The Crooked Banister

  Bess asked if she too had agreed to help an Indian child.

  “Yes, I did,” Mrs. Carrier replied. “A darling little girl. Mr. Mead said she will write to me after she receives my donation.”

  Once more Nancy and George looked at each other. They were still suspicious about Mr. Mead’s project. However, if Mrs. Carrier did receive a letter, perhaps it would prove that their doubts were unfounded.

  Nancy finally spoke up. “Mrs. Carrier, did you make out a check to Mr. Mead to be forwarded to the Indians?”

  “Why yes. Don’t you think that was all right?”

  Bess answered, “Of course it was. You know, Mrs. Carrier, Nancy and George didn’t like Mr. Mead from the moment they met him and I’m afraid they don’t quite trust him.”

  Bess wore a smug expression, mixed with a smile.

  George remarked, “Frankly we didn’t. I certainly hope, Mrs. Carrier, that your money will get to the Indian child and not go into Mr. Mead’s pocket.”

  “What do you mean?” the woman cried out in alarm.

  George gave a candid answer. “The letters from the Indian children could be fakes.”

  “Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Carrier exclaimed. “I never thought of that. I see what you mean. This Mr. Mead could have a partner in Arizona who sends these letters whenever he’s requested to.”

  “Exactly,” George replied.

  Nancy turned the conversation to Rawley’s house. “I can hardly wait to investigate that wall with the serpent picture.”

  “But, girls, please don’t go there by yourselves,” Mrs. Carrier requested. “I finally found a man who is willing to guard the place. He’ll patrol the grounds.

  “But this won’t make it any safer indoors. I don’t want you falling through any more trap doors or getting locked in towers or having that robot attack you again.”

  Nancy was disappointed. She must figure out a way to get into the house without disregarding Mrs. Carrier’s request.

  The doorbell rang and Mrs. Carrier went to answer it. She returned shortly, followed by her brother Thomas and a couple. She introduced them to the girls as Mr. and Mrs. Jacques.

  “You may speak freely in front of these young ladies,” Mrs. Carrier went on. “They are trying to help us find my brother Rawley.”

  Mrs. Jacques stared at the girls. She had a hard, unpleasant face. Her flashy clothes and hairdo were not in good taste.

  “I was never so humiliated in all my life!” she said. “We were actually turned away from the Mountain Ridge Country Club after my husband had paid a lot of money to get in!”

  “I don’t understand,” Mrs. Carrier said.

  Mr. Jacques, a thin, sharp-eyed man with a small mustache and a tiny goatee, took up the story.

  “Your brother Rawley offered to get us membership in the club. Knowing your family’s fine reputation in the neighborhood, my wife and I had no idea the whole thing would turn out to be a fraud.”

  “A fraud!” Mrs. Carrier cried out.

  “That’s what I said—a fraud,” Mr. Jacques told her. His face was becoming red with anger. “Your brother Rawley swindled us out of a good bit of money and I am determined to get it back!”

  Thomas interrupted. “Suppose you tell my sister and the girls exactly what happened.”

  Mr. Jacques said, “We knew there was a long waiting list, but your brother approached us, saying he could get us membership right away. He wouldn’t explain how he was going to do it, but we assumed of course it was family influence.”

  His wife, looking disdainfully at everyone, added, “Rawley Banister gave us an application to fill out. He told us it would be necessary to pay an initiation fee in advance and also a good-sized bonus in order to put our names ahead of everyone else’s.”

  Nancy spoke up. “Were you ever given a membership card?”

  “Oh yes,” Mrs. Jacques replied. “Then one evening, when there was going to be a dance at the club, we got dressed up and went there. The man at the door did not recognize us and asked to see our membership card. My husband showed it to him.”

  “Then what happened?” George asked eagerly.

  Mr. Jacques said he and his wife had been asked to sit down in the hallway. “The president of the club came out. When he saw our membership card, he told us it was a fake. Of course I became angry, so he pulled his own card from a pocket. It was totally different from the one I held.”

  Mrs. Jacques burst out, “It was positively insulting the way we were treated. We had to stay in the hall until the chairman of the membership committee came out. He had never heard of us, and our names had never been brought up at any meetings. We were politely but firmly asked to leave.”

  Mrs. Carrier was blushing in embarrassment. She was speechless as Mr. Jacques went on to tell that he had threatened to sue the club.

  “And I’m not sure I won’t still do that very thing,” he added.

  At first Nancy had felt sorry for the couple. But now her sympathy vanished. These people had tried to push their way into the club and had even paid a bonus for the privilege!

  She said quietly, “Mr. Jacques, are you sure you have a case? The country club didn’t swindle you.”

  “But Rawley Banister is a club member,” the man retorted. He stood up. “Come on, Millie,” he said to his wife. “I thought these people would have enough family pride to pay us their brother’s debt, but I can see they don’t.”

  Mrs. Carrier said, “Rawley will be home soon, I’m sure. We’ll see that he contacts you.”

  Both Mr. and Mrs. Jacques laughed sarcastically and the man said, “You’ll never see that crooked brother of yours again! I’m sure he’s skipped out for good!”

  With that the irate man stomped from the living room, followed by his wife. The couple hurried out the front door and drove away. Tears came into Mrs. Carrier’s eyes and Thomas looked very sober.

  Nancy tried to cheer them up by saying, “The Jacques didn’t give us any proof that they had paid out a nickel. Please don’t worry. In the meantime, let me call my father. He can advise us.”

  “Please do that,” Mrs. Carrier said.

  Mr. Drew was delighted to hear from Nancy since he had news for her too. “But first, tell me why you called.”

  When he heard about the Jacques being swindled out of membership in the country club, he said that Mrs. Carrier and her brother Thomas had nothing to worry about. The Jacques could sue neither them nor the country club. They had been the victims of a con man and if they ever got their money back they would be lucky.

  “Mrs. Carrier and Thomas feel pretty bad about Rawley’s actions. And now, tell me your news.”

  The lawyer said he too had been trying to trace Rawley Banister. “I finally had some luck. I learned that he recently purchased a hig’ powered cruiser in Miami.”

  “That’s great news!” Nancy exclaimed “Where is he now?”

  Mr. Drew said that unfortunately nobody knew. “Rawley took off for parts unknown. But every port along the Atlantic Coast, including those in the Caribbean Islands, has been alerted. If he shows up, which he’ll have to do to buy fuel, he’ll be arrested.”

  “That’s a terrific lead!” said Nancy.

  She told her father about having seen pictures of the center hall of Rawley’s house before the new wall had been put up. The lawyer was amazed.

  “Dad,” she said, “I strongly suspect something of value is hidden behind that wall. Mrs. Carrier doesn’t want us girls to be in the house alone. Do you think you could possibly come up here for a little while and do some investigating with us?”

  “Certainly,” her father replied. He chuckled. “Will tomorrow morning be soon enough?”

  “Oh, Dad, you’re the greatest!”

  “Okay, I’ll drive up to the motel and have breakfast with you girls.”

  Nancy went back to the living room and reported what her father had said. Mrs. Carrier and Thomas were amazed to hear about Rawley. They were glad to learn that Mr. Drew was co
ming to Mountainville the next day.

  “I’d like to go out to Rawley’s house with you,” Mrs. Carrier said eagerly.

  “We’ll pick you up at ten o’clock,” Nancy promised. “How about you, Thomas? Would you like to come?”

  “Sorry, but I have a business appointment.”

  Mrs. Carrier invited the girls to stay for dinner. Shortly after nine o’clock they returned to the motel. There was a letter in the girls’ mailbox. As the clerk handed it to Nancy, he remarked, “As you see, there’s no stamp or return name or address on this. I found it lying on the counter.”

  Nancy took the envelope and stared at it. Her name had been typed on.

  The girls hurried to their room. When they were inside, Nancy tore open the envelope.

  The contents had also been typed and were brief.

  The note said:

  Hunt for the Skeleton’s Bracelet

  CHAPTER XIII

  Strange Portraits

  “O-OH, how creepy!” Bess exclaimed as she reread the mysterious note. “ ‘Hunt for the Skeleton’s Bracelet!’ ”

  Nancy and George were equally amazed and agreed with Bess that it sounded pretty gruesome. Nancy held up the sheet of paper and the envelope to the light, hoping to find watermarks or other clues to the sender.

  “There are none,” she reported.

  “Do you suppose,” George said, “that this could be a joke of some kind?”

  “How could it be?” Bess asked.

  George said there were many people around who knew that Nancy Drew was an amateur detective. “Somebody could have figured it would be funny to send her a message like this.”

  The cousins asked Nancy what she thought.

  “I’m inclined to think there is real meaning in the note,” she replied. “Pranksters usually sign their notes with some funny name. In this case it could have been Old Bones.” The other girls laughed.

  Bess asked, “But where would the skeleton or the bracelet be?”

  “I have a strong hunch,” Nancy replied, “that the answer is in Rawley Banister’s house.”

  George suggested, “Perhaps the bracelet is hidden behind that new wall.”

  Nancy went to the phone. “I’m going to call Mrs. Carrier and see if she can give us a clue.”

  The woman was as mystified as Nancy. “But I don’t think the note is a hoax,” she said. “A skeleton’s bracelet sounds exactly like what my brother might have purchased at some time and hidden away.”

  “Have you any idea who might have written the note?” Nancy asked.

  “No, but I doubt that it was Rawley. According to your father, he’s far away from here.”

  After Nancy had said good-by, the girls continued to talk about the mysterious piece of jewelry.

  “Maybe,” Bess suggested, “we’ll find a skeleton with a priceless bracelet dangling from his or her wrist.”

  George grinned. “I’ll bet the bracelet was stolen from the arm of a person deceased in ancient times. A queen, maybe.”

  Nancy began to undress. “Listen, girls, if you don’t stop talking about such morbid things, you’re likely to have bad dreams and not sleep well. We want to be alert for tomorrow’s sleuthing in Rawley’s house.”

  The girls began talking of more pleasant subjects. Half an hour later all of them were sound asleep. None had a bad dream.

  The following morning when they entered the motel restaurant for breakfast Mr. Drew was waiting for them. Nancy rushed over to kiss him, followed by Bess and George.

  After they had given the waitress their orders, Mr. Drew said, “I hope you all had a good night with no scares or no new mysteries popping up.”

  The girls grinned and George said, “You wouldn’t expect Nancy to go that many hours without stumbling upon a new mystery, would you?”

  Mr. Drew looked at his daughter. “Now what’s up?”

  Nancy pulled the strange note from her handbag and gave it to him.

  “Hm!” he said. “This is certainly something different. Nancy, I suppose you have the mystery half solved by now. What’s your theory about the note?”

  She laughed and told him Bess’s guess that in Rawley’s house they would find a hidden skeleton wearing a jeweled bracelet.

  Mr. Drew grinned at Bess but admitted that it was possible. “I imagine what you have in mind is the area behind that new wall in the hall.” Bess nodded.

  Nancy asked her father his opinion of the anonymous note.

  He answered, “Anonymous notes are usually the work of cowards. There are times, particularly during a war or a tight dictatorship, when anonymous notes are written to protect the life of the sender. But what we sometimes call crank letters, or warning notes, are sent without a signature because the writer is too cowardly to voice his opinion openly.”

  Shortly before ten o’clock the foursome set off in Nancy’s car. They called for Mrs. Carrier, then drove directly to Rawley’s house.

  As they pulled into the parking area near the moat, Bess exclaimed, “Nancy, the bridge is in place again! I hope it stays there.”

  An idea for the group’s safety occurred to Nancy and she said, “I think we had better carry those saplings to the other side of the bridge in case it should suddenly disappear again.”

  “A sound idea,” her father agreed. “It’s evident a mischief-maker other than Rawley is involved in some of the things going on here. If Rawley is off in the Caribbean on his fast cruiser, he couldn’t possibly have made this bridge vanish and reappear.”

  “Or have left the mysterious note at the motel,” his daughter added.

  “Maybe it’s that man we saw running away from here the other night,” George suggested.

  Nancy nodded. “And who can he be? Rawley’s ruled out—that’s definite.”

  Mr. Drew and the girls retrieved the saplings from their hiding place and transported them across the bridge. On the other side they were met by the guard, who asked why they were carrying the young trees. Mrs. Carrier explained.

  “I see,” the guard said. “The bridge was in place when I arrived this morning.” He introduced himself as Les Morton. “If you folks are going to be here a while, I’d like to take off a little time. Okay if I’m back in an hour?”

  “That will be all right,” Mrs. Carrier answered. She looked at the saplings. “Do you suppose they’ll be safe here? I’d hate to have anyone take them and leave us stranded.”

  “I’ll show you where to hide them,” the guard said. “Around back there’s a pile of brush. How about putting the saplings under it?”

  He helped carry the young trees to the spot, then left. The others went into the house.

  “Where shall we start?” Bess asked.

  Mr. Drew walked up the crooked staircase to look around. Nancy said she was going to concentrate on the banister and glanced at the snapshot the carpenter had given her. Then, holding up the sawed-off piece of banister and newel, she found that it would have reached about two feet inside the mysterious wall. Next she went into the living room and studied the bookcase which reached from the ceiling to the floor.

  “Got a clue?” George queried.

  “I think so,” Nancy replied. “This bookcase is rounded. Perhaps it swivels. By taking down the original wall and putting up the new one, there was room for this piece to revolve.”

  George gave the bookcase a yank but it did not budge. “There must be a hidden spring,” she said.

  Nancy was already examining the wall on either side but could find no button, lever, or secret panel.

  As she stood looking thoughtfully into space, George remarked, “I guess we’re stymied.”

  Bess, who had been scanning the many volumes in the twelve-foot-wide bookcase, commented, “Rawley must have been a great reader.”

  “He was,” his sister agreed. “But he leaned toward bizarre subjects.”

  Suddenly Bess gave a little squeal. “Here’s a book that might be a clue to something!”

  Taking it out, sh
e held up the volume which told about the anatomy of the human body. The cover displayed a skeleton.

  “But he isn’t wearing a bracelet,” George commented.

  Nancy went to the spot from which Bess had taken the book. She removed several volumes near it and looked intently at the board in back of the shelf.

  “I think I see something!” she said excitedly.

  “What is it?” asked Mrs. Carrier.

  Nancy was pushing a secret panel aside. Beyond she could faintly see balance weights. Gingerly she touched one of them.

  Almost instantly the bookcase began to revolve.

  Mrs. Carrier and the girls jumped back and waited to see what was on the other side. To their utter astonishment there were no bookshelves. Instead, on the rounded wall hung more than a dozen gold-framed portraits.

  “All the faces have been blacked out!” Bess exclaimed, staring at the oil paintings.

  Mrs. Carrier gave a cry of dismay. At the same time the girls noticed that there were nameplates on the paintings. Some portraits were of men, others of women, but all were named Banister.

  “How weird!” Bess murmured, shrinking back from the damaged portraits. “Why would anybody want to do such a thing?”

  “I can answer that,” Mrs. Carrier replied. “My brother Rawley hated those relatives. But how mean of him to destroy their lovely faces! The Banisters were very handsome and intelligent-looking.”

  Meanwhile Mr. Drew had been examining the new wall from top to bottom. He went back to the second floor to make an experiment. He had found a slight crack between the wall and the ceiling above and now shoved a twenty-five-cent piece through it. He listened intently to detect a thud but just at this moment the exclamations from the living room drowned out any other sound.

  Mr. Drew rushed down the crooked staircase and dashed into the living room. He stopped short and gazed in astonishment at the sight before him.

  “What a find!” he exclaimed. “But why would anyone mar the paintings in that way?”

  Again Mrs. Carrier spoke of her brother’s hatred for those members of the family.

  Mr. Drew looked at the portraits closely. “Nancy, do you think there might be a clue under the blotted-out faces?”