Carolyn Keene - The Hidden Staircase

Nancy looked up at Helen, who nodded silently. Nancy continued to write, "I don't want to worry Miss Flora or Aunt Rosemary, so let's keep our plans a secret. I suggest that we go to bed tonight as usual and carry on a conversation about our plans for tomorrow. But actually we won't take off our clothes. Then about midnight let's tiptoe downstairs to watch. I'll wait in the kitchen. Do you want to stay in the living room?"

Again Helen nodded. Nancy, thinking that they had been quiet too long, and that if there was an eavesdropper nearby he might become suspicious, said aloud, "What would Miss Flora and Aunt Rosemary like for lunch, Helen?"

"Why, uh—" Helen found it hard to transfer to the new subject. "They—uh—both love soup."

"Then I'll make cream of chicken soup," said Nancy. "Hand me a can of chicken and rice, will you? And I'll get the milk."

As Helen was doing this, Nancy lighted a match, held her recently written note over the sink, and set fire to the paper.

Helen smiled. "Nancy thinks of everything," she said to herself.

The girls chatted gaily as they prepared the food and finally carried four trays out to the garden. They did not mention their midnight plan. The day in the garden was proving to be most beneficial to Miss Flora, and the girls were sure she would sleep well that night.

Nancy's plan was followed to the letter. Just as the grandfather clock in the hall was striking midnight, Nancy arrived in the kitchen and sat down to await developments. Helen was posted in a living-room chair near the hall doorway. Moonlight streamed into both rooms but the girls had taken seats in the shadows.

Helen was mentally rehearsing the further instructions which Nancy had written to her during the afternoon. The young sleuth had suggested that if Helen should see anyone, she was to run to the front door, open it, and yell "Police!" At the same time she was to try to watch where the intruder disappeared.

The minutes ticked by. There was not a sound in the house. Then suddenly Nancy heard the front door open with a bang and Helen's voice yell loudly and clearly:

"Police! Help! Police!"

CHAPTER XI

An Elusive Ghost

BY THE time Nancy reached the front hall, Tom Patrick, the police guard, had rushed into the house. "Here I am!" he called. "What's the matter?"

Helen led the way into the living room, and switched on the chandelier light.

"That sofa next to the fireplace!" she said in a trembling voice. "It moved! I saw it move!"

"You mean somebody moved it?" the detective asked.

"I—I don't know," Helen replied. "I couldn't see anybody."

Nancy walked over to the old-fashioned sofa, set in the niche alongside the fireplace. Certainly the piece was in place now. If the ghost had moved it, he had returned the sofa to its original position.

"Let's pull it out and see what we can find," Nancy suggested.

She tugged at one end, while the guard pulled the other. It occurred to Nancy that a person who moved it alone would have to be very strong.

"Do you think your ghost came up through a trap door or something?" the detective asked.

Neither of the girls replied. They had previously searched the area, and even now as they looked over every inch of the floor and the three walls surrounding the high sides of the couch, they could detect nothing that looked like an opening.

By this time Helen looked sheepish. "I—I guess I was wrong," she said finally. Turning to the police guard, she said, "I'm sorry to have taken you away from your work."

"Don't feel too badly about it. But I'd better get back to my guard duty," the man said, and left the house.

"Oh, Nancy!" Helen cried out. "I'm so sorry!"

She was about to say more but Nancy put a finger to her lips. They could use the same strategy for trapping the thief at another time. In case the thief might be listening, Nancy did not want to give away their secret.

Nancy felt that after all the uproar the ghost would not appear again that night. She motioned to Helen that they would go quietly upstairs and get some sleep. Hugging the walls of the stairway once more, they ascended noiselessly, tiptoed to their room, and got into bed.

"I'm certainly glad I didn't wake up Miss Flora and Aunt Rosemary," said Helen sleepily as she whispered good night.

Though Nancy had been sure the ghost would not enter the mansion again that night, she discovered in the morning that she had been mistaken. More food had been stolen sometime between midnight and eight o'clock when she and Helen started breakfast. Had the ghost taken it for personal use or only to worry the occupants of Twin Elms ?

"I missed my chance this time," Nancy murmured to her friend. "After this, I'd better not trust what that ghost's next move may be!"

At nine o'clock Hannah Gruen telephoned the house. Nancy happened to answer the ring and after the usual greetings was amazed to hear Hannah say, "I'd like to speak to your father."

"Why, Dad isn't here!" Nancy told her. "Don't you remember—the telegram said he wasn't coming?"

"He's not there!" Hannah exclaimed. "Oh, this is bad, Nancy— very bad."

"What do you mean, Hannah?" Nancy asked fearfully.

The housekeeper explained that soon after receiving the telegram on Tuesday evening, Mr. Drew himself had phoned. "He wanted to know if you were still in Cliffwood, Nancy. When I told him yes, he said he would stop off there on his way home Wednesday."

Nancy was frightened, but she asked steadily, "Hannah, did you happen to mention the telegram to him?"

"No, I didn't," the housekeeper replied. "I didn't think it was necessary."

"Hannah darling," said Nancy, almost on the verge of tears, "I'm afraid that telegram was a hoax!"

"A hoax!" Mrs. Gruen cried out.

"Yes. Dad's enemies sent it to keep me from meeting him!"

"Oh, Nancy," Hannah wailed, "You don't suppose those enemies that Mr. Comber warned you about have waylaid your father and are keeping him prisoner?"

"I'm afraid so," said Nancy. Her knees began to quake and she sank into the chair alongside the telephone table.

"What'll we do?" Hannah asked. "Do you want me to notify the police?"

"Not yet. Let me do a little checking first."

"All right, Nancy. But let me know what happens."

"I will."

Nancy put the phone down, then looked at the various telephone directories which lay on the table. Finding one which contained River Heights numbers, she looked for the number of the telegraph office and put in a call. She asked the clerk who answered to verify that there had been a telegram from Mr. Drew on Tuesday.

After a few minutes wait, the reply came. "We have no record of such a telegram."

Nancy thanked the clerk and hung up. By this time her hands were shaking with fright. What had happened to her father?

Getting control of herself, Nancy telephoned in turn to the airport, the railroad station, and the bus lines which served Cliffwood. She inquired about any accidents which might have occurred on trips from Chicago the previous day or on Tuesday night. In each case she was told there had been none.

"Oh, what shall I do?" Nancy thought in dismay.

Immediately an idea came to her and she put in a call to the Chicago hotel where her father had registered. Although she thought it unlikely, it was just possible that he had changed his mind again and was still there. But a conversation with the desk clerk dashed this hope.

"No, Mr. Drew is not here. He checked out Tuesday evening. I don't know his plans, but I'll connect you with the head porter. He may be able to help you."

In a few seconds Nancy was asking the porter what he could tell her to help clear up the mystery of her father's disappearance. "All I know, miss, is that your father told me he was taking a sleeper train and getting off somewhere Wednesday morning to meet his daughter."