Chapter 17 The Haunted Bridge by Carolyn Keene
Big Mistake
“HERE comes Miss Judson,” Nancy whispered. “If she proves to be the one we want, let’s not tell her the real purpose of our visit.”
The door opened, and the same young woman Nancy had spoken to at Hemlock Hall peered out.
“Miss Judson?” Nancy asked.
“Yes.”
As a beam of light fell directly on the girl’s face, the young woman added, “Oh, I remember you. We met at Hemlock Hall. Do come in.”
Nancy introduced Ned and herself. The three walked into the colonial furnished living room and seated themselves.
“I’m afraid I have rather distressing news to report,” Nancy said. “I’m staying at Deer Mountain Hotel and became acquainted with a man who formerly worked at your estate.”
“Not Joe Haley?” Margaret Judson asked quickly.
“Yes. Mr. Haley was injured in an accident.” Nancy told the woman what had happened. “He mentioned you and pleaded to see you.”
“Oh, I must go to him at once!” Margaret cried. “What hospital is he in?”
“Mr. Haley is at his cabin in the woods,” Nancy explained. “The doctor did not think it necessary to move him.”
“Then I shall go there!” the young woman exclaimed. Suddenly a startled expression came over her face. “No, I can’t go after all,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry,” Nancy said. “Mr. Haley really needs you.”
“I want to go—you don’t understand. I’m just afraid I might meet a certain person there.”
“Mark Wardell?” Nancy questioned.
Margaret Judson buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
“Yes, yes, he’s the one. How can I face him while I am regarded as a thief!”
Nancy crossed the room and put an arm around the young woman. “Please don’t cry,” she said soothingly.
Meanwhile, Bess and George were enjoying the dance at Deer Mountain Hotel with Burt and Dave.
“The dancing will soon be over,” Bess declared anxiously as she gazed about the ballroom. “What can be keeping Nancy and Ned?”
Before anyone could hazard a guess, a boy came through the ballroom, calling George Fayne’s name. The girls motioned to him, hoping that Nancy had sent a note to explain her absence.
“You’re wanted on the telephone, Miss Fayne,” the boy told her.
“I can’t imagine who would call me here,” she murmured. “I don’t believe it’s from Nancy. It might be from home.”
Her guess was right. Mrs. Fayne in River Heights, lonesome for the sound of her daughter’s voice, had telephoned merely to inquire if George was all right.
“Oh, yes, Mother, and we’re having a fantastic time here. I wrote to you today.”
At this point George lost the thread of conversation completely, because in the adjoining booth she heard the excited voice of a man saying:
“So the guy is a forger! He skipped out!”
“Did you hear what I said?” Mrs. Fayne questioned her daughter anxiously. “Your—”
“Oh, yes, that’s nice,” George replied hastily, her mind on the conversation in the other booth.
“Those two B-A-R’s look alike?” she heard the man ask. “And you say the M and the T are similar? ... Yes, I agree that ought to be enough to convict him.”
George’s mind worked with lightning-like speed. B-A-R were the first three letters of Martin Bartescue’s last name and there was an M and a T in his first name. The man was a forger just as Nancy had suspected! The person in the next booth very likely was a hotel official who was being told of the discovery.
“George,” came her mother’s voice in exasperation, “what is the matter with you?”
“I—I can’t talk now,” George stammered. “Something important has come up. I’ll call back a little later.”
She hung up and darted from the phone booth. The adjoining one was now empty. Since Nancy was not available, George hurried to tell Bess, Burt, and Dave what had happened.
“I’ve just made an important discovery,” she revealed. “Bartescue definitely is a forger and apparently the hotel people are on to him!”
“No wonder he skipped out!” Bess exclaimed. “That explains the note he left Nancy. He’s probably miles away by now.”
“But he’s supposed to play his final golf match tomorrow,” said George. “Let’s walk down to the caddy house and find out if his clubs are gone.”
“I’ll bet,” Dave spoke up, “that he won’t show up for the golf match if he’s facing arrest.”
“Let’s find out anyway.”
The two couples walked across the grounds toward the caddy house, clearly outlined in the moonlight. The shack had been locked for the night. Disappointed, they turned toward the hotel.
Suddenly Burt noticed an object gleaming in the grass and stooped to pick it up. “Someone’s keys.”
“One of the golfers, I suppose,” said George. “We can turn the keys in at the office.”
Burt dropped them into his pocket, and the four friends walked on toward the hotel. As they came within view of the garden, George abruptly halted, clutching Burt’s arm.
“Look! Over toward that statue by the fountain! It’s Barty! Bess, let’s you and I sneak up there.”
While the boys waited, the girls crept forward, taking care to keep themselves hidden by bushes and trees. They saw him reach across the basin of the fountain and remove a white object from the hand of the statue.
“It must have been a note from someone,” George said in an undertone. “Bess, we must capture him!”
“We can’t do that alone.”
“No, we must get Burt and Dave!”
Quietly the girls hurried back. The boys were eager to help.
“Tell us what to do.”
“Capture that man,” Bess whispered.
The four quietly approached the fountain. Bartescue was standing there, studying a sheet of paper in his hand. They heard him mutter something, then he crumpled the paper and hurled it angrily into the pool.
“Now’s our chance!” Burt whispered.
Stealthily the boys moved forward. There was bright moonlight. Suddenly Bartescue turned his head. Sensing the boys’ intent, he gave a cry of alarm and fled toward the caddy house.
“Don’t let him get away!” Dave cried as the young people gave chase.
Burt, who was a champion sprinter on the Emerson College track team, soon overtook the man and threw him to the ground. The others closed in so the prisoner could not escape.
“What’s the meaning of this outrage?” Barty demanded, furious. “Let me up.”
“We’ll release you when the police come,” Dave retorted grimly. “You low-down forger!”
“I’ve never forged anything in my life,” Bartescue denied in a rasping tone. Burt and Dave soon discovered that it was not easy to keep the strong and agile man pinned to the ground.
George glanced quickly toward the caddy house. Inspired by a sudden thought, she asked Burt for the keys he had found and ran to the locked door to try them. One fit perfectly and she was able to unlock the door.
Bartescue was thrust inside and the door securely locked again. Burt and Dave said they would stand guard while the girls ran back to the hotel to notify the officials.
“Don’t let him get away!” Dave cried
“Let me out of here!” Barty yelled at the top of his lungs, pounding savagely on the door. “You have no right to do this!”
In the meantime Bess and George had reached the hotel. Greatly excited, they hurried to the manager’s office and burst in upon him.
“Come quickly!” George cried. “We’ve captured your forger!”
“What!” the manager demanded incredulously. “You’ve caught the man?”
“Yes, we have him—in the caddy house! Follow us.”
Bess and George were glowing with pride by the time they came to it. There was not a sound within. Apparently Bartescue had decided that it was useless to try convincing the boys of his innocence. Bess unlocked the door and the manager cautiously peered inside.
“Come out of there, you!” he ordered sharply.
Disheveled, Bartescue haughtily emerged from the building. He glared at Bess and George, then cast an accusing glance at the hotel manager.
“Sir, I demand an explanation for this outrageous treatment. Never before in my life have I been so abused and insulted!”
The manager had not spoken a word. He could only stare.
“Oh, Mr. Bartescue, this is all a mistake,” he said finally.
“A mistake!” George exclaimed indignantly. “This man is a forger. I heard you say so yourself when you were talking in a telephone booth. Or at least I thought it was you.”
“It’s not Martin Bartescue who is wanted for forgery,” the manager said.
“But the letters B-A-R—”
“They stand for Barney. One of our newly employed cooks, a man by the name of Jennings, forged a hundred-dollar check. He used the signature of Barney Milton, who is our caddy master. Mr. Bartescue had nothing whatever to do with the matter.”
George murmured in confusion, “I shouldn’t have acted so impulsively, only I thought Mr. Bartescue was under suspicion even before this. He has written his name so many different ways.”
“I can explain that,” Barty said coldly.
“Then please do,” Bess insisted.
“I shall explain nothing to you,” the man retorted. “When Miss Drew comes I will tell her—in private!”
He turned and walked toward the hotel. The manager hastened after him, continuing to offer apologies for the mistake.
“I seem to have achieved the prize boo-boo,” George said contritely.
“But the fact remains,” Bess agreed soberly, “that Bartescue still has a lot to explain.”
“We must find Nancy immediately,” George declared urgently. “Barty may slip away, and then we’ll never learn the reason for his strange actions.”