Chapter 14 The Message in the Hollow Oak by Carolyn Keene
The Cellar Ghost
Bess and George tried to dissuade Nancy from descending into the dark basement.
“You don’t know what might be down there,” Bess whispered tensely. “So why risk your life!”
“I’ll be all right,” Nancy maintained. “If anything should happen, just step to the door and call Pete.”
“Let’s get him now,” George urged.
“No, we need him out there to keep guard. I’m going to investigate this place myself.”
Courageously, Nancy lifted the trap-door and peered down into the dark cellar. Despite her air of confidence, she did not enjoy the task she had assigned to herself.
“If I only had a light——”
She murmured the phrase as she slowly descended into the dark void. Bess and George, waiting fearfully at the top of the stairs, heard the words blur off. Their chum had vanished!
Suddenly there came a slight commotion from below. Bess and George huddled against the wall, fearing the worst. Before they had recovered from their fear, Nancy emerged, clutching a gray cat. Her young chums were so relieved when they saw what the trouble had been that they burst into laughter.
“Behold the ghost!” Nancy smiled.
“A cat!” George exclaimed contemptuously. She bent down to stroke the animal. “Nice Tabby, nice Tabby. Tell me, how did you learn to make such unearthly sounds?”
Nancy closed the trap-door. The animal seemed to be entirely satisfied with the new quarters. Ignoring the girls, the little creature went over to a warm corner, curled up, and was soon dozing.
“It’s hard to believe that one small cat could cause so much excitement,” Nancy smiled. “I’m glad we didn’t call Pete, for he would have laughed at us.”
Again the girls settled themselves to await the return of Pierre Chap. The clock on the mantel struck five and simultaneously with the last note, a loud moan issued from the cellar. Nancy and her chums jumped up from their chairs.
“That wasn’t the cat,” George whispered.
Bess gripped Nancy’s arm, trembling with fright.
“I’ll find out what it is,” the Drew girl said determinedly.
Before she could move there was a loud crash that seemed to come from under their very feet.
“Oh! Oh!” Bess wailed, and toppled over in a faint.
Nancy rushed to the door.
“Pete! Pete!” she called.
There was no response to her cry. The guide had vanished. She darted back into the house and helped George carry Bess out into the open air. There the girl quickly revived, although her face remained pale.
“Let’s take the canoe and get away from here as soon as possible,” she pleaded.
“We can’t leave without Pete,” Nancy told her.
The guide’s strange disappearance troubled and annoyed her. Surely the man had not abandoned them deliberately!
Nancy glanced toward the horizon. The sun was still fairly high, but the woods were dark and gloomy. The thought of remaining at the Chap cabin after dark with no older person present caused even her courageous heart to quail.
For an instant she was tempted to heed Bess’s suggestion, but put the thought from her mind. Even if they should start for Wellington Lake without delay, they could not hope to reach that place before dark. Without Pete to guide them they would be hopelessly lost.
Nancy stared grimly at the homestead. It challenged her. George read the thought which ran through her friend’s mind.
“Nancy Drew, don’t you dare to think of going back into that dreadful place!”
“Listen!” Bess commanded.
The groaning had started again!
Resolutely Nancy walked into the house. With the greatest of reluctance George and Bess followed her, pleading with her not to attempt anything reckless.
“Wait for me at the head of the stairs,” Nancy directed. “I’m going to make a thorough investigation.”
Cautiously she descended the steps, one at a time. It was so dark she could scarcely see a foot ahead of her. She groped her way along the wall, listening intently all the while.
Suddenly she stepped on something long and snake-like. There was a startled meow as the girl stumbled over the object that lay in her path. She then pitched headlong upon the damp floor.
“Nancy! Nancy!” Bess screamed in terror from above.
“I’m all right,” their chum called, getting to her feet a trifle shakily. “I only stumbled over another cat.”
“Do be careful,” George warned her friend anxiously.
Nancy scarcely heard what they said, for she was listening intently to what she thought was the sound of soft breathing. Next there came an almost inaudible moan, which seemed to issue from the direction of the fruit closet.
Gathering her courage, the girl tried the door, but it would not open. Groping about in the musty darkness, she located the key in the lock and turned it. Opening the door a crack, she peered inside. At first she saw nothing; then gradually she could make out the figure of a man lying on the floor.
“Girls!” she shouted excitedly. “Come here! I think poor Mr. Chap has been hurt!”
Bess and George dashed down the stairs to help her. They stared aghast as they beheld the bearded man lying trussed and gagged on the cold, hard floor.
“Get a knife to cut his bonds,” Nancy urged.
George ran back to the kitchen for the article, while Nancy and Bess removed the gag from the man’s mouth.
“We’ll soon have you free,” they encouraged the fellow.
George came with the knife, and the thongs were quickly severed.
“Can you walk?” Nancy questioned him anxiously, as they helped the fellow to his feet.
“I think so,” he responded with an effort.
Supporting him on either side, the girls assisted him up the stairs and into the kitchen. As the circulation improved in his numb limbs, he was able to walk more freely.
“Water,” he pleaded.
Bess ran to get it. After the man had drunk deeply he smiled gratefully at the girls.
“I feel better now,” he said, relieved.
Nancy studied his face intently.
“You can’t be Pierre Chap,” she declared “for you are far too young.”
“I live some distance from here,” the bearded prospector told her. “Two men stopped me on the trail and asked me the way to this place. I grew suspicious, and decided to come with them. They overpowered me and threw me into the cellar. If it hadn’t been for your timely arrival I might have lain there and died.”
“It must have been Tom Stripe and Raymond Niles who did it,” Nancy surmised. “Can you describe your assailants?”
The prospector gave an accurate description of the two men.
“They ought to be arrested for such an outrage!” George cried indignantly. “When we return to Lake Wellington we’ll report the matter to the police.”
The prospector looked troubled.
“I’d rather you wouldn’t,” he said. “I couldn’t appear in court against them. I’d prefer to even the score myself.”
During the conversation Nancy had remained strangely quiet, though her chums noted that she stared at the stranger in a most peculiar manner. In truth, the Drew girl was bewildered. From the first the man had reminded her of someone, and vainly did she rack her memory. Where had she seen him before?
Suddenly the answer came to her. Save for the beard, the stranger put her in mind of a photograph she had in her possession. Trying not to show her excitement, she turned to the prospector and asked him eagerly: “Can it be possible that you are Norman Ranny?”