“Thank goodness!” George exclaimed.
In a matter of seconds, a man wearing a mask, chest protector, and steel link gauntlets jumped from the car and opened the hood of the yellow convertible.
As the girls watched from a distance, the policeman lifted out a round object. There was no question but that it was a bomb! He dropped it into a bucket of oil before beckoning to the girls to come forward.
“What’s back of this?” he asked.
Quickly Nancy explained what little she knew.
“Looks as if you have a pretty devilish enemy,” the officer remarked.
“Yes,” Nancy agreed.
Bess said, “He’s a fiend trying to blow us up!”
“Well, his scheme was spoiled this time,” the policeman said, and added, “Your car is okay now.” He radioed a report of the incident to headquarters, then drove back to town.
The three girls stepped into the convertible and once more started off. As they entered the town of Tartanville, Nancy said she wanted to call her father and tell him what had happened. While she went into a drugstore to telephone, Bess and George waited in the car.
Just before Nancy returned, a man in a black convertible started to pass the cousins. He slowed down and stared first at Bess and George, then at the yellow car. Then the inquisitive man put on power and disappeared around a corner.
Suddenly Bess grabbed her cousin’s arm. “George!” she cried. “That was Nancy’s stolen car he was driving. It’s been painted black!”
CHAPTER III
An Upsetting Delay
By THE time George recovered from the surprise of hearing that the black automobile was Nancy’s stolen car, the young detective herself had come from the drugstore.
“Quick! Jump in!” Bess urged.
Nancy instantly got behind the wheel of the yellow convertible. “What’s up?” she asked.
“I saw your stolen car!” Bess told her. “The man drove it around that corner. Hurry!”
Driving as fast as she dared, Nancy headed in the direction her friend had indicated.
“It was painted black,” Bess explained, “but I recognized the funny-shaped ink stain on the upholstery in the back seat.”
“Say, that fellow could fit the description of the car thief,” George spoke up. “I wish we had noticed the license number.”
Nancy turned the corner and as she continued down the street, the other two girls looked in every driveway and crossroad. But their quarry was not in sight.
After they had gone nearly a mile, Nancy stopped. “The thief had too much of a head start,” she said. “Let’s go back to police headquarters and report this.”
As she was about to turn the car around, the girls saw a black convertible dart from an intersecting road some distance ahead and shoot down the highway.
“There he is!” Bess cried out.
Nancy set off in pursuit, but at the crossing was stopped by a red light. Irked by the delay, she put on extra power as soon as the traffic light turned green. The other vehicle was far ahead, but Nancy sped after it.
Suddenly George said, “Oh, oh!” as a motorcycle came roaring up behind them. In a moment it was alongside and the state trooper astride it motioned Nancy to the side of the road.
“Young lady,” he said sternly, “don’t you know what the speed limit here is?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Nancy replied, “but we’re after a thief who stole another car of mine.”
“Another car of yours?” The officer looked skeptical. “What kind of story is this?”
“It’s true!” Bess spoke up earnestly. “Please help us catch the man who stole it.”
“Well, okay. Follow me,” the police officer directed.
By this time the black car was out of sight, but the trooper sped along with Nancy close behind. Two miles of country road were covered without the pursuers getting another glimpse of the suspect.
Finally, the state trooper stopped. He said that he would radio headquarters to set up a roadblock. The girls gave him a brief description of the black car and its driver. Then, taking a two-way radio from his pocket, the officer got in touch with his chief.
When he finished the radio report, the trooper turned to the girls. “Where are you from and where are you going?” he asked.
Nancy answered his questions, then added her theory that the same man might have planted the bomb. That would account for his stopping to look at the yellow convertible.
“We’ll certainly try to find him,” the trooper promised.
Nancy asked that the police get in touch with her father if they located the stolen car.
“And thank you for your help, officer. By the way, is there a short cut from here to Route 57?”
“Yes.” The trooper gave directions and the three girls set off. As they rode along, Bess wore a worried frown.
“Oh, cheer up!” George chided her cousin. “Don’t feel bad because nothing came of your clue.”
“It’s not that,” Bess answered. “Now that we’ve lost the thief, there’s not a ghost of a chance of finding the car again. He knew that we were chasing him. And now he’ll paint the convertible still another color.”
George and Nancy agreed that Bess was probably right. “That isn’t all there is to it, either,” said Bess. “I have an awful feeling that thief doesn’t want you to reach New Orleans, Nancy. He not only stole your blue convertible—he put a bomb in this car and now he’s following us!”
“Even if that is true,” George remarked, “what can we do?”
“Park this car in the next town and go to New Orleans by train,” Bess declared.
There was silence for several seconds, then Nancy said reassuringly, “Oh, Bess, we won’t have to do that. If the thief stops to have the car repainted, we’ll get there way ahead of him.”
Bess thought this over, then felt better. “Well, all right,” she said. “But let’s step on it!”
Presently Nancy pulled to the side of the road. “Your turn at the wheel,” she said to George, who nodded and changed places with her friend.
Half an hour later they came to the bustling little town of Wrightsville.
“Oh, look!” Bess called out. “There’s a showroom with the same make car as this one. Isn’t that green sedan in the window a beauty?”
“It certainly is,” Nancy agreed. “But I’d rather have this yellow convertible.”
George had gone only half a block farther when suddenly the new car developed a strange, grinding noise in the rear.
Bess groaned. “Now what?” she asked.
Nancy was frowning. She suggested that George go around the block and come back to the service station connected to the automobile showroom. George turned at the next corner, but had not gone far when the noise grew definitely louder.
“We’d better stop,” Nancy advised.
As George pulled toward the curb, it sounded as if the rear end of the car had dropped to the street! Quickly the girls jumped out and rushed back to look. Nancy knelt to peer underneath.
“Oh, no!” she exclaimed in a woebegone voice. “The whole rear housing has given way!”
Nancy rose and for several seconds the three girls stared questioningly at one another. Was this a mechanical failure? Or had Nancy’s enemy tampered with the housing, in case the bomb failed to go off?
“I’ll walk back to that service station and have the car towed in,” said Nancy. “You stay here and guard our baggage.”
Although Nancy tried to sound nonchalant, Bess and George knew she was extremely upset.
“This is a shame!” George declared angrily, after Nancy had left.
“And dangerous!” Bess added. “If we’d been out on the highway going fast, we might have been killed!”
In a few minutes a tow car arrived and the disabled convertible was hoisted up and pulled to the service station. The three girls watched as the mechanics examined the broken housing. Presently one of them walked off to his workbench.
r /> He searched for several seconds among his tools, then picked up a small leather case. From it he took a magnifying glass. Holding this in one hand and a strong flashlight in the other, he made a thorough investigation of the metal section where the break had taken place.
Finally he turned to Nancy. “This wasn’t any mechanical defect,” he announced. “I’d say someone poured acid on the housing!”
The girls were aghast, but there was no question in their minds as to who had been responsible. Either the man who had stolen her car, or an accomplice, had damaged the new convertible.
“I’ll get the boss,” the mechanic offered. “He’ll see what can be done.”
The owner, Dan Compton, was summoned from the showroom. He examined the damage and agreed with the mechanic.
“This is certainly bad luck for you girls,” Dan said. “Where was this car purchased?”
When Nancy told him, he nodded. “Oh, I know Harry Smith in River Heights. He’s a good friend of mine.” After a moment he added, “I’ll phone him, and we’ll work something out.”
Without giving Nancy a chance to comment, he hurried to his office and put in the call. Five minutes later he returned to the garage, a smile on his face.
“Everything’s arranged, Miss Drew,” he said. “Harry wants me to lend you a car. I’m going on a little vacation and the car I ordinarily use for demonstrations will be idle. You’re welcome to take it for your trip. By the time you come back this way, your convertible will have a new housing in it ”
Nancy’s face broke into a broad grin. “I cer. tainly appreciate your help,” she said.
“Of course my demonstration car is not so fancy as yours,” Dan Compton told her. “It’s black, and the upholstery is just plain dark green.”
He led them to a corner of the garage where the car stood Bess smiled. “This suits me much better. The car is dark and inconspicuous. Now maybe that awful man won’t notice us.”
Before leaving town, the girls ate a belated lunch. Then they started off once more. By evening Bess was driving and the girls began to discuss how much farther they would go before stopping for the night.
“There’s an attractive motel, The Cedars, about two miles from here,” George said. “A neighbor of ours stopped there on a trip recently.”
“Let’s go there,” Bess put in. “I’m starved!”
Nancy glanced at her watch. It was nearly seven o’clock and she, too, was getting hungry.
“I vote we stay at the motel tonight.”
When they reached The Cedars, Bess turned in and parked. After the girls had been assigned to modern, comfortable rooms, they washed, brushed their hair, then went to a coffee shop next to the lobby.
“Mm. I’ll have this fried chicken platter,” Bess decided as she studied the menu.
“Sounds wonderful to me,” Nancy said, and George chose the same.
Then Nancy asked the girls to order for her. “I want to phone home and tell Dad about the sabotaged housing.”
When the connection was made with her home, Hannah Gruen answered.
“Hello, Hannah! How are you and Dad?”
“Oh, we’re fine,” said Hannah. “We have some news for you.”
“Yes? What is it?” Nancy asked eagerly.
“Your stolen license plates were found.”
The housekeeper said that the River Heights police had had a tip from a disgruntled hoodlum who had been promised some money by a man and never been paid.
“So this fellow decided to talk,” Mrs. Gruen explained. “He told the police about a deserted cabin outside of town where some car thieves had dumped stolen license plates. The ones from your car, Nancy, were among them.”
“Oh!” said Nancy.
Mrs. Gruen went on, “And—and they found something else, too. Oh, Nancy, you must be careful!”
CHAPTER IV
A Nerve-Tingling Ride
“MAYBE you girls had better give up the trip,” Mrs. Gruen suggested nervously.
“But why?” Nancy asked. “What else did the police discover?”
The housekeeper said that among the pile of stolen plates which had been found there was a pistol. Apparently it had been accidentally dropped. Hannah was sure that a dangerous person or persons who carried weapons intended to make trouble for Nancy, Bess, and George if they continued their trip.
Nancy herself was worried, and told Hannah what had happened to the new car. But she added quickly:
“We’re driving a different car. It’s black, and not so conspicuous as the yellow one. What’s more, we saw the thief. Now that he knows he’s been recognized, he won’t dare appear in the daytime. Please don’t worry, Hannah dear.”
“Well, I suppose it’s all right,” said the housekeeper. “I do wish your father were here to advise you. But he’s gone out of town for the night.”
Nancy said good-by and hung up. When she relayed the latest clue to Bess and George, they agreed that the safest thing for them to do would be to get ahead of the thief on the road.
“So let’s start at once,” said Nancy, “and drive until dawn at least. We can take turns driving and sleeping. Suppose we eat supper here. Then we’ll give up our rooms and start on.”
The girls found the meal of fried chicken, accompanied by hot corn bread and sweet potatoes, very tasty. For dessert they had delicious homemade pecan pie.
“I could go to sleep right now,” said Bess, yawning contentedly. “I ate too much!”
“I feel fine,” George said. “I’ll take first turn at the wheel.”
After picking up their bags, the girls went to the car. Nancy and Bess climbed into the rear seat and were soon sound asleep. George drove for nearly two hours, then stopped. She awoke Bess, who was to take her turn at driving.
“Where are we?” asked the plump girl, sleepily surveying the blackness around them.
George said they had crossed the state line a half hour ago. “We’re getting into the mountains now, so take it easy,” she advised.
As Bess started off, she was very quiet. She did not reveal her feelings to her cousin, but she was beginning to think that the trip had a jinx on it.
The wind was blowing hard, there was no moon and not one star in the sky. Bess felt a slight chill run up her spine.
“It’s just plain spooky!” she told herself.
By now, George was sleeping soundly beside Nancy in the rear seat. Bess, a good driver, put mile after mile behind them. Fortunately, there was only one main road, so she had no decision to make about which direction to take. But at one o’clock she came to an intersecting highway.
“Now which way do I go?” Bess asked herself, stopping the car.
Turning her spotlight on the sign, she carefully read the names of the towns in each direction. Not one of them was familiar to her and gave her no clue as to which road to take. Bess opened the glove compartment and took out a map. She spread it on her lap and tried to figure out just where she was.
Suddenly a voice at her elbow startled her, “Can I help you?”
Alongside her partially open window stood a smiling young man. Bess gave an involuntary squeal, then asked, “Wh-where did you come from?”
Her outcry had awakened the two girls in the rear seat. They sat up, alert at once. Both were amazed to see the stranger.
“Hello there,” he said pleasantly to Nancy and George. To Bess he added, “I see you have passengers.”
“Yes,” said Bess. “And maybe you can help us.”
“Glad to,” the young man replied. “Sorry if I frightened you. I just parked over in those woods with my trailer about half an hour ago and hadn’t gone to bed yet. When I saw you stop, I figured you might be lost. Where do you want to go?”
“New Orleans,” Bess replied.
The young man laughed. “You’re a long way from there,” he said. “But at this point I think the best thing for you to do is turn left, go through Titusville, and then hit the highway.”
“Thank you
very much,” Bess said with a smile.
She was already folding up the map and putting it away. As she started off, the stranger called, “Oh, wait a minute!”
Bess instantly became alarmed. Was this man going to detain them? But he went on pleasantly, “Say, maybe you’re the three girls that man was asking about a little while ago.”
“What man?” Nancy spoke up quickly.
“A fellow in a black convertible with black-and-red seat covers. He stopped here right after I parked and I came out to talk to him. He asked me if three girls traveling alone had gone past here.”
Nancy and her friends looked questioningly at one another. Could the driver have been the person who had stolen Nancy’s car?
“Oh, I’m sure we’re not the girls he meant,” George put in hastily. “What did this man look like?”
The description the stranger gave exactly fitted that of the car thief!
“What else did he say?” Nancy asked.
“The man said that the two cars had been traveling together, but somehow had become separated.”
“I see,” said Nancy. “Did he happen to say where he was going?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Which road did he take?”
The young man pointed straight ahead. Bess asked, “Could you go to New Orleans taking that road?”
“Yes, you could. It would be shorter, as a matter of fact. But the road isn’t very good.”
Nancy asked to see the map and once more Bess took it out of the compartment. A thought had come to the girl detective—maybe the affable young stranger was in league with the car thief!
Although she realized her suspicions probably were wrong, Nancy decided it would be best not to take either of the roads he had mentioned.
Following her hunch, she told him briefly that the girls had had enough driving for one night and would stay at a hotel in the nearest town.
“Turn right, Bess,” she said.
She thanked the young man for his help, then the girls drove off. Nancy told the cousins her suspicions and said that as soon as they reached another crossroad, they would turn left. “Then we’ll go left again and finally hit Titusville.”