Chapter 16 The Invisible Intruder by Carolyn Keene
Aim! Fire!
“How dreadful!” Bess exclaimed. “Did the burglar take much?”
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Hodge replied. “I got here only a few minutes ago.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Nancy spoke up. “Weren’t any of our friends at home?”
“No, everyone was out. Oh dear! What shall I do now?”
Nancy told her that the police should be notified immediately. “Would you like me to make the call?”
After reporting the burglary, Nancy and her friends went upstairs to see if the thief had tampered with their luggage. Clothes and cosmetics were strewn about the floor. A quick check indicated that nothing had been taken.
“He must’ve been looking for something special,” George remarked. “Nancy, what do you think it was?”
Nancy shrugged. “Possibly the shell. Prizer may have forced Steve to tell him that we’d found it. I had it well hidden under the lining of my suitcase.”
Bess looked skeptical. “But if he thought we had it, why did he ransack Mrs. Hodge’s possessions?”
“I wish I knew the answer,” said Nancy. “Let’s go downstairs and see if we can help Mrs. Hodge. She’s had so much trouble it doesn’t seem fair for any more to be heaped on her.”
They found the woman in the living room. She looked up, a puzzled expression on her face.
“Nothing much was taken,” she said. “Just a little money and jewelry. I don’t understand it.”
The boys had come into the room and Ned suggested that the burglar was looking for some particular thing of value to him.
“But what could it be?” Mrs. Hodge asked.
“Do you own anything rare and worth a lot of money?” Burt queried.
Mrs. Hodge shook her head. “After my husband’s death, I sold everything of value.”
Nancy gazed thoughtfully around the room. She noticed an old file box on the floor in a corner. It had been opened and the papers rifled.
“Was there anything valuable in there?” Nancy asked.
Suddenly Mrs. Hodge clutched her throat. “Yes. The deed to this property!”
She dropped to her knees and began looking through the papers hurriedly. Nancy knelt beside her to help.
Finally Mrs. Hodge sat down on the floor, looking pathetically forlorn. “It’s gone! The deed to this farm has been stolen!”
“So that’s what the burglar was looking for,” Bess spoke up. “Oh, Mrs. Hodge, I’m dreadfully sorry. What will you do?”
During this conversation Nancy’s thoughts had turned to Wilbur Prizer. She felt sure he had planned the theft. The man, posing as a realtor, intended to use the deed in some way to get the Red Barn.
A few minutes later two police officers arrived. After hearing the story, one remarked, “Stealing a deed is a major offense. Mrs. Hodge, have you any idea who might have done it?”
“No, I haven’t, but Nancy Drew here has.”
When the young detective gave the name of the suspect, the officer who had introduced himself as Lieutenant Sanford said, “Wilbur Prizer is the same person you telephoned us about a few hours ago.”
“That’s right,” Nancy replied. “We think he is personally responsible for the ghostly happenings in certain places so he can force the owner to sell.
“He apparently also steals shell collections and Madame Tarantella is involved. I found a cowrie with her initials on it.” Nancy said she would turn the shell over to him and went to get it.
When she returned Sanford looked at her in amazement. “You’re an amateur detective, aren’t you? Haven’t I read about you in the newspapers?”
Nancy blushed and admitted that some of the mysteries she had solved had been publicized. Quickly changing the subject, she asked:
“Is there any news about Steve Rover and the car he went away in?”
“Yes,” Sanford replied. “The car was found abandoned. It had been stolen. Neither the man you saw nor Steve Rover has been seen.”
Bess caught her breath. “You mean Steve hasn’t returned home?”
The officer said No and his mother was frantic.
“No doubt the man who hired him to look for the shell learned about his meeting you in the woods. At this point that fellow Prizer probably decided it would be too dangerous to let Steve go.”
“I feel so sorry for his mother,” said Bess. “Oh, I hope that horrible Wilbur Prizer doesn’t hurt him.”
The policeman assured the group that every effort was being made to find the boy. The officers agreed that Prizer or one of his pals had come to the Hodge home with a dual purpose: to find the shell which had some special meaning to him and to steal the deed to the property.
The officers spent some time in the farmhouse searching for clues. Nancy watched them, fascinated, and picked up a couple of points which she felt might be useful in her own future investigations.
The two officers made several notes in their report books, but were not able to get any fingerprints or footprints. Sanford remarked, “Evidently the burglar walked around in stocking feet and had gloves on.”
He opened a kit and took out a strong magnifying glass to examine the floor in Mrs. Hodge’s bedroom. Presently he picked up a hair, then a speck of mud.
“The burglar has dark, bushy hair,” he announced. “And he may be staying near a stream where ferns are growing.” The officer looked at Nancy. “I’d say he has a bad temper and stomps his foot hard when he’s mad or frustrated. The fellow crushed fern leaves into the mud on his shoes.”
The policemen got ready to leave. “I’ll let you know what else we find out,” Sanford promised.
Shortly afterward, the other ghost hunters came in and were greatly upset when they heard of Mrs. Hodge’s loss. After checking their own belongings, they reported that nothing had been taken.
There had been so much excitement that supper had been forgotten. The girls offered to prepare the meal. At first Mrs. Hodge protested she could not allow paying guests to do this, but after a little persuasion she consented.
They had just finished eating when the telephone rang. Ned answered it but called Nancy, saying that her father was on the wire.
“How’s everything going?” Mr. Drew asked.
“Never a dull moment,” Nancy replied, and brought him up to date on events connected with the mystery.
Her father said, “You’re certainly having an exciting trip. I just had a telephone call from an acquaintance of mine, Mr. Warfield. He lives at the allegedly haunted mountain inn where you ghost hunters are supposed to go next.
“It’s a strange coincidence,” Mr. Drew went on. “Mr. Warfield of course didn’t know you were coming there. He called me to suggest that you make a trip to the place and solve the mystery.”
Nancy laughed. “I’m flattered,” she said.
“When do you plan to go there?” her father asked.
Nancy said the group had not discussed it yet, but she could see no reason for not going the next day.
“I doubt that the phantom horse will appear again,” she said. “The deed to the farm is a better weapon for Mr. Prizer to frighten Mrs. Hodge into selling.”
“Tell her not to accept any offers,” Mr. Drew advised. “Furthermore, I think that after you leave, Mrs. Hodge should hire a private detective to stay there with her.”
“I’ll tell her,” Nancy replied. She promised to call her father as soon as they arrived at Crag Mountain Inn.
After she had hung up, Nancy told Mrs. Hodge her father’s suggestion about hiring a detective. Then she joined the ghost hunters on the porch to talk over the idea of leaving. All agreed that since the police were working on the case of the Red Barn Guesthouse, there was no reason for them to stay any longer.
Ned said, “I suggest we pull out of here at ten o’clock and have lunch on the way. I could go for a lobster dinner and there’s a restaurant that specializes in it about two hours from here. I suppose we’re in no great hurry to arrive at Crag Mountain.”
“Your idea about a lobster sounds cool,” Burt spoke up. “I vote we stop there.”
In the morning they packed quickly and put the luggage in their cars. Mrs. Hodge said she could not thank Nancy and the others enough for all they had done. “I feel calmer now. In fact, I called my attorney and told him about the stolen deed. He agreed to take care of the matter.”
“That’s good,” said Nancy. All the ghost hunters shook hands with Mrs. Hodge and wished her luck. She in turn thanked them profusely for their help.
After a delicious lobster dinner en route, they arrived at Crag Mountain. The inn was built at the summit and on almost solid rock. Below it was dense woods.
Mr. Warfield, Mr. Drew’s friend, was waiting to greet Nancy and her friends. He was a tall, gray-haired man with a warm smile.
“As soon as you’ve been assigned rooms, I’ll brief you on this interesting old place and its history.”
Half an hour later the ghost hunters assembled in the lobby. Mr. Warfield was waiting for them.
“This inn,” he said, “was once a fortress and housed many prisoners. Legend has it that most of them died from maltreatment. Their ghosts wail and cry out in the dungeons and then escape to the outdoors where they flit around and scare people.”
Bess hunched her shoulders and frowned. It was evident this story was making her nervous.
Nancy asked, “How recently has anyone seen a ghost, Mr. Warfield?”
“Night before last,” he answered. “One of the guests who was seated outside rather late in the evening suddenly rushed into the lobby. He declared he had seen a ragged phantom soldier come through the wall of the basement and stagger around, then disappear among the trees.”
Nancy was suspicious. She asked, “Did only one guest see him?”
“Yes,” Mr. Warfield replied.
Nancy did not express her thoughts aloud but she was convinced it was another hoax. “Is the guest still here?”
Mr. Warfield shook his head. “The man said he wouldn’t stay another day and left early in the morning.”
Nancy had two theories about the story of the apparition. Either a specter had been arranged for the benefit of the guest so he could spread the story and keep people away from the inn, or the man had been a member of Prizer’s gang and had come to plant the untrue story.
Presently Mr. Warfield said that the next morning he would take the visitors to the lower part of the former fortress and show them the various sections. “The storerooms and kitchen are still used today,” he explained. “But the dungeons are locked up.”
“I’m glad of that,” Bab said.
George chuckled. “Are the keys left in the doors to make it easy for the ghosts to get out?”
Mr. Warfield laughed. “I don’t know the reason, but you’re right about the keys being left in the locks on the outside of the doors. They’re huge old-fashioned turnkeys. Perhaps the owner of this inn thinks they’re an interesting tourist attraction. You’ll see it all in the morning.”
The ghost hunters were intrigued by the promise of such a venture. Nancy determined to make a thorough search of the place.
“Tonight I’ll sit out on the terrace and watch for ghosts,” she said to herself.
The supper hour did not end until nine o’clock and everyone declared he had overeaten. “Let’s walk up and down the porch fifty times,” Ned proposed.
The ghost hunters giggled as they found themselves passing and repassing one another when they came to each end. Finally all of them went out to the stone parapet in front of the inn.
Some of the group sat in chairs, others on the ground, while still others, including Nancy, seated themselves on the wall near the edge. There was a lively exchange of banter followed by speculations about the mystery.
About an hour later they were startled to hear a whistling sound overhead. Looking up, the ghost hunters were amazed to see a bursting display of fireworks.
Almost immediately this was followed by a barrage of flaming rockets which came directly toward the watchers. Before Nancy could move, one of the rockets hit her arm and she cried out in pain.