Not the builder who holds such extensive lumber interests in the North?”
“Yes, I believe that is the man. At any rate, I know Mr. Taylor is bringing suit against a Canadian company, for I worked on some of the papers in the case this morning.”
“I’ve heard a great deal about him,” Nancy remarked. “I should like to meet him very much.”
She lowered her voice just then, for the inside office door had opened. Carson Drew and a ruddy-cheeked individual of about fifty emerged. The latter wore loose fitting garments, and walked along with the easy glide of one who has spent the greater part of his life in the out-of-doors.
“Well, Nancy, this is indeed a pleasant surprise,” the lawyer smiled at his daughter, turning to present his companion to her. “Nancy, this is Mr. Taylor.”
“Chip off the old block, I’ll warrant,” the lumberman chuckled. “I’ve heard it said she could run you out of business, Mr. Drew, if she was of a mind to hang up her shingle!”
Nancy laughed at the implied compliment, and then changed the subject.
“I am taking a vacation from mysteries just now, Mr. Taylor. I’m interested in broadcasting at present.”
“Broadcasting?” her father inquired.
“Oh, Dad, that’s what I came here to tell you!” Nancy could not withhold her news another instant. “I’ve won first prize in a radio contest!”
“I didn’t even know that you had entered one,” Carson Drew returned in surprise.
“I did it a short while ago on the spur of the moment, and then forgot all about it until the letter came today. You see, the Velvet Company offered a prize to the person who suggested the best mystery title for a continued story written by Ann Chapelle. I listened to each broadcast because the tale was so interesting. Just for the fun of it I sent in a title, never expecting to win even a small prize. I was astonished when the letter and deed arrived.”
“Deed?” her father inquired alertly.
“Yes. The Velvet Company also sent me a map so that I might locate the land.”
“Do you mean to tell me you’ve been awarded a piece of real estate, Nancy?”
“Yes, and I’m so excited about it. I’ve never owned a tract of land before.”
“Where is this property?” her father demanded suspiciously. “Some place down in Florida, buried two feet under water?”
Nancy took the deed from her pocket and thrust it into Mr. Drew’s hand.
“Don’t look so glum, Father,” she said. “It’s in Canada, and I’m sure it must be worth something.”
“Worth the taxes on it,” Carson Drew responded dryly. He glanced briefly at the paper, then handed it over to his companion. “You are familiar with Canadian land, Mr. Taylor. Can you tell us anything about this place?”
“The property seems to be located in the Vicinity of Lake Wellington,” the lumberman informed the two. “I frequently spend my summers there.”
“Then is it a nice place?” Nancy asked.
“Very pleasant in summer, but cold as Greenland in winter. The land itself is unimproved, valued principally for its timber and mineral rights. But if your property should happen to be located near the lake, it might be used as a summer resort or a fishing camp.”
“I fear it won’t be worth anything,” Nancy admitted, a trifle crestfallen.
“The best way to find out is to go there,” Carson Drew declared cheerfully.
“There won’t be much chance of that, I fear, from what Mr. Taylor says. It’s too great a distance,” she sighed.
“It isn’t that far away,” Marcus Taylor smiled. “Wild country, of course, but not a great distance from a railroad.”
“Why not go up there and look over the property?” Mr. Drew suggested.
Nancy stared in amazed delight.
“Do you really mean that, Father?”
“Yes, if you can find some older person to accompany you. I’ll be out of town for a week or so on business. That would be an excellent time for you to make the trip.”
“Mr. Taylor, you’re not going to Lake Wellington, are you?” Nancy asked eagerly.
The lumberman shook his head regretfully.
“I wish I could get away for a few weeks, I’m so homesick for the smell of pine air. Can’t make it, though, until my lawsuit is wiped off the slate. But I know a woman who is leaving for the place in a few days!”
“Would she take me with her, do you think?” Nancy asked hopefully.
“She would if I were to ask her. We’re old friends. Why, Mrs. Taylor and I have stayed at Mrs. Donnelly’s boarding house every summer we’ve spent in the North. She’s a motherly soul and would take right good care of you.”
“Where is she now?” Carson Drew questioned.
“She’s expected in River Heights within a few days, I understand. She has been visiting a sister living near by, but is coming here. She’ll be returning to Canada shortly to open up her boarding house for the summer.”
“May I go with her, Father?” Nancy asked.
“If she’s willing to take you along, I see no reason why you should not make the trip. I’ll speak to her at the very first opportunity.”
“I wish Bess Marvin and George Fayne could go with me, too,” Nancy went on, thinking aloud. “What a lark that would be!”
Few persons guessed that George and Bess were girl cousins, so unlike were they in appearance and disposition. Bess was pretty, lady-like and sedate. She took pride in her person, and gave particular care to her luxurious locks. George had cropped her straight dark hair as short as the style would permit, and combed and brushed it as infrequently as possible. It was her desire to be just as boyish looking as she could, and carried out her name as much as she dared.
“What would you think of Mrs. Donnelly chaperoning the girls and myself?” Nancy repeated.
“I’d feel sorry for the poor woman!” her father teased. “But all joking aside, I think it’s splendid that you have won the tract of land, and I hope it turns out to be valuable.”
Nancy took leave of the lumberman. Then, with the precious deed in her purse she hurried away to show it to her chums, George and Bess. She hoped that they would be able to accompany her North, for with them in the party the trip would be certain to develop into a splendid adventure.
She tripped along with a light step, so engrossed in building beautiful air castles that she hardly noticed where she was going. The loud toot of an automobile horn sounded in her ears. Looking around, she realized that she was at the busy intersection across from the National Bank.
As she waited for a signal, that she might be able to cross the street, she saw an elderly lady coming toward her, bent low beneath the weight of a heavy suitcase. Impulsively Nancy rushed to the stranger’s aid.
“You shouldn’t carry such a big load,” the girl chided gently. “Please let me help you.”
With a tired sigh the white-haired woman relinquished her burden.
“I am almost worn out,” she admitted, smiling at Nancy. “You see, I expected a man to meet me here but he failed to keep the appointment. Maybe you’ve seen him—he’d be in a dark red car.”
Nancy shook her head.
“I haven’t, but he may be along any minute now. Have you far to go?”
“Several blocks,” she replied. “However, I must stop at a bank to change a twenty-dollar bill.”
“The National Bank is just across the street,” Nancy indicated. “If you like, I’ll stay here with the suitcase while you do your errand.”
“That’s very kind of you, I’m sure. It will take me only five minutes.”
The woman cautiously made her way across the street, and disappeared into the bank. Ten minutes passed, and still she did not return. Nancy grew a trifle impatient as she waited at the curb with the heavy grip.
“It would be a good joke on me if she shouldn’t come back,” the girl thought uneasily. “I’m always getting into trouble doing impulsive things.”
At that moment a dark red automobile drew up to the curb. The driver, a dapper man in his late thirties, hailed Nancy.
“I’ll relieve you of that suitcase, young lady,” he cried.
Nancy regarded him suspiciously.
“I am keeping it for an elderly woman who is in the bank.”
“Sure, I know,” he smiled disarmingly. “She’s my grandmother.”
“Then you’re the man in the red car who was supposed to meet her?”
“That’s right. I was held up in a traffic jam.”
The man stepped from the machine, and before Nancy could protest took the suitcase and placed it in the rear luggage compartment.
“I’ll run over to the bank and tell her you are waiting,” Nancy offered.
She hurried across the street. Entering the building, she was greatly relieved to meet the elderly woman just inside the doorway.
“Your grandson is waiting for you,” Nancy explained. “He drove up in the car and I left the suitcase with him.”
“But I have no grandson.”
Nancy was bewildered.
“This man drove up in a dark red car, and said you were his grandmother. I hope I have made no mistake—”
In panic she rushed to the street. Her worst fears were confirmed. The man in the red car had vanished!