Chapter 22 The Whispering Statue by Carolyn Keene
CAPTURED
“What do you want here?” Joe Mitza demanded harshly, lifting the candlestick from the table and holding it so that the beam of light fell full upon Nancy’s face.
“I think you recognize me,” she answered calmly.
Mitza did remember her, and he recalled too that already she had caused him considerable trouble.
“No,” he replied shortly, “I’ve never seen you before. Furthermore, you have no business to be here unless you’re looking for trouble.”
“You’re the girl who returned my suitcase,” Miss Morse stated, but there was no feeling of gratitude in her voice.
“Yes, I’ve been trying to see you for many days, Miss Morse.”
“I can’t talk with you now,” the old woman interrupted impatiently. “You must go away.”
“It happens that I found Mr. Mitza’s lost money,” Nancy said quietly. She removed the roll of bills from her pocket.
Mitza reached out to snatch his property, but the girl sidestepped him.
“I want Miss Morse to see this money,” she said evenly. “Look at this hundred-dollar bill closely under the light. You will be able to tell at a glance that it is counterfeit.”
“Are you crazy?” Mitza demanded savagely, trying again to place himself between the girl and Miss Morse. “If the money is mine, it is genuine. How dare you hint that I would stoop to such trickery?”
Miss Morse had examined one of the bills. From her expression Nancy was quite certain she was convinced of its fraudulent character.
“This man meant to cheat you out of five thousand dollars,” the girl explained. “He intended to take your money while he put up this worthless roll of bills. I know this to be true for I heard him tell his scheme to a pal.”
“It’s not true!” Joe Mitza shouted furiously.
Miss Morse had spoken no word. For a long time she stared down at the bill in her hand. Unquestionably the revelation had stunned her. Nancy expected to receive at least a measure of gratitude, and so was dumbfounded when the old woman without the slightest warning whirled about to face her.
“I don’t believe a word of your brazen lies,” she snapped. “You made up every bit of the story.”
“Sure she did,” Mitza sang out triumphantly.
“But I can prove—” Nancy began.
The woman would not allow her to finish. “This is my affair and you’re not to interfere,” she said harshly. “I told you on the train that I could look after myself and I meant it. Now get out of here and don’t come back!”
Nancy was so stunned that for a moment she could think of nothing to say. And after all, what was there to reply? She had warned Miss Morse, had offered her proof of Joe Mitza’s treachery, and the woman had chosen to disbelieve the story.
“No, she really did understand that Mitza meant to trick her,” Nancy thought. “I’m certain of it. But she has some reason why she intends to go through with the deal anyway.”
“Hurry up and get out of here,” the woman ordered, breaking rudely in upon the girl’s thoughts. “You had no business to trespass in the first place.”
“Had you?” the girl countered, but Miss Morse made no answer.
All the fervor seemed to have left the old woman, and she sat down wearily in one of the dusty chairs. The flickering candlelight revealed that her face was distorted with various emotions.
Suddenly, without knowing why, Nancy felt sorry for the aged woman. She appeared very miserable and unhappy, yet was determined to accept no help in her affairs.
“Very well, Miss Morse, I’ll go,” Nancy said quietly. “I’m sorry to have caused you so much trouble for I only wished to be of help.”
She waited a moment, half expecting that the woman would reply, but Miss Morse averted her glance and remained silent.
Nancy walked slowly from the room. When she reached the hall she heard the sound of a shrill whistle which came from somewhere on the grounds.
“A police signal!” the girl thought. “The house is surrounded!”
Before she could make a single movement, Joe Mitza blew out the candle, plunging the living room into darkness.
Nancy felt herself grasped rudely from behind. Miss Morse’s bony hand was clapped over her mouth. As she struggled to free herself she was amazed to discover that the woman was strong as a man.
The girl, taken unaware, was no match for Miss Morse, yet she might have broken away had not Mitza come to the assistance of the woman. The pair worked silently, but with a skill as amazing as it was disconcerting.
Nancy found herself bound and gagged in the twinkling of an eye. She was shoved into a closet and the door slammed shut.
“Hide,” Miss Morse ordered her companion tersely. “They’re coming into the house to look for us.”
Nancy could not understand why the old woman should be afraid of the police, for until this moment she had never suspected that Miss Morse might be a fugitive from justice.
“I should have been warned when I found that suitcase with the wig in it,” she thought belatedly. “I’ve walked into a trap.”
Nancy heard Miss Morse and Mitza scurrying about the room in their search for a safe hiding place. Then the mansion became quiet, but only for a minute. Suddenly there came a loud pounding on the side door.
“Open up!” a voice commanded.
The order was repeated, and finally Nancy heard the police officers come tramping through the hallway. A moment more, and she knew they must have reached the living room. She struggled and twisted in an effort to make some sound which would draw attention to her plight.
“I guess it was only a false alarm,” she heard one of the local officers say gruffly. “That old man didn’t know what he was talking about when he said a woman was trying to steal things from the homestead. No one has been in this place for years.”
It occurred to Nancy that probably the men had been sent to the Conger estate by Mr. Albin, who might have recovered from his heart attack sufficiently to talk to the officials by telephone. Again she tried to attract attention, but the slight sounds she was able to make were nullified by the howling of the wind, the roar of the sea, and the loud talk of the investigators.
“We’ll take a look upstairs just as a matter of routine,” one of the men said. “But the place is deserted.”
Nancy heard the officers tramping over the floor above her, then she followed their progress as they returned downstairs.
“Let’s go, fellows,” one of the men urged. “A bad storm is brewing and we want to get back to town before it breaks.”
“Listen to this old house creak and groan,” another muttered uneasily. “It’s fairly straining to fall into the sea.”
Nancy listened with sinking heart to the sound of receding footsteps. A door slammed. Then the place became quiet once more.
Minutes elapsed, then the girl heard a slight movement in the room. She sensed that Miss Morse was emerging from her hiding place. Apparently she was joined immediately by Joe Mitza, for the man said with an attempt at nonchalance:
“Well, they’ve gone. Not that I was afraid to be found here, but it’s always just as well not to invite an investigation. Police like to dig up false facts and put blame upon anyone they can.”
“I understand—perfectly,” Miss Morse replied, and there was bitterness in her voice.
The pair made no reference in their conversation to Nancy, and the girl began to wonder if they had forgotten about her. The closet was dusty and close. She felt half suffocated.
“I believe they mean to leave me here,” she thought in terror. “Unless I can get out by my own efforts, my only hope of rescue lies with George and Bess.”
Nancy knew only too well that her chums would not venture near the house until a considerable length of time had elapsed. She must depend upon her own ingenuity if she were to escape.
“The old mansion may wash into the sea at any moment, too,” she told herself fearfully.
Spurred by that unpleasant prospect, Nancy began to work frantically at her bonds.