The Haunted Bridge

  There was no opportunity to say more just then because the door opened. Margaret and Mark stood there, smiling. They did not need to announce that their engagement had been renewed.

  “I’ll never be able to repay you for your kindness,” Margaret told Nancy, tears gleaming in her eyes. “Ask any favor—”

  “I have just one. Talk with my father about Mrs. Brownell and her friend, and give him as much information about them as you can remember.”

  Mr. Haley, who had been sleeping soundly, stirred restlessly. Margaret Judson stepped forward to take the man’s hand in her own.

  “Is that you, Miss Margaret?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered softly. “You must try to get well.”

  The man’s eyes roved over her lovely face. “I am so glad you came. But I have failed you. I tried. I could not find the box of jewels.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. The chest has been found so don’t worry any more.”

  With a sigh of relief the man closed his eyes and fell into a restful sleep. While Ned remained at the bedside, Mr. Drew and Nancy led Margaret Judson to the living room.

  “I have no idea what became of Mrs. Brownell,” the young woman reported, “but her friend, Mrs. Cartlett, annoyed me a few days ago at Hemlock Hall. I think perhaps she’s staying there.”

  “Will you try to get in touch with her tomorrow?” Mr. Drew asked.

  “Yes,” the other answered.

  Carson Drew decided to take Margaret Judson into his confidence and explained that he wished to locate the two women in order to set a trap for Mrs. Brownell.

  “If you are able to reach Mrs. Cartlett,” he said, “inform her that you have recovered the jewelry. Tell her to notify her friend that she must meet you at the cabin if she wishes to get back the lost compact.”

  “I’m almost afraid to see Mrs. Brownell alone,” Margaret admitted. “She has a violent temper.”

  “Perhaps I could come here with you,” Nancy suggested. Then as a second thought occurred to her she added, “Oh, I forgot about the tournament tomorrow.”

  Mr. Drew smiled at his daughter. “I believe I can arrange matters for you so your match can be played in the afternoon. The tournament chairman is very reasonable. By the way, Nancy, how’s your hand?”

  “It’s better, Dad. I haven’t felt much pain in it today.”

  A few minutes later Margaret Judson, her fiancé, Nancy, and Mr. Drew prepared to drive to Deer Mountain Hotel. The engaged couple had decided to take rooms there until the mystery was cleared up.

  As Nancy said good-by to Ned, she remarked, “As usual, you seem to be the one who must hold the fort. Hope you’re not too bored.”

  “No chance,” Ned told her. “Besides plenty of excitement, I’ve found some fascinating books here on wildlife.”

  At the hotel Nancy was greeted by her friends with a flood of questions.

  “We were worried sick over you,” said Bess.

  She and the others were introduced and told the amazing turn of events. They congratulated the reunited couple.

  Margaret was able to get a room near Nancy’s. When they reached it, Nancy lingered a few minutes to talk.

  “I don’t wish to be personal,” she began, “but are you well acquainted with a man named Martin Bartescue?”

  “No,” Margaret replied promptly. “I met him on my trip abroad, but I didn’t care for him.”

  “Have you seen him since your return to this country?”

  “Oh, no. He was just a casual acquaintance.”

  Nancy said, “Mr. Bartescue has been staying at this hotel. He pretended to know you well.”

  “Mrs. Brownell knew the man very well,” Margaret said thoughtfully. “It was through her that I met him. Later she told him where I lived. But I did not want to encourage him to contact me and told her so.”

  Nancy remembered the telegram Bartescue had intended for Margaret Judson. “He decided not to send it,” the young detective thought, “because deep down he knew she would not answer.”

  Margaret looked so weary Nancy said good night and went to Bess and George’s room to hear about their evening. The cousins related their adventure with Martin Bartescue.

  “Don’t feel bad about your mistake, George.” Nancy chuckled. “It served him right. He thought he would play a joke on me by asking me to leave a message in one hand of the statue.”

  “I still think Barty must be a crook,” George insisted. “Otherwise, how do you explain his different styles of handwriting?”

  Nancy’s answer surprised Bess and George. “I think he’s just a practical joker. He thinks it’s fun to keep us mystified.”

  “Hm!” said George in disgust.

  In the morning Nancy learned from the tournament chairman that her golf match had been postponed until one o’clock. That left the young people ample time to attend church and for Margaret to telephone Mrs. Brownell’s friend Mrs. Cartlett at Hemlock Hall.

  The conversation between the two was brief. Mrs. Cartlett agreed to come to the cabin in the woods at five o’clock, bringing Mrs. Brownell with her.

  “Everything is working out according to Dad’s plan,” Nancy declared in delight.

  After they had finished eating, the group started for the golf course.

  “I can’t wait for the confrontation at the cabin,” Nancy said to Margaret. “I only hope my golf match won’t keep me from witnessing the grand finale to the mystery.”

  “Oh, it mustn’t!” Margaret exclaimed. “If we have a few minutes to spare on the way to the cabin, Nancy, I’d like to stop at my house and pick up a few clothes. I have nothing at Deer Mountain Hotel, and I’d like to dress up a bit.”

  “For Mark?” Nancy teased.

  “Yes,” the young woman said, blushing.

  “I don’t blame you,” Nancy replied, but she added soberly, “I hope everything turns out as well as we expect.”

  Margaret glanced at her in alarm. “Will I be cleared of the accusation against me?”

  “No doubt about it. We’ll make Mrs. Brownell confess!” Nancy said confidently.

  It occurred to her, however, that if Mrs. Brownell should get the slightest inkling she was under suspicion, the woman would not keep the appointment at Mr. Haley’s cabin.

  Since it was nearly one o’clock, Nancy hurried to meet Betsy Howard on the golf course.

  Coming toward her was Barty, who had just finished his final match. From the dour expression on his face she gathered he had not won the men’s championship.

  “How did you come out in your game?” she asked.

  “I lost,” he snapped. “I blame it on those two friends of yours, too!”

  “What did they have to do with it?”

  “I was so upset by everything that happened last night I couldn’t get a grip on myself. My swing was all off.”

  “That’s too bad,” Nancy replied.

  As she started to walk on, Bartescue attached himself to her, eager to talk.

  “I told your friends I’d explain everything to you and to you only,” he declared. “I was aware all along that you are the famous girl detective Nancy Drew. I made up my mind to match wits with you,” Bartescue went on. “I guess I fooled you too, didn’t I?”

  “For a few days,” Nancy answered. “I admit I suspected you of being a forger.”

  “Because of my handwriting?”

  “Yes, but you changed the style of your signature a bit too often. It became obvious you were trying to confuse me.”

  “Years ago in college I discovered I had the ability to simulate varying styles of handwriting and I’ve had a lot of fun doing it occasionally.”

  “It seems to me like a dangerous pastime,” Nancy remarked. “You may find yourself in trouble with the law.”

  “Oh, I can take care of myself,” Barty chuckled. “Well, young lady, run along since you seem to be in such a hurry. After you win your match, I’ll buy you a 2 B X Gardenia!”

  Laughing heartily at his o
wn joke, he walked on toward the hotel.

  “The conceit of that man!” Nancy muttered. “When I called him he made up that phony 2 B X Gardenia code and there’s nothing to it!”

  Nancy greeted Betsy Howard and walked with her to the fifteenth tee where play was to be resumed. A large crowd of spectators had followed the two players and Nancy’s friends had joined the crowd.

  “Good luck!” George called.

  It was generally conceded that Betsy would win the match and thus the tournament. Being one point ahead with only four holes left to play, she held the advantage. Then, too, because of Nancy’s injured hand, few persons believed she could play her best game.

  Betsy Howard, having won the last hole, held the honor of driving first and sent a long, straight ball flying down the fairway. Undaunted, Nancy teed up and swung her club with all her strength. Since they were nearing the end of the match, she had no intention of babying her injured hand.

  Nancy had struck her ball squarely. To her satisfaction it sailed past the trees and came to rest in the middle of the fairway some yards ahead of Betsy’s drive. A murmur of admiration ran through the crowd.

  As Nancy was leaving the tee, her caddy followed. On a sudden inspiration she asked, “Chris, have you ever caddied for Mr. Bartescue?”

  “Yes, Miss Drew. Why?”

  While she was trying to decide how to find out if the man had ever quizzed the caddy about her interest in the haunted bridge, he replied to her unspoken question.

  “Mr. Bartescue was always asking me where I thought you went. I never told him about the— the scarecrow.” The boy laughed. “All I said was that you seemed interested in Miss Margaret Judson who used to live near here.”

  At that moment the conversation was interrupted by a boy from the hotel. He handed Nancy a sealed letter. Promptly she tore open the envelope.

  A broad smile spread over the girl’s face as she read the message: “Good luck, Nancy. The stage is set for Mrs. Brownell’s arrival.”

  Nancy smiled. Her darling father! He did not overlook a thing. She knew he had been in touch with New York detectives asking that they bring the stolen compact with them. Undoubtedly he was now awaiting their arrival at the airport.

  “Everything is moving along, so there’s nothing for me to worry about except this golf match!” Nancy reflected, studying her next shot.

  She addressed the ball. While the crowd watched in admiration, Nancy made a beautiful drive which her opponent could not equal. She won the hole, squaring the match.

  Betsy Howard, grimly determined not to lose the tournament, wasted no shots on the sixteenth hole, with the result she matched Nancy’s strokes equally. With only two holes to be played, the score still stood even.

  As Nancy prepared to make her first shot from the seventeenth tee, Chris sidled up to her. “Miss Drew,” he said timidly, taking a ball from his pocket, “I don’t know if this is the right time to tell you, but see what I found!”

  “The ball Jimmy Harlow autographed for me! Thanks a lot!” Nancy cried in delight. “Where was it?”

  “Not far from the haunted bridge. It was hidden under some dry leaves. Why don’t you finish the tournament with the autographed ball? It may bring you luck.”

  Nancy crossed her fingers and smiled. “I’d like to use it.” Turning to her opponent she requested permission to change balls.

  “I have no objection,” Betsy assured her.

  Nancy felt confident as she teed up the Jimmy Harlow ball. Had it not led her straight to an absorbing mystery? Could it also help her win the silver trophy?

  CHAPTER XX

  A Day to Remember

  NANCY was so intent on her golf game she hardly noticed the pain in her hand. She became oblivious to the crowd and their comments. She was not aware that her excellent shots were forcing Betsy Howard to “press” and make costly errors.

  After Nancy putted at the seventeenth green she vaguely heard Chris say, “You’re one up, Miss Drew! Halve this hole and the women’s championship is yours!”

  Nancy played the eighteenth in true championship style, every shot straight and true. Betsy, in a desperate attempt to win, had tried too hard. She had sent her ball into a sand trap, costing her an extra point. Nancy’s ball already rested about ten yards from the cup.

  After Betsy chipped her ball onto the green, she was eight feet from the hole. Nancy putted her ball with care and confidence. It rolled so swiftly that a little gasp of horror went up from the crowd. Many thought it would end at the far side of the green. But the ball had been tapped accurately and it dropped into the cup.

  Betsy Howard stood perfectly still for a moment. Then she putted her own ball, missed, and tried again. This time it dropped, but already the match was lost. She reached out and grasped Nancy’s hand.

  “Congratulations, my dear. You played a beautiful game.”

  The crowd cheered, and friends rushed forward to praise Nancy. She smiled happily and thanked them. Then she was led in triumph to the hotel and received the handsome silver trophy for the women’s championship.

  “We knew you’d do it!” Bess cried gaily. “Oh, Nancy, you were marvelous!”

  “Your score today was sixty-nine,” George added proudly. “It sets a new record for women at the Deer Mountain course. And you were the youngest one in the tournament, too!”

  Nancy grinned, then whispered, “Will you do me a favor?” George and Bess nodded.

  “Please put this trophy in my room. I’d like to get to the cabin before Mrs. Brownell arrives.”

  “Margaret decided to leave before you,” Bess told her. “She thought you wouldn’t mind. Your father wanted her to be at the cabin early.”

  As Nancy hastened alone toward the woods she could not help reflecting that it was a pity Mrs. Brownell chose to live by dishonest means. She caught herself wondering about the child’s picture in the jeweled compact. Who was she?

  Nancy’s thoughts were interrupted as she approached the bridge. Moaning and groaning filled the air, louder than ever, and the scarecrow danced wildly in the wind.

  Nancy stopped in the middle of the bridge and gazed up into the tossing treetops, listening carefully. Suddenly she gave a little smile, and with a nod of satisfaction, hurried on.

  She made her way quietly along the familiar path to the cabin. Hearing no voices within, she opened the door. Carson Drew sprang to his feet, then laughed in relief as he saw that the caller was his daughter.

  “I thought for a moment Mrs. Brownell had caught me napping. Did you win the game?”

  “Yes. Did you get the compact?” Nancy asked.

  Mr. Drew nodded. “I’ve given it to Margaret Judson. The detectives who brought it are hidden outside with the federal agents. In fact, there are men stationed all along the roads from her hotel. Should Mrs. Brownell decide not to come here or try to flee from us after being accused of the theft, she’ll find every avenue of escape cut off.”

  “You’re convinced of her guilt, Dad?”

  “Yes. New York authorities now have evidence which I think will convict her. We want Margaret Judson’s positive identification, however.”

  The young woman was with Mr. Haley, but at the lawyer’s suggestion she came to the living room and sat down by a window. The others secreted themselves in a closet.

  Fifteen minutes elapsed, and both Nancy and her father were growing weary of their cramped quarters. Suddenly they heard Margaret say in an excited undertone:

  “Mrs. Brownell is coming now. And Mrs. Cartlett’s with her!”

  Margaret opened the cabin door to admit the two women. They glanced about quickly. Then, apparently satisfied that no trap had been set for them, addressed Miss Judson.

  “I am in a great hurry,” Mrs. Brownell said. “My friend tells me you have recovered the jeweled compact.”

  “I have it here,” Margaret replied, “but I must be certain that it belongs to you.” She handed over the case for her inspection.

  “Yes, it??
?s mine.”

  “You’re quite sure?”

  “Of course, I am,” Mrs. Brownell retorted impatiently. “See, I’ll show you.” She opened the lid, displaying the picture. “This is a photo of my little girl, only it has been ruined.”

  Carson Drew and Nancy emerged from the closet and confronted the two startled women.

  “Your identification is very interesting, Mrs. Brownell,” the lawyer said evenly, “for that compact is stolen property.”

  “What do you mean?” she gasped, backing away.

  “The jeweled case no doubt was given to you by a member of a notorious smuggling ring,” the lawyer said quietly, “as a reward for your past services in selling stolen jewelry for them.”

  Mrs. Brownell stared hard at Mr. Drew and knew that his words were no idle bluff. She suddenly darted toward the door. But the lawyer, prepared for such a move, caught her firmly by the wrists. Simultaneously two federal agents appeared in the doorway to block Mrs. Cartlett’s escape.

  After Mrs. Brownell had been informed of her constitutional rights, Mr. Drew urged her to tell the truth. “If you turn state’s evidence your prison term probably will be lighter.”

  “It’s true—the compact is stolen property,” the accused woman admitted after a long moment of silence. “I didn’t mean to steal nor to have dealings with thieves, but I met a very pleasant man who induced me to help him. At first I thought it was honest work, and I accepted this jeweled compact in payment.

  “Later on I was rewarded with other rich presents, including another valuable compact to replace the one I lost. I put another picture of my daughter in it.” She paused before adding, “By the time I suspected the truth there was no retreating. Many times I tried to break away from the gang, but it was impossible.”

  “What are the names of these persons with whom you have been dealing?”

  Mrs. Brownell’s eyes roved accusingly toward her companion.

  “You can’t drag me into this!” the other woman cried out.

  Carson Drew looked at her intently. “As soon as I heard Miss Judson’s story and learned your name and where you were staying, I contacted the authorities in New York. Your past record is known. Our case against you is very damaging, even without Mrs. Brownell’s testimony.”