Chapter 18 The Clue in the Old Stagecoach by Carolyn Keene
Whirring Cameras
Nancy’s friends crowded into Mrs. Strook’s bedroom. “Oh!” Bess exclaimed. “Has she been hurt?”
“I think not,” Nancy replied.
Before she untied the knots with which Mrs. Strook had been firmly bound and gagged, she said to Ned and the other boys, “Aren’t these nautical knots?”
“They sure are,” Ned answered emphatically. “Some sailor or ex-sailor tied Mrs. Strook up with clove hitches.”
He helped Nancy release the elderly woman from her bonds. Gently Nancy advised Mrs. Strook not to sit up. “Just take it easy and tell us what you can,” she said.
“I’ll get you some hot tea,” Bess offered, and hurried to the kitchen.
Nancy introduced Ned, Burt, and Dave. The stricken woman nodded to them but seemed too shocked to reply. But after she had sipped the tea which Bess brought, Mrs. Strook insisted upon getting up and sitting in a chair. Then she began her story.
“It was awful—just awful,” she said. “Two men came to the door and the moment I opened it, they rushed in. One of them said ‘We’re not goin’ to fool around. We want a quick answer. What was Langstreet’s secret?’ ”
“How in the world did they find that out?” George interposed.
“I have no idea,” the elderly woman answered. “When I told them I didn’t know, they said they’d find out themselves. That’s when they tied me up and gagged me so I couldn’t yell. They searched this house thoroughly, I’m sure, from the racket I heard. Oh, I hate to think of going outside this room and looking!”
“Please don’t do it,” said Nancy. “We’d offer to clean things up for you, but the police never want anything disturbed. I must call them. But first, tell me what the men looked like.”
Mrs. Strook said she did not know. Both wore masks and hats pulled down so far over their foreheads that she could not tell the color of their hair.
“By any chance, did one have a scar on his wrist?” Nancy asked.
“I don’t know that, either. Both men wore long gloves.”
“But we do have one possible clue,” Nancy said. “The nautical knots. I think I can give the police a good tip as to who the thugs might have been.”
Mrs. Strook became very pale again, and Nancy insisted upon her lying on the bed. The boys left the room and went to look around for any other clues to the intruders.
“Perhaps you should go to the hospital, Mrs. Strook,” Bess spoke up. “At least until the mess here is straightened out.”
The woman shook her head. “I don’t feel bad enough to go to the hospital,” she insisted. “A little rest will fix me up, I’m sure. Anyway, I want to be here to answer any questions the police may have.”
Nancy had felt Bess’s suggestion a good one but could not go against the woman’s wishes. Now she said, “Perhaps you have some friend or neighbor who will be able to stay with you for a few days?”
Mrs. Strook said she would like this. She gave Nancy a list of names to call. The third one on it, a Mrs. Grover, said she would be happy to help.
Nancy now phoned police headquarters and told her story to Sergeant Hurley. He promised to send a man to Mrs. Strook’s as soon as possible. At present most of the force was investigating the explosion.
It was fully an hour before two officers arrived. They were the sergeant himself and Detective Takman.
Mrs. Strook repeated her story, then Nancy told of her suspicion as to who the two thugs might have been.
“This is amazing,” Sergeant Hurley remarked. “Those hijackers have eluded the police so far.” The officer smiled at Nancy. “You wouldn’t have any idea where they are right now, would you, Miss Drew?”
“I wish I did,” she answered. “I’d like to ask them a few questions myself!”
During most of this conversation, only Nancy and the officers had been in the room with Mrs. Strook. Bess and George had joined the boys outdoors. They found that Ned had traced the intruders’ footprints around the house and through a hedge to the next property. Burt had gone into the kitchen for some string and had “roped” off the footprints.
“Aren’t you boys clever!” Bess praised them. “Any more clues?”
“Yes,” Dave spoke up. “I’ll show you one.”
At that moment Nancy came from the house with the police officers. When the roped-off area was pointed out to them, Sergeant Hurley said, “Are all of you detectives?”
“The only real detective among us is Nancy Drew, but we all go to her training school,” Burt Eddleton spoke up with a grin.
“Well, I can see that she teaches good courses,” the officer said. “Did you find out anything else, young man?”
Dave led them to a spot near the hedge. A man’s dark-brown glove lay on the ground. “Mrs. Strook said the thugs wore gloves. Perhaps this is one of them.”
From his pocket Detective Takman took a paper bag and a pair of tweezers. Carefully he lifted the glove up and dropped it inside the bag. “We’ll have it tested for fingerprints at headquarters,” he said.
Nancy heard the telephone ring and went to answer it. To her amazement the call was for her. It was from Mrs. Pauling, who asked if Nancy and her friends could come over to Bridgeford right away.
“You’re needed here,” she said. “It’s a good thing you told John O’Brien where you were going and I could catch you.”
“What’s up?” Nancy asked.
“They’re getting ready for a historical pageant to be held in connection with the formal opening soon,” Mrs. Pauling told her. “I’m the chairman. I’ve just learned that the principals have been held up some place and can’t get here in time for special pictures to be taken for a big magazine. The cameramen are waiting. How about you and your friends coming over and posing?”
“Why, certainly,” said Nancy. “We’ll be there as soon as possible.”
She went to check with Mrs. Strook to be sure the elderly woman was all right. Mrs. Grover had arrived and said she would take good care of her friend.
When Nancy made her announcement to Bess, George, and the boys, they showed mingled feelings. Bess thought how romantic it would be. George objected to wearing “a flubby-dubby costume.” The boys declared they would feel very silly. But all said that so long as Nancy had promised to do it, they would go.
Upon reaching Bridgeford, Nancy introduced the boys, then Mrs. Pauling took the group into a small white house where a governor of the state had once lived. The young people were given rooms in which to dress. As the six reappeared in their costumes, a few minutes later, all burst out laughing.
“I never knew I had such skinny legs until I put on these tight-fitting trousers,” said Burt.
“And I should have curls hanging down under this bonnet,” George remarked. “I must look like a lady convict of 1850 with my hair so short.”
The merriment continued as the group went outside and walked over to the old stagecoach and horses, where two cameramen waited with John O’Brien. Introductions were made by Mrs. Pauling.
Ned, costumed as the driver, opened the door of the stagecoach for the girls to climb in. Nancy and Bess eagerly stepped up. Burt refused to follow and declared he was going to ride on top.
“I think I’ll try that too,” said George.
The others roared with laughter as the tom-boyish girl tried to negotiate the climb in her long skirt. Finally, with the boys’ help, she made it. Dave, who was to be messenger, pulled himself up to the front seat beside Ned.
“All ready?” the photographer called out.
“Let ’er roll!” Ned replied.
Cameras clicked for several pictures. Then the photographer called out, “Now I want to take some movies. O’Brien will pull the horses and stagecoach. Ned, act as if you were really driving, will you?”
The tow chain was attached and John O’Brien took his place at the wheel of the truck. A moment later the outfit began to move, but unfortunately the truck had started with a jerk. The stagecoach gave a sudden lurch, jostling George and Burt.
George lost her balance and toppled over the side!
Burt made a dive for her. He managed to seize George in time to keep her from falling to the ground. George, for her part, made a wild grab for the railing at the top of the coach and helped pull herself up.
The commotion had reached John O’Brien’s ear and he had stopped short. George, shamefaced and a little disheveled, apologized. Suddenly she realized that the movie camera was still whirring. Turning to the photographer, she cried out:
“You didn’t take my picture!”
“Of course. It looked very realistic,” he replied, grinning.
“Well, don’t you dare show it to anybody!” George snapped, but she knew from the big tantalizing smile he gave her that he would not accede to her request.
The balance of the photographing took place without incident. Mrs. Pauling thanked Nancy and her friends for all their trouble, then the young people said good-by and headed for Camp Merriweather.
The evening was spent catching up on home news, but by ten o’clock all declared they were weary from their day’s experiences and said good night.
When Nancy reached her room, she sat down in a chair and gazed out the window, lost in thought. Her father had once told her that reviewing the various details of a case just before going to bed might bring a ready answer in the morning. Nancy often found herself instinctively doing this.
Suddenly she jumped up and began to walk around the room as an idea came to her. She snapped her fingers and smiled.
“I wonder if I could possibly be right!” she thought excitedly.