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Chapter 6 The Message in the Hollow Oak by Carolyn Keene

The Lost Note
A rope swished through the air, and settled neatly about Bess’s shoulders. From the hall window above Nancy drew it tight, and held the girl back against the ledge.

The near fall had awakened Bess. Becoming aware of her situation, she uttered a terrified cry for help, and cringed against the wall.

“Don’t move! We’ll get you in a minute,” Nancy warned.

George and the two men had already lowered themselves upon the fire escape. With Nancy aiding from above by the skillful use of her rope, they managed to reach the frightened girl, and escort her back to the bedroom. Bess slumped down in a little heap.

“I was never so frightened before in all my life! Nancy, if you hadn’t thrown that rope when you did, I’d surely have been killed.”

“That was just a little trick I learned a couple of years ago at Shadow Ranch. Fortunately, I didn’t miss my aim.”

After the two attendants had left, the girls plied Bess with questions.

“I have no more idea than you have why I did it,” Bess told them ruefully. “As far as I know, I have never before walked in my sleep. I suppose it was because I was so upset about the wreck. And I had such an awful nightmare.”

“What was it like?” George asked curiously.

“Oh, I can’t remember the first part of it—but some dreadful animal seemed to be pursuing me. Then the dream shifted, and I thought someone was after Nancy’s papers.”

“That was because I mentioned them just before you went to sleep,” Nancy smiled.

“I suppose so. Anyway, I thought I’d get up and put them in a safer place. I remember going over to the dresser. The next moment I woke up to find myself on that ledge.” Bess shuddered again at the realization of what might have happened to her.

Being reminded of the precious deed to her property, Nancy glanced toward the dresser expecting to find her purse where she had left it, but it was not there.

“Bess, you don’t suppose you actually picked up the pocketbook, do you?” she inquired anxiously, looking about the room.

Almost at once she saw the purse lying open on the carpet, and snatched it up. One glance inside revealed that the deed was missing.

“Oh, what have I done!” Bess exclaimed in distress. “You don’t suppose I actually took your papers and hid them somewhere, do you?”

“It begins to look as if you did,” Nancy was forced to say ruefully.

George was struck by a sudden thought.

“I seem to recall that Bess held something white in her hand when we first saw her standing on that ledge! Perhaps she dropped the deed into the garden.”

“Yes, and I noticed something flutter to the ground just as I threw the rope,” Nancy added with reviving hope.

“I’ll find out if it’s lying in the garden now,” George declared.

She crossed over to the window and peered down. Involuntarily she emitted a low exclamation of dismay.

“What is it?” Nancy cried, springing to her friend’s side.

She caught a glimpse of a man retreating down the alley.

“I saw him pick up a paper from beneath the window!” George announced tensely. “I was too startled to call out until he had moved away. Oh, Nancy, I’m just as sure as anything that it was your lost deed!”

“It’s useless to go after him, for he’s too far away now,” Nancy said in a discouraged tone. “I suppose the paper is lost and with it, my chances of ever claiming my Canadian property.”

“It’s all my fault,” Bess accused herself gloomily. “If I had the money, I’d pay you for that land.”

Nancy squeezed her chum’s hand.

“Don’t feel bad about it, Bess. After all that’s happened tonight, the property doesn’t seem as important to me as it did before.”

“But to think that I deliberately threw away your papers! I don’t understand how I could have done such a crazy thing, even in my sleep.”

“There’s a possibility the deed will be returned,” Nancy remarked thoughtfully. “At any rate, I’ll run an ad in the paper tomorrow. The man who picked up the document may see it and apply for a reward.”

Bess felt too upset over the entire matter to go back to sleep. Since it was almost five o’clock, the girls finished their dressing and sent downstairs for hot coffee. As soon as the dining room opened they had breakfast. Yet, despite Nancy’s attempts to keep up a cheerful conversation, a feeling of deep gloom prevailed.

At their first opportunity the girls dispatched an advertisement to the local paper, offering a reward for the return of the missing deed. Scarcely had they finished telephoning, than the hotel clerk called them over to the desk.

“I have good news for you at last,” he told the girls cheerfully.

“Our friends have been saved?” Bess gasped.

“Yes. Mrs. Donnelly and Miss Chapelle are both at the Good Hope Hospital.”

“They’re not seriously injured?” Nancy questioned anxiously.

“I couldn’t learn that. The best thing for you to do will be to hire a car and drive out there. It isn’t more than five miles into the country.”

“We’ll start just as soon as we can find a means of conveyance,” Nancy decided.

With the aid of the helpful clerk they found a driver, who for a nominal sum agreed to take them to the Good Hope Hospital. As they were leaving town Nancy caught a glimpse of the newspaper office.

“Stop here just a minute,” she directed the driver, and explained to Bess and George, “I want to run in and see if my advertisement has been copied correctly.”

She vanished into the building, to return within a few minutes, a letter clutched in her hand. Triumphantly she flashed it before George and Bess.

“It couldn’t be an answer to your advertisement!” the latter gasped. “That would be impossible, because the paper hasn’t been issued yet!”

“Shortly after I telephoned this morning, a man came into the office and left this letter. He told the editor to give it to anyone claiming to have lost an important paper near the Hamilton Hotel!”

“What does the note say?” George demanded impatiently.

Nancy ripped open the cheap envelope and scanned the brief message. She looked slightly disappointed.

“Why, it doesn’t say a thing about the lost deed. It just asks me to call at the Ranny farm six miles south of Windham.”

“Where is Windham?” Bess questioned curiously of the taxi man.

“This is Windham,” the driver informed her, a tinge of scorn in his voice.

“We didn’t think of inquiring the name of the town last night,” Bess said apologetically. “We were so upset on account of the wreck.”

“Windham is one of the nicest little places in the U. S. A.,” the driver went on proudly. “Not far from the Canadian border, either.”

“We must drive out to the Ranny farm at the first opportunity,” Nancy decided. “If it should happen that my deed has been recovered, I’ll feel greatly relieved.”

“If you get the paper back, we may be able to go on to Wellington Lake a little later,” George added a trifle wistfully. “Just think—if everything hadn’t gone wrong we’d be there now.”

A brief ride over bumpy dirt roads brought the girls to the Good Hope Hospital, a county institution. Entering the lobby, they anxiously inquired for their friends.

“Mrs. Donnelly is doing very well,” they were informed by the girl at the desk. “Unfortunately, we can’t say as much for Miss Chapelle. She has been seriously injured, and is suffering from the loss of a great deal of blood.”

The girls were led into Mrs. Donnelly’s room. The patient was overjoyed at seeing them.

“I couldn’t sleep last night for worrying about you,” the woman declared. “Had one of you been injured, I never could have faced your parents.”

“And we spent the night worrying about you,” Nancy smiled.

“I don’t wonder you did, for I was whisked away to this hospital almost before I knew I had been hurt. I had just gone to the dressing room when the crash came. I was thrown to the floor and must have lost consciousness. In any event, when I came to I was in a car being transported to this place. I learned later that I was the first person taken from the wreck.”

“Are you feeling better?” Nancy inquired.

“Yes indeed. The doctor tells me I’ll be able to leave here in a few days.”

The girls talked with Mrs. Donnelly a while longer. Presently a nurse came to warn them that they must not tire the patient by remaining over their allotted fifteen minutes.

“May we see Miss Chapelle?” Nancy asked, when they were again in the corridor.

The nurse hesitated.

“If you wish to do so, you may go in for a minute or two, but that is all. Be careful not to excite her, for her condition is grave.”

Nancy was shocked as she entered Miss Chapelle’s room. The authoress, swathed in bandages, scarcely moved a muscle as the girls approached her bed. Yet as Nancy bent over the pale, wan face, a gleam of recognition flashed into the woman’s pain-stricken eyes.

“I’m near the end,” she murmured, very low.

“You mustn’t say that,” Nancy told her encouragingly. “Of course you’ll get well again.”

Miss Chapelle shook her head.

“I shall die—I know it. I am glad you came, for there is something I must tell you.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. Nancy moved nearer, that she might not miss a word.

“It’s the story of—” The woman faltered; she could not finish. She closed her eyes, completely exhausted.

“Don’t try to tell me now,” Nancy said compassionately.

Even as she spoke, she realized that there might never be another time in which to hear the story. The authoress was sinking rapidly.

Miss Chapelle made one last desperate attempt to speak, raising up her head.

“The message—in the hollow oak—” she muttered.

Then she dropped back upon the pillow, and lapsed into unconsciousness.

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