The Hidden Window Mystery

  “Ned, look out!” Nancy exclaimed.

  “Be careful!” Nancy begged.

  Suddenly, above the sounds of the growling dog, came a man’s icy command. “Stop that, Prince!” To Ned, he cried out, “And you, ruffian, what are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER X

  The Haunted House

  THE speaker, carrying a flashlight, strode into view. Nancy nearly tumbled from her perch in dismay.

  The man was Mark Bradshaw!

  His mouth set grimly, he stared at Ned, who still held the dog by the collar. An involuntary gasp from Nancy made the artist look up suddenly into the tree. He blinked, then asked, “What is the meaning of this, Nancy?”

  As he spoke, Mr. Bradshaw took the pinscher from Ned. The animal immediately quieted down and crouched at his master’s feet.

  “Mr. Bradshaw,” Nancy began, “I’m dreadfully sorry. Before I explain, let me introduce my friend Ned Nickerson. Ned, this is Mr. Bradshaw, the artist who makes stained-glass windows.”

  Mr. Bradshaw acknowledged the introduction but did not put out his hand to shake Ned’s.

  Nancy hurried on with her explanation. “I know we’re trespassing on your property,” she said. “I dropped a compact near the studio this morning and returned to get it. Your dog came after me and I ran. I couldn’t think of anything else to do but climb a tree. Ned was waiting for me some distance back. When I didn’t return, he came to look for me.”

  “That’s right,” Ned said.

  “I’d like to come down,” Nancy said. “Will you please hold your dog?”

  The artist did not reply. He did speak to the pinscher, though, telling him everything was all right and to be quiet. Nancy slid down the tree and stood before Mr. Bradshaw.

  “Ned and I will hurry along now and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Mr. Bradshaw’s harsh expression did not relax. In icy tones he said, “We’ll forget the whole incident, Nancy. But I shall be busy for the next few days and unable to give you further lessons.”

  “Please call me,” Nancy urged. The young sleuth berated herself for having been caught. She probably had lost her opportunity to keep an eye on Rugby at the studio.

  As she and Ned made their way back toward the driveway, Mr. Bradshaw and the dog followed them. Nancy kept flashing her light as if she were looking for the compact. When they reached the studio, she saw it gleaming in the bush. Nancy pounced upon it eagerly, hoping her action might soften Mr. Bradshaw’s attitude. Now, believing that she had told the truth, he might let her resume the lessons. But the man walked with them as far as his home without speaking.

  “Nice sociable guy,” Ned commented later.

  Nancy sighed. “He may have heard that I like to solve mysteries and is wondering why I was spying around his place.”

  When Nancy and Ned reached the Carr home, they heard music and singing. George was doing a comic impersonation. But she stopped in the middle of it and stared at her chum.

  “Nancy! You’re a mess! What have you been doing?”

  “Climbing a tree,” Nancy replied and explained about her predicament.

  Instead of sympathizing with Nancy, her friends burst into laughter. Burt struck a pose as if holding a newspaper and began reading an imaginary headline:NANCY DREW, GREAT DETECTIVE, Treed By Villainous Hound!

  “That’s enough teasing,” Bess announced. “Let’s continue our game of imitating famous people.”

  Nancy changed her clothes and joined the group. At one o’clock the visiting boys announced they must say good-by. “We’ll see you at Emerson for the Spring Dance.”

  “We’ll be there,” the girls chorused.

  The following morning, when Nancy was relaxing under a large oak tree and wondering how she might find out more about Alonzo Rugby, the rural delivery mailman drove up in his car. Nancy hurried to meet him at the mailbox.

  “Good morning,” she said. “I hope there’s some mail for me.”

  “If you’re Nancy Drew and you’re expecting a letter from River Heights, I’ve brought it,” he announced. When Nancy introduced herself and received the letter, the mailman added, “You know, I deliver a good many letters from River Heights.”

  Instantly Nancy was on the alert. “You mean to Alonzo Rugby?”

  “Yes. You know him? I think the letters are from his sister.”

  “Oh yes—Mrs. Dondo is a neighbor of mine in River Heights,” Nancy remarked.

  “Mr Rugby boards at a small farm on Uplands Road,” said the friendly mailman. “The place is owned by a widow named Mrs. Paget.”

  The letter carrier now said good-by and drove off. Nancy stood lost in thought. She had driven along Uplands Road the previous day. Not only was it nowhere near Eddy Run, but Mrs. Paget’s farm was in the opposite direction from that which Rugby had taken in the canoe the evening before.

  “Where was he going at that hour?” Nancy mused. “Maybe I can find out from Mrs. Paget!”

  Nancy opened a letter from her father and learned that Mrs. Dondo had stopped gossiping to the neighbors about her. But she insisted upon prosecuting Mr. Ritter to get her hundred dollars. Mr. Drew stated that if his daughter could unearth any clues in Charlottesville, it would help a great deal.

  Hurrying to the house, Nancy delivered several letters to the others. Then she told them what her father had written and how she had learned where Rugby lived.

  “I’m going over there at the first opportunity,” she said.

  Nancy knew it would not be possible to go that day because Susan was having a party in the girls’ honor that evening and needed her car for several errands. Cliff had already left in his.

  “We ought to help with the party, anyway,” Nancy said to Bess and George.

  At luncheon, Cliff made an announcement. “You girls have turned me into a detective. Nancy, do you remember telling me you were going to see if any Greystones ever lived in this area? Well, I found out for you.”

  “Oh, thank you, Cliff. What’s the answer?”

  “I contacted a historical authority of this area. He said there weren’t any Greystones around the Charlottesville area in eighteen fifty. So I’m afraid, you’re not going to find your stained-glass window here, Nancy,” Cliff deduced.

  Nancy laughed. “I’m not giving up yet!”

  The Carrs’ guests were to arrive about seven o’clock that evening. Nancy was the first of the three girls to finish dressing. After a final glance in the mirror, she left her room to go downstairs. Passing Susan and Cliff’s bedroom she overheard Susan say, “Alicia Bradshaw phoned and said that she and Mark would not be able to come tonight. She gave no reason. Do you suppose it could be because of what happened last night to Nancy?”

  Cliff said something in a low voice and Nancy went on downstairs. The last thing she wanted to do was cause any difficulty between Susan and her friends! For a moment she even toyed with the idea of going home, but thought better of it immediately.

  “If the Bradshaws are staying away because of me, I think they’re acting very strangely.”

  Nancy forgot the episode when the Carrs, Bess, and George joined her a few minutes later. Soon the guests began to arrive. The girls from River Heights found them all delightful people.

  Before long, a good-looking young man named Paul Staunton sought out Nancy. When supper was announced, he asked if he might serve her from the buffet table.

  Paul’s hope of talking to Nancy alone as they carried their plates out onto the patio was shattered.

  “Oh, good night,” he said, as they noticed a woman approaching. “Here comes that actress, Sheila Patterson. She’ll take over the conversation!”

  Nancy smiled. When she had met the forty-year-old widow earlier, the girl had found her effusive. The attractive woman had insisted at once that Nancy call her by her first name. Sheila had said she was completely worn out. She was not in a play at the moment but resting at Ivy Hall, an estate she had recently purchased. Nancy recalled it as the overgrown place
she had seen not far from Bradshaw’s.

  Now, reaching Nancy and Paul, Sheila said dramatically, “Nancy, darling, I’ve just learned that you’re simply marvelous at solving mysteries. I have a devastating one for you.”

  Nancy’s eyes widened. “What is it, Sheila?”

  Of medium height and slender build, Sheila had coal-black hair with a dramatic white streak in the front. Her face was youthful, with winged eyebrows that gave her an inquisitive look.

  “It’s about Ivy Hall,” the actress replied. “I adored the place at first, but now it has become horribly spooky. My daughter Annette and I hear ghostly footsteps at night and a peacock has appeared on our lawn several times.”

  “A peacock!” Paul laughed, but Nancy tensed.

  Sheila stopped speaking and shuddered. She leaned close to Nancy and in a strange, tremulous voice said, “Nancy, do you know what bad luck a peacock can bring a person?”

  CHAPTER XI

  Cowboy Luke

  STRANGE noises ... ghostly footsteps ... peacocks! At once Nancy was intrigued by Ivy Hall.

  Recalling that Sheila Patterson had just asked her a question, Nancy answered, “All I’ve ever heard is that it is unlucky to wear a peacock feather.”

  “Let me tell you!” Sheila cried out dramatically. “They bring bad luck—disaster!” The woman buried her face in her hands. “That peacock on my lawn! I know what it means. I’ll never get another part in a play!”

  Although she believed the woman was exaggerating her fear, Nancy felt genuinely sorry for her. She had often met persons who had let superstitions affect their lives, but Nancy was astounded that a person of Sheila’s talent and intelligence could believe such an absurd thing. Taking the actress’s hand, Nancy asked her to sit down and talk it over.

  Paul Staunton had been standing all this time. Now he said, “Perhaps you two would like to be alone. I’ll be back later, Nancy.”

  The young sleuth flashed an appreciative smile, then turned to Sheila. “Please try not to be upset about the mystery at your home. You know, most people believe peacocks bring good luck, not bad luck.”

  “No, I never heard that,” Sheila answered absently, calming down a bit. But she started to twist a lace handkerchief nervously. Looking pleadingly into Nancy’s eyes, she said, “It would give me a lot of hope and confidence if you’d come to Ivy Hall for a few days. Maybe I’m foolish, but until I find out there’s nothing supernatural going on, I must believe that there’s only bad luck in store for me.”

  “I’d like to come,” said Nancy thoughtfully, “but—”

  “Yes?”

  Nancy said she had come south with her friends Bess and George. If she went to Ivy Hall, she would want them to accompany her. Also, since they were Susan’s guests, she must first speak to her cousin.

  “Oh, I intended to ask your two friends to come,” Sheila said warmly, “and I know Susan won’t mind.” She hugged Nancy and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. “You’re a darling—a perfect darling! Come tomorrow. I can’t stand it much longer with just Annette and me there. I’d move out, but I’ve put all my money into the place. The whole thing is dreadful! My nerves are nearly shattered!”

  At that moment Sheila’s daughter, Annette, came up and put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. The girl appeared to be about eighteen years old, had beautiful curly auburn hair, and a turned-up nose. Small-boned, she walked and moved in a quick, elfinlike manner.

  After speaking to Nancy, she said, “Mother, dear, perhaps we’d better go. You’re becoming too excited.”

  “Oh, I’m all right now,” Sheila said, looking at her daughter affectionately. “And what do you think, my love? Nancy Drew and her friends are coming to stay with us and solve our mystery!”

  “We’ll try, anyway,” Nancy said, smiling.

  Annette Patterson looked relieved. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Thanks a million. But I must say, Nancy, you have courage!”

  Nancy told the Pattersons that if Susan had not made plans for them for the next two days, she, Bess, and George would be at Ivy Hall in the morning.

  “Thanks, darling.” Sheila hugged Nancy.

  As soon as the actress and her daughter left, Paul Staunton returned with fresh plates of food, and he and Nancy spent the rest of the evening together. After all the guests had left, the Carrs sat down with their visitors for a chat.

  “The party was super,” said George.

  “Dreamy,” was Bess’s comment.

  Nancy mentioned what a delightful time she had had, also how much she had enjoyed the Carrs’ friends.

  “And they all like you girls,” Susan said. With a chuckle she glanced at Nancy and added, “Particularly Paul Staunton.”

  Nancy blushed. “He’s a lot of fun.”

  “I noticed,” said Cliff, “that Sheila had you cornered. What was all the conversation about?”

  Nancy told the group of Sheila’s invitation, then asked Susan if she would mind their accepting.

  “Go ahead, by all means. But don’t forget Garden Week. We have some dates then, you know.”

  Cliff spoke. “How about Cumberland Manor, Nancy? Have you given up trying to persuade Mr. Honsho to open it for us?”

  “No. As a matter of fact, it’s because there may be a peacock in each place that I’m going to Ivy Hall. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a connection!”

  “That’s right,” Cliff agreed. “Nancy, you amaze me.”

  Susan offered the use of her car, telling Nancy to keep it as long as she wished.

  Bess sighed. “I was almost hoping you’d object,” she said. “Ugh! Ghosts and peacocks!”

  The three girls packed their suitcases before going to bed and were up early the next morning. At ten o’clock, after one of Anna’s special breakfasts, they set off for Ivy Hall. On reaching the entrance to the untended, overgrown grounds, Nancy turned in and drove up to the colonial red-brick house, the sides of which were thickly covered with ivy. It had an impressive front porch with majestic white columns.

  On the steps stood Annette Patterson and a young man. The girl, who was shaking her head vigorously, looked annoyed.

  “Well, what do you know!” Bess exclaimed. “That’s the same ‘cowboy’ we saw at Cumberland Manor—the one who wouldn’t talk to us!”

  Just then the young man jumped on his bicycle and pedaled quickly past them and down the driveway.

  “We’ll ask Annette about him later,” Nancy remarked, as the girls alighted from the car.

  Annette, who was wearing pink shorts and a candy-striped blouse, ran toward the girls with a happy “Hi!” Then, Sheila, similarly attired, hurried from the hall. Being more effusive than her daughter, she planted resounding kisses on the cheeks of her visitors.

  “You are lambs to come!” Sheila cried gaily, hooking one arm into Nancy’s and leading the girls into the house. “Isn’t this a heavenly place?” she asked.

  “Yes, it’s charming,” replied Nancy, admiring the large center hall with its graceful, wide stairway.

  “Let’s take the girls on a tour of inspection, Mother,” Annette said enthusiastically.

  Sheila led the way first into the living room to the left of the hallway, then the dining room on the right. They were sunny and spacious, but draperies and wallpaper were faded and in places badly worn. The chairs and tables were in need of repair.

  “I bought the house furnished,” Sheila said, “and intend to renovate when I can. But for now—” She shrugged, then went on. “Annette and I always lived in hotels until recently.”

  “But never again, I hope!” Annette said fervently. “I love Ivy Hall and never want to leave it.”

  “Unless we’re forced to,” her mother said sadly.

  “I’m sure it won’t come to that,” Nancy said.

  French doors at the end of the living room led to a walnut-paneled library, practically bare of furniture. Bess glanced at its bookless shelves and shuddered inwardly. The room, a dark one, was eerie looking. r />
  Sheila hurried her guests out of it, led them through a modern pantry and kitchen, then out onto a screened porch off the dining room. Here, she said, they spent a great deal of time in mild weather.

  “I would, too,” Nancy commented, glancing at the comfortable lounge chairs.

  Annette pointed out the old slave quarters, a hundred and fifty feet away, now tumble-down and covered with ivy. “That’s where all the cooking was done in the old days,” she explained.

  “How interesting!” Bess murmured.

  Sheila sighed. “The gardens are dreadful, but we have no help. I put every cent we could spare into buying the place, and the upkeep—” She stopped speaking. Apparently a thought she did not want to put into words had come to her.

  “Mother and I are sort of camping out here,” Annette said in her direct way. “Even if we could afford it, I doubt that we could find servants willing to come here. We had one and she spread talk of the house being haunted.” Then she added with a smile, “I hope you girls don’t mind having simple meals.”

  “Oh, we’ll be glad to help,” Bess offered.

  George laughed. “If you make Bess chief cook, you can be sure of always having a real feast.”

  Next, Sheila and Annette showed the girls the rambling second floor of Ivy Hall, with its six bedrooms and two baths. Undoubtedly it, too, had once been very beautiful, but now it needed redecorating. The mahogany woodwork was scarred and the long hall carpet threadbare.

  “This will be your bedroom,” Sheila told the girls, throwing open a paneled door. “It overlooks the old slave quarters.”

  The room was large, its windows adorned with faded but lovely damask draperies. A huge canopied bed and a cot with a flowered quilt stood along one wall. The other furniture was simple.

  After lunch Nancy, Bess, and George unpacked. They spent the rest of the day with Annette, wandering around the estate. Nancy was particularly interested in a closed stairway at the end of the second-floor hall. It led to the attic.

  “It may come in handy to know about this,” she said half-jokingly, winking at George.