Chapter 4 The Invisible Intruder by Carolyn Keene
The Octopus
“Hi!” a voice called from behind Nancy and her friends. “Where are you folks heading?”
The speaker was Bab Hackett. She and the other ghost hunters said they had come downtown to do a little shopping. “How about you?”
“We’ve picked up a clue to that ghost last night,” Nancy said, and told of their plan to call on the Prizers.
“My goodness, Nancy,” said Bill, laughing, “you really mean business when you’re on a case. Pretty soon you’ll have all these mysteries solved without ever giving us an opportunity to track a ghost.”
Nancy smiled. “Not a chance. But how about coming along with us right now and helping to interview the suspects?”
There was a chorus of yeses. The two cars which had brought the married couples to town followed Nancy’s convertible down the street and onto the lake road.
It was difficult to find the Prizer cottage which stood in a wooded area some distance from both the road and the waterfront. The callers after a long search finally located it.
“This place certainly is secluded,” Bab remarked.
There was no one around, but an elderly man answered Nancy’s knock.
“Is this the Prizer cottage?” she asked.
He nodded and invited the young people inside. They entered and sat down, some on the floor. Nancy’s eyes scanned the living room which was plainly but tastefully decorated. On a mantel-shelf lay a beautiful cradle-shaped shell.
“I must ask him about it later,” Nancy thought. Aloud she said, “Mr. and Mrs. Prizer aren’t at home? Will they be back soon?”
“Oh, they only come once in a while. They rented this place for me,” the elderly man answered. “I’m Mr. Prizer’s father.”
“I see,” Nancy remarked. “The place is so lovely I should think they’d want to be here all summer. It would be especially nice for their children.”
“Children!” Mr. Prizer exclaimed. He laughed softly. “They have no children.”
Ned spoke up and asked in what business the son was engaged.
“He dabbles in real estate,” was the answer. “Wilbur and Beatrice keep mighty busy traveling around in connection with their land interests.”
Instantly Nancy recalled the loss of patronage at Pine Grove Camp, the possibility of its being sold, and also of the younger Prizer’s interest in the camp. She dared not ask more questions, however, for fear of arousing the suspicions of elderly Mr. Prizer.
Bab inquired if he minded staying alone. “Oh no,” he said. “I’ve got my books—lots of them, and my shells.”
“That’s a beauty on the mantel,” Bab remarked. “May I look at it closely?”
Mr. Prizer got up and went to get the shell. He asked, “Do you know what kind of creature made this?”
Bab smiled. “An octopus,” she answered.
“Right,” said Mr. Prizer. “Are you a shell collector?”
“Yes I am, and I think the story about this Argonaut Argo is one of the most interesting of all the shells. Please tell the others about it.”
“Glad to,” the elderly man said. “At certain times the female octopus deposits about forty festoons of eggs in a cradle shell like this. The eggs are nearly transparent. Next, she waves her arms over the clusters so that the salt water circulates among the eggs.
“It takes about two months for the little creatures to hatch. During that time the mother octopus watches over the eggs and doesn’t eat one mouthful of food.”
“Wow!” Burt exclaimed. “I’m glad I’m not a mother octopus!”
This remark sent the others into gales of laughter.
“When the eggs are hatched, what form are the babies in?” Nancy asked.
Mr. Prizer replied, “They’re miniature octopi. But they grow very fast. When adults, they often have a spread of ten feet and weigh about ten pounds.”
He continued, “The octopus is a very intelligent creature. As you probably know, it has eight legs and can swim or walk. The only hard part of its body is the beak, which the creature uses to open clams, oysters, and crabs. It eats every speck of meat without breaking their shells.”
“How does he manage that?” George asked.
“The octopus merely sucks up his food. By the way, an octopus is pretty lucky—it has three hearts.”
“O-oh,” said Bess. “What does it do with them all?”
Mr. Prizer chuckled. “I suppose they provide a better circulatory system to get the blood to all the eight legs.”
As the man paused, Bab remarked that an octopus exudes an inky smoke screen when it is confronted by an enemy. “The moray eel is the natural enemy of the octopus.”
Bab asked Mr. Prizer if she might see the rest of his collection of shells.
“It’s not unpacked yet. But I’ve got some beauties.”
The elderly man did not sit down again and the visitors took this as an indication that the interview was at an end. They all thanked him for his interesting talk, but Nancy and Ned noticed that he did not invite them to return. They mentioned this to the others as the group trudged up the hill to the road.
“That’s a bit strange,” Bab remarked. “Most shell collectors are eager to show off their specimens and talk about them.”
When the ghost hunters reached Pine Camp Lodge, Bess suggested, “Let’s go to the beach and have fun.”
“And give up the ghost hunting?” George asked.
“Do we have to work every minute?” her cousin countered.
George turned to Rita Rodriguez. “Have you any hunches? You have ESP, I hear.”
Rita smiled. “Would you like me to give some predictions about this trip?”
Bess forgot all about the plan to go swimming. “Please do,” she said.
The ghost hunters sat down and remained quiet. Rita bowed her head and remained motionless for several minutes. Then she raised her eyes.
“I’m afraid what I see in my mind’s eye is not good news. Perhaps I should not worry you with it.”
George said at once, “We’ve gone this far. We may as well hear the worst. Please go ahead and tell us.”
Rita said solemnly, “In the very near future I see an accident in a boat to a young couple. I cannot make out who they are but the message is that it may ruin our trip.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Bab. “Maybe all of us should stay out of boats.”
Nancy did not comment, feeling that the premonition should be considered as a warning, not a hindrance. No one else expressed an opinion. Ned broke the uneasy silence by suggesting that they all hurry to their cabins and change to swimsuits.
When they reached the shore a little later, Ned said to Nancy, “Did Rita’s warning scare you? Are you game to go out in a canoe with me?”
Nancy laughed. “You know I’m not scared. Let’s go!”
Ned picked a good-looking red aluminum craft. He chose paddles and said he would sit at the stern.
“You can just take it easy if you like,” he told Nancy, but she said she would like to paddle from the forward position.
It was a beautiful day and the sun was pleasantly warm.
They had gone about a quarter of a mile when Nancy exclaimed, “Ned! The self-paddling canoe is just ahead of us!”
He stared in the direction of the mystery craft. It was indeed the same canoe!
He and Nancy began to paddle at breakneck speed after it. “We’re getting closer!” he cried gleefully.
The canoe veered toward a cove. They sped along after it, wondering if this time they would find the place where the mystery craft was hidden.
Suddenly Nancy and Ned found it almost impossible to paddle. It seemed as if some terrific pressure were pulling them backward.
“What’s the matter with this canoe?” Nancy asked.
“I don’t know,” Ned replied. “We’re paddling like mad, but the canoe is almost standing still.”
He and Nancy dug in deeper but their efforts were of no avail. The two looked at each other in dismay. What unknown source was hindering their progress?
Before either could express the thought aloud, the canoe suddenly overturned. Taken unaware, they plunged deep into the lake.
Nancy immediately began to claw the water and made her way to the surface quickly. She looked around for Ned but he was not in sight. After several seconds had gone by and he did not rise to the surface, she became alarmed. Could the canoe have hit Ned and knocked him out?
Nancy dived and searched under water. She rose again. This time she spotted her friend. The sight horrified her.
Ned, apparently unconscious, was being towed ashore by giant arms that looked like those of a great octopus!