Chapter 12 The Haunted Bridge by Carolyn Keene
Stranded!
THE telephone conversation had served Nancy’s purpose—it convinced her that Margaret Judson and Martin Bartescue could be working together in some nefarious business.
“I must follow Barty,” she said to herself, “and find out where he goes.”
Nancy returned to the hotel and explained her plan to Bess and George. “I’ll borrow Ned’s car and trail Barty when he leaves for his appoint ment with Margaret Judson.”
Ned had given Nancy his key in case she wanted to use his car. Fortunately it was parked near the hotel exit and was ready to be driven out at a moment’s notice.
“How about coming along?” Nancy asked her friends.
“You couldn’t leave us home,” George replied.
The girls went to dinner. They were pleased that Bartescue was in the dining room so they could keep an eye on him. Before Nancy, Bess, and George were half through dinner, Barty abruptly rose and left.
“No dessert tonight,” Nancy said hurriedly to the waiter. “We must leave now.”
The three girls reached the lobby in time to see Barty depart by the front door.
“He intends to keep an appointment, all right,” Nancy declared in satisfaction. “We must move fast or he’ll be out of sight!”
They ran to Ned’s parked car and Nancy started it quickly. Barty’s automobile had vanished down the road, but Nancy drove rapidly and soon came within view of it.
“He seems to be heading for the village,” she remarked.
Apparently unaware that he was being followed, Bartescue drove into town and parked across the street from a movie theater. Nancy stopped nearly a half block away and watched him cross the street and enter the building.
“Do you suppose he expects to meet Miss Judson inside the theater?” Bess asked in disappointment.
“Wait here,” Nancy said, sliding from behind the steering wheel.
She bought a ticket to the theater and went inside. Although the usher could not recall the man Nancy described, the young detective was sure that Bartescue had entered the theater. In the darkened area she was unable to distinguish faces.
Thinking that possibly Barty had gone to the lounge to keep his appointment, she went there. The room was empty.
Perplexed, Nancy returned to the lobby, and after standing there for several minutes finally decided to join her friends again. She left the theater and crossed the street.
Suddenly she halted, staring blankly at the place where she had parked Ned’s car. Bess, George, and the automobile had vanished!
Nancy was dismayed for an instant. During her absence had harm come to her friends? After a little sober reflection, Nancy convinced herself that George and Bess had driven off somewhere deliberately.
“Barty very likely came out of the theater shortly after I went inside,” she reasoned. “The girls may have decided to follow him.”
Nancy was temporarily stranded in the village. A bus would not return to Deer Mountain Hotel for nearly an hour.
Half an hour elapsed, and still there was no sign of the missing car. Nancy glanced anxiously at her watch.
“George and Bess may not return for hours,” she said to herself. “Fortunately the hotel bus will be coming soon.”
As she made her way toward the bus stop Nancy heard the screech of brakes. Then a car came to a sudden halt by the curb.
“Nancy!” called a voice.
She whirled to see Ned Nickerson, who had driven up in his car. He sprang out to open the door for her.
“Bess and George sent me after you,” he explained. “They’re back at the hotel.”
“At the hotel?”
“They didn’t mean to run off, but right after you left, Bartescue came out of the theater by a side door, so they followed him.”
“Where did he go?” Nancy inquired.
“Right back to the hotel. I happened to be there when the girls arrived. Since I wanted to talk to you, they asked me to come for you.”
“I’m afraid,” Nancy said, “that he suspected he was being followed.”
“No doubt.”
“Ned, tell me about the man at the cabin.”
“He seems about the same, Nancy, but he did talk a good deal. As you thought, his name is Joe Haley. His most startling words were these:
“‘Miss Margaret, I’m afraid the box was stolen —don’t cry—why don’t you marry Mark?’ ”
“Are you sure the name was Mark?” Nancy asked quickly. “Could it have been Martin?”
“It might have been. I admit I didn’t hear what he said very clearly.”
“Ned, I forgot to ask you about Barty. Since he claims to be acquainted with so many well-known society people, he should be in the Social Register. Did you look to see if his name is listed?”
“I did. It wasn’t there.”
“Just as I suspected.”
On the way to the hotel Nancy told Ned as much as she felt she should about the case which had brought her father to Deer Mountain HoteL Other facts in her possession were confidential. Without Mr. Drew’s permission, she could not divulge them.
When they reached the hotel, Nancy learned from the desk clerk that her father had returned. She said good night to Ned and hastened to Mr. Drew’s room.
“Any luck on your lead, Dad?” she asked eagerly.
“No,” he said. “It was a worthless tip as usual.” He sighed. “To tell the truth, I think we’ve been on the wrong track.”
“How do you mean?”
“I doubt that Margaret Judson had anything to do with the jewel smuggling. There’s no real evidence to support our theory that the brass chest belongs to her.”
“I don’t think she’s guilty either,” said Nancy. “She seems too nice. Cheer up, Dad,” she added. “We’ll get to the bottom of the mystery.”
“That’s my girll” said Mr. Drew. “You’ll win out, I know.”
Nancy smiled. “Speaking of winning, tomorrow I face a crucial test in golf. I’d better get to bed.”
“How does your hand feel?” her father asked anxiously. “Did you see Dr. Aikerman?”
“Yes, he let me take off the bandage, but said I still must be very careful.”
“It’s a shame you have to play with an injury,” Mr. Drew said sympathetically. “I’m banking on you to win, anyway!”
“Thanks, Dad.” Nancy smiled as she kissed him and went off.
She dropped in on Bess and George for a moment. George was writing letters, while Bess, propped up with pillows, had been reading in bed.
“Is your book a good one?” Nancy inquired.
Bess made a face. “The title sounded great, but it turned out to be about medieval history. It’s pretty heavy reading. Here, take a look!”
She tossed the book across the room, expecting that her friend would catch it. Nancy was glancing in another direction and did not see the object flying toward her. In seconds the heavy volume had struck her injured hand.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, trying to smother a cry of pain.
Bess leaped from bed and ran to Nancy’s side.
“Oh, your poor hand! I thought you were watching when I tossed the book. I’ll never forgive myself.”
“The hand feels better already,” Nancy assured her friend. “Please don’t worry.”
“But your match tomorrow—”
“The pain will go away before then, I’m sure.”
Somewhat reassured, Bess returned to bed. She had no idea that Nancy actually was suffering intense pain.
As Nancy prepared for bed, she prayed for a night of restful sleep before the eventful day to come. But the ache in her hand grew steadily worse. She nervously paced the floor.
Finally she dialed Dr. Aikerman’s room and told him what had happened.
“Come to my office in ten minutes,” the physician replied.
Nancy dressed and went there. Dr. Aikerman was waiting for her.
“What have you been doing to this hand?” he asked sternly. “I hope you’re not planning to play in the golf tournament tomorrow.”
“Oh, doctor! Please don’t say I shouldn’t.”
“That is a matter for you to decide, young lady. Your injury will not prove permanent, but I can see that you must be in excruciating pain at times.”
“I am,” Nancy admitted ruefully. “I was hoping you could relieve it.”
“There is very little I can do except put on another bandage. It will take time for the hand to heal.”
“The pain is so acute I haven’t been able to sleep.”
“I can give you something for that,” the doctor said. “Perhaps by morning the pain will have lessened considerably.”
Nancy thanked the doctor, and when she was back in her room took the medicine as directed. Soon she fell asleep and did not awaken until the sun streamed in through the window the following morning. As she opened her eyes Nancy heard someone rapping on the door connecting her room with that of Bess and George.
“May we come in?” Bess called.
“Yes,” Nancy called back.
George opened the door and commented in surprise, “Not dressed yet?” Then, as she noticed how tired and wan her friend appeared, she added quickly, “Nancy, you’ve had a bad night!”
“I slept fairly well after the doctor gave me some medicine and bound my hand again.”
“The doctor!” Bess exclaimed in dismay.
“Now don’t start worrying,” Nancy said. “My hand hurts only a little this morning, and I intend to play in the golf tournament.”
She refused to say anything more about her injury, and started to dress. George and Bess tried in every way to assist her so she would not need to use her sore hand.
“You’ll just have enough time to eat breakfast and reach the first tee,” George said, glancing at her watch. “It’s rather late.”
The girls hastened to the dining room. They had just seated themselves when Nancy glimpsed Chris Sutter coming timidly toward her.
“Excuse me for bothering you, Miss Drew, but I want to talk to you about Miss Judson. My mother is here in the lobby and she has something to tell you.”
Nancy arose quickly.
“Don’t wait breakfast for me,” she told Bess and George. “I’ll go with Chris. This may be important!”