"Oh dear, that would ruin everything, wouldn't it?" Nancy declared.
"You bet it would! Wed never have a chance of finishing the film on time. Finding another place to shoot as good as Grimsby Mansion is practically hopeless." Ned sounded desolate.
"Well, it hasn't happened yet, so don't give up. We'll just have to convince Mr. Ullman that the film club wasn't to blame."
"That may be easier said than done." Nevertheless, Nancy's encouragement seemed to have given Ned at least a small ray of hope. "How about having lunch with me tomorrow?"
"I'd love to. And we can talk over what to do."
Monday morning dawned sunny and pleasantly warm, yet not quite so humid as usual for mid-July. After breakfast, Nancy donned a tailored shirt, jodhpurs, and boots, then added a brown belt and brown scarf. Taking her riding crop, she dashed downstairs to ask her father if he would drop her at Rainbow Ranch on the way to his office.
"I'd be glad to, honey," he replied. "Is that where you're stabling Black Prince now?"
"No, Prince is still at the usual place. I've been asked to model for a TV commercial, Dad, and some stills have to be taken today to show the advertising agency."
"Well, well. ,, Carson Drew smiled proudly at his daughter. "That's wonderful, Nancy. What's the product to be advertised?"
"I haven't even asked yet," she giggled. "I'll probably find out today, and then I can tell you and Hannah all about it tonight."
When Nancy arrived at Rainbow Ranch and walked up the tree-lined, gravel drive, she saw four men standing talking near the stables. Some camera cases, tripods, and other equipment were piled nearby on the grass.
"Ah! Here comes our leading lady now!" Tony Traynor greeted her with a look of smiling approval. "Nancy, I'd like you to meet Marty Martin, my assistant." He indicated a slender young man with a shock of brown hair. "And this is Monsieur Philippe, our makeup artist."
The latter, a bearded man in his late twenties with a receding hairline, bowed and beamed at Nancy.
Tony examined Nancy's costume. "Your clothes should be just fine for these shots, Nancy. So if you'll just put yourself in Philippe's hands ..." Turning to the makeup man, he said, "Take over."
Monsieur Philippe stepped Forward, scrutinizing Nancy's features and hair. "There's not much I shall have to do," he announced judiciously. "A little more eye makeup and some highlighting of these wonderful cheekbones ought to do it."
With a few deft touches, shadowing the planes of Nancy's face, he achieved a surprising effect. Nancy scarcely recognized herself when he held up a mirror.
"What do you think, Tony?" Monsieur Philippe asked.
"She looks terrific to me!"
"Indeed, she does!" put in Roger Harlow, speaking for the first time. Up until that moment, he had remained silently in the background, letting the photographic specialists deal with the model for the commercial in their own way.
Nancy smiled back gratefully at the master of Rainbow Ranch. "We haven't even said hello yet," she greeted him.
"We'll chat later, Nancy."
At Tony's suggestion, they proceeded to the fenced-in paddock where a stablehand was waiting with a beautiful bay filly, saddled and ready for Nancy to mount.
"Oh, she's a beauty! What's her name?" the girl asked, patting the horse.
"This is Molly Malone. She never gives any trouble." The stablehand smiled and handed the reins to Nancy.
Tony Traynor and his assistant were busy preparing the cameras and using a light meter to check the intensity of the sunshine reflected from their subjects. Presently, as Nancy continued patting and talking to the horse, Tony began snapping pictures.
Without any trace of self-consciousness, she found herself responding easily to the orders and suggestions he called out.
As Nancy posed, she noticed a pretty little golden-haired girl some distance from the paddock. She was standing half-hidden by a tree, watching shyly as Nancy and the horse were photographed. She looked to be about seven years old and seemed ready to duck out of sight behind the tree at a moment's notice.
"Okay, Nancy, now mount up and ride around the paddock a couple of times," Tony called out. "Then come out of the gate and, let's see, ride across that brook on the far side of the drive and then circle back this way again."
Nancy obeyed, carrying out his instructions with the grace and poise she had acquired from performing in numerous horse shows. As Molly Malone finally cantered out of the paddock, she noticed that the little girl had disappeared.
Nancy spurred her mount into a gallop as they approached the brook. She was pleased at the way the filly cleared the stream with an easy leap. As they circled through the trees beyond, a small, open pavilion came into view. The little blond girl was inside it, comfortably reclining on a wicker chaise, reading a book.
At the sound of approaching hoofbeats, the child looked up, her eyes widening in fear. With a scream of fright, she scrambled to her feet, her book flying to the floor of the pavilion.
Nancy reined up quickly and jumped down from the saddle, intending to apologize and reassure the little girl. But the child was already running off toward the house.
Disturbed by the incident, Nancy picked up the book, remounted, and resumed her ride. Tony was still snapping pictures swiftly as she came galloping up to the paddock, reined the horse to a halt, and swung down again from the saddle.
"Wonderful, Nancy!" Tony Traynor congratulated her. "I got some great shots! I think these should do it. Ill have them developed and show them to the agency tomorrow."
He turned and grinned as the owner of Rainbow
Ranch came walking toward them. "Well, how did you like our star?"
"She's every bit the horsewoman that you said she was!"
Roger Harlow smiled and patted the bay. "And how did you like this little filly, Nancy?"
"She's a lovely horse, Mr. Harlow." Nancy's face clouded as she went on, "But I'm afraid I accidentally frightened a little girl who was reading in the pavilion. I do hope she's all right! Here's her book."
"Thank you, Nancy. That was my granddaughter Tina, who's staying with me this summer."
As they strolled away from the paddock, Mr. Harlow went on, "I don't know what's gotten into the child. She was such a contented, outgoing little girl, but now she's so timid and unhappy she's even afraid of horses."
A sad look came over Roger Harlow's face. "Maybe she misses my wife. Tina loved her grandmother very much." He was silent for a moment, staring at the brook. "And then Tina's mother, my daughter Zona, had a bad fall from a horse soon after my wife's death. Perhaps all that was enough to cause the change in Tina."
Nancy said softly, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Harlow. I wish I could help. Is your daughter here?"
"No, she and Tina's father are taking a leisurely cruise while she recovers from her accident. The odd thing is that, for the first week or two after Tina arrived, she seemed to be enjoying herself. Then she changed suddenly." The master of Rainbow Ranch shook his head. "I don't understand it."
As he finished speaking, a car came crunching up the gravel drive. It stopped near the stable where Tony Traynor had now joined Nancy and their host. A fair-haired man with a pencil-thin mustache stepped out from behind the wheel and waved to them.
"Hello, Hugh!" Mr. Harlow waved back.
"Uh—oh! Look who's here!" Tony muttered in an amused aside to Nancy. "That's Hugh Morston. He owns a New York ad agency that's been trying to snag the account we're doing this commercial for. I'll bet he came to find out what we're up to!"
As their visitor approached, Mr. Harlow said, "Nancy, I'd like you to meet Hugh Morston, my closest neighbor and fellow horse breeder. Hugh, this lovely young lady is Nancy Drew."
The newcomer flashed a wide smile. "Not related to Carson Drew, the lawyer, are you?"
Nancy smiled back. "Yes, I'm his daughter. Nice to meet you, Mr. Morston."
"And this is Tony Traynor," Harlow went on. "Or do you two know each other?"
"Ye
s, indeed," Morston replied as they exchanged cool smiles and a brusque handshake. "Well, Traynor, out here on business or pleasure? I heard you were shooting a commercial for Biddle and Downes."
"That's right. And this jobs pure pleasure," Traynor said, smiling at Nancy.
"By the way, Roger," Hugh Morston said, turning to Mr. Harlow, "I don't like being the one to tell you, but I thought you ought to see a story in this morning's paper."
He took out the newspaper he was carrying tucked under one arm and handed it to Roger Harlow. It was folded open to the racing page. "I hope you'll publicly denounce this nonsense in the strongest possible terms!" he added, pointing to the article in question.
As Mr. Harlow read it, his expression darkened like a thundercloud. "This is outrageous!" he exclaimed, his face red with anger.
Suddenly, he clutched his chest as if struggling for breath. The next moment, he swayed and his legs seemed to give way beneath him!
5. The Surly Trainer
Tony Traynor moved swiftly to catch Mr. Harlow before he could fall. "Quick! Give me a hand!" he exclaimed to Hugh Morston.
Supporting the ranch owner under each arm, the two managed to get the limp and nearly unconscious man into the house. Nancy followed after picking up the newspaper that had fallen from Mr. Harlow's hands.
Once again, as on other occasions, her first-aid training proved invaluable. Nancy loosened her host's collar, had the two men elevate his feet, and then rubbed his wrists until Mr. Harlow's color began returning to normal.
Meanwhile, Tony Tray nor had summoned the maid, who hastily brought her employers usual medication. "He's supposed to take a spoonful of this twice a day," she said, her own face pale with alarm. "I remind him every morning, but often he wont bother/'
With Tony's help, Nancy was able to spoon a dose of the medicine into Mr. Harlow's mouth, and presently he had recovered enough to sit up and talk.
"Shouldn't we call your doctor?" Nancy asked him anxiously.
"No, no, my dear. But I appreciate your concern." He patted her hand to reassure her. "It's my own fault for not following his orders. I suffer from a touch of high blood pressure, you see, but I'm quite all right now, thanks to you people!"
Hugh Morston apologized for upsetting his host with the unpleasant news item, although Nancy noticed that he did not really seem much disturbed by what had happened. He said good-bye and drove off a few minutes later. Tony Traynor also left as soon as he was satisfied that Mr. Harlow was all right.
By this time, Nancy had been able to glance at the newspaper. The item in question was a paragraph in a racing column:
Now that Shooting Star may not get a chance to run in the River Heights Handicap, many experts seem to be having second thoughts about the two-year-old's chances of winning that important race. Even his owner, Roger Harlow, is rumored to be worried that the stolen thoroughbred might not run well enough to justify all the money that was bet on him.
"Can you imagine how that makes me feel?" Mr. Harlow asked when he saw Nancy reading the column.
"Obviously pretty angry." Nancy hesitated before asking with a frown, "This implies that you won't mind if Shooting Star doesn't run in the handicap, doesn't it?"
"You bet it does! And that's not the worst of it. I don't mind telling you that I staked a lot of money on Shooting Star to win. But once the news came out that he'd been stolen, somebody began spreading a rumor that I'd staged the theft myself!"
"But why?" Nancy gasped incredulously.
"The rumor also hints that I knew Shooting Star wasn't in good racing form, and I didn't want to lose all the money Id bet on him. Therefore I arranged to have him stolen so he wouldn't have to run. Its all untrue, of course. But now this columnist has spread the lie even wider by printing it in the newspaper!"
Nancy was shocked, but, in order not to raise her hosts blood pressure again, thought it wisest to change the subject. "I guess that's all the more reason why we have to find Shooting Star as soon as possible,'' she said lightly.
"You're right, my dear,'' Roger Harlow agreed with a smile. "Suppose we go out to the stable now so you can see where and how the theft occurred.''
Nancy reminded her host that perhaps he should not exert himself too soon after his attack, but Mr. Harlow assured her that he had entirely recovered and was feeling perfectly well.
Leaving the house, they strolled across the wide sweep of emerald lawn toward the white-painted, red-roofed stables. Like every other part of Rainbow Ranch, the latter appeared to be kept in very good order. Several horses could be seen grazing in the paddock, and at least one was being exercised by a groom.
After pausing on the way to point out each of his thoroughbreds by name, Mr. Harlow introduced Nancy to a man standing in the stable doorway who had b$en watching them approach.
"This is my trainer, Kurt Ellum," he said. "Kurt, this is Miss Nancy Drew. She's quite a sleuth. You may have heard of her. I'm hoping she can help us find Shooting Star."
The trainer gave a rather surly grunt. "She'll have to be pretty good to do that. Even the police don't seem to be having much luck."
Doffing his long-visored cap, he shook hands brusquely.
"How do you do," Nancy said with a smile. "You're right that it won't be easy to do better than the police. But I've worked with them before, and they always seem to appreciate any clues I can turn up."
Ellum, a heavy man with short, bristly, dark hair, was wearing a khaki shirt with rolled-up sleeves and jeans tucked into cowboy boots. "Lots of luck," he commented skeptically. "They've already been here a half-dozen times and questioned everyone who works around the stables."
Nancy refused to be put off by the trainer's rather scornful manner. His attitude seemed to imply that no mere slip of a girl had any chance of succeeding where regular officers of the law had failed.
After looking through the two connecting stable buildings, each one neatly partitioned into separate stalls, Nancy asked, "Was anyone on guard the night Shooting Star was stolen?"
"Yes, Alf Sanchez," Ellum replied bitterly. "He fell asleep on the job."
"Alf was a good enough stablehand," put in Mr. Harlow mildly. 'Tin sure he didn't mean to let us down. But he's getting on in years and probably couldn't help dozing off."
Nancy noticed her host's use of the past tense in saying that Sanchez had been a good stablehand. "Doesn't he work here any more?" she asked.
"You think I'd keep him on after he let Mr. Harlow's best horse get stolen right under his nose?" Ellum retorted. "I fired him!"
"Where is he now?"
"I believe he's still living in Keanesville," said Mr. Harlow.
Nancy asked for his address and wrote it down, saying that she would like to question him.
"Go ahead," said Ellum, "but I can tell you right now what sort of silly story he'll tell you. He'll claim someone drugged his coffee thermos that night to make him pass out. That's the excuse he tried to hand us and the cops."
"Are you sure it's not true?"
"Absolutely! The police had his thermos tested in their crimelab and proved it contained no trace of any sleeping drug."
"It's understandable that Alf got drowsy," Roger Harlow put in. "As I say, he's an elderly chap, and at his age he needs his rest. It was no doubt my fault for not choosing one of the younger hands to act as watchman."
Nancy asked thoughtfully, "Could the noise of the fireworks be heard this far from the park?"
"Yes, that's a good point," Harlow said. "The cook was here, preparing a snack for us all when we got back from the celebration. She said the booms and bangs were so loud, they sounded as if the firecrackers were going off right outside the house. Undoubtedly, that's why the thieves picked that particular time for the theft—so the noise would cover any sounds that Shooting Star might make when he was taken from his stall. But once Alf got used to the sounds, they evidently weren't enough to stop him from dozing off."
Mr. Harlow invited Nancy to stay for lunch, but she explain
ed that she had a date with her boyfriend. Ned Nickerson called for her soon after she returned home, and they started off in his car for a restaurant in River Heights.
"I saw Professor Barnes this morning," Ned reported. "He told me he called the contest sponsors, and they've agreed to let him change the information on the entry form. So now you can be listed as one of the actresses in our film and play the role we planned."
"Oh, Ned, I'm so glad!" Nancy said happily.
"Well, that's the good news."
"You mean there's bad news?"
"The worst! Because of that fire Saturday night, Ullman Realty has decided we cant use the Grimsby Mansion." The expression on Neds face was as gloomy as his tone of voice.
"Oh, no!" Nancy exclaimed in dismay. "Surely, Mr. Ullman wouldn't be so unfair? The film club's not to blame for the fire!"
"He's convinced we are to blame, and the upshot is he's not going to risk any further damage to the property!"
Nancy fell silent as she pondered the problem. The realtor's attitude might be unfair, but there was no use complaining about it. The question was what could be done to change his mind? "I think we should ask Dr. Davis to talk to Mr. Ullman," Nancy declared after a few minutes. "She seemed like a very fair-minded person. Maybe he'll listen to her.
And I'll try to persuade him, too, Ned. Perhaps, when he calms down, hell listen to reason."
"Thanks, Nancy. I hope you're right. But I sure wouldn't count on it!"
When they arrived at the Purple Parrot in River Heights, the restaurant was already filling up with noontime patrons and a cheerful buzz of conversation filled the air. Nancy was delighted to see her two closest friends among them.
"Look, Ned! There are Bess and George!" she murmured, waving.
Ned followed as she made her way to their table. Nancy hoped that Bess's and George's high-spirited chatter might help to cheer Ned up, and outwardly at least her plan seemed to work.
"Have you ever been to the Deene Art Gallery in Fernwood?" Bess asked. She babbled on enthusiastically when both Ned and Nancy shook their heads. "You should go. There's a marvelous exhibit of ceramics going on there. I'm dying to see it!"