The Clue of the Broken Locket

  He led the way to the kitchen and opened a door to a darkened flight of steps leading below.

  “There’s no electricity down there, so take this flashlight with you. Walk straight ahead and you’ll come to the storage room.”

  For an instant Nancy hesitated. Was this some kind of trick? She still did not like Karl Driscoll, despite his apparent friendliness. She wondered again about the strange humming noise which seemed to have come from the house. Then Nancy told herself, “Oh, I guess it will be all right.” She took the light, and Bess followed her down the steep steps. A musty, moldering odor reached them.

  “I wouldn’t want to stay down here long,” Bess remarked. “It’s positively spooky.”

  They walked straight ahead and soon came to a room with a sagging open door. One side was lined with shelves, the other full of hooks. On one of these hung a wall plaque of an iron bird. Nancy beamed the flashlight closely on it.

  “Is this the one?” Bess asked.

  “I doubt it—this doesn’t strike me as very old,” Nancy replied. “In fact, it looks like the one we saw last night in the window of the gift shop.”

  Nancy stood lost in thought. The suspicion crossed her mind that the Driscolls might have “planted” this bird, hoping to fool the girls so that they would take it away, and not come back to the lodge. Nancy played her light over the storage room. At the far end stood a large old-fashioned walnut chest of drawers. Above it she could just make out the outline of another door. Nancy wondered if this were a closed-off exit to the grounds.

  “Let’s go!” Bess urged. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  At the top of the cellar stairway, Mrs. Driscoll stood waiting for them. When Nancy said the iron bird was definitely not the right one, the woman looked disappointed.

  “I’m so sorry. We hoped we had helped you in your search.”

  “Would you mind if we look other places in the house?” Nancy asked her.

  “Why—uh—no,” Mrs. Driscoll answered.

  Nancy said she would like to go out on the roof. “It is just possible I may find some evidence that an iron bird was once used as a cornice,” she explained. Mrs. Driscoll agreed, though a bit reluctantly.

  Bess spoke up. “How about my looking around the outside of the house at the door knockers and so forth? Then I’ll walk back to the cottage and start supper.”

  “All right, but if I get too interested in my search, you’d better drive to town and pick up George and Cecily.”

  Bess nodded and went out the front door, as Mrs. Driscoll led Nancy up the stairs. They walked a short distance down a hallway past several rooms with closed doors until they reached one which the woman opened. It revealed the attic stairs.

  At that moment Nancy heard children’s voices. They were coming from one of the bedrooms.

  “Your children?” she asked Mrs. Driscoll with a smile.

  “Yes.” An instant later the door burst open and identical twins—a boy and a girl about three years old—rushed out. Both were crying.

  “Uncle Vince is mean!” the little girl sobbed.

  “Yes, he is!” the little boy echoed. “We don’t want to play with him!”

  Mrs. Driscoll was annoyed. She grabbed the children and shoved them back into the room.

  “Don’t you dare leave here again!” she said angrily.

  Taking the key from the inside of the door, she slammed it shut and locked it from the outside, pocketing the key. At once the children began to cry and scream loudly while kicking and banging on the door.

  Nancy was appalled at such treatment and barely refrained from protesting. She wondered about the strange girl in the woods. Was she the Driscolls’ nursemaid and where was she?

  Mrs. Driscoll marched back along the hall to the attic stairway and told Nancy to go up. As she herself followed, Mrs. Driscoll explained that as a sideline the brothers had an acrobatic act. Vince was trying to teach the twins to perform and made them practice their stunts over and over again.

  “You know how children are,” Mrs. Driscoll said. “They’d rather just play.”

  Nancy made no comment. She felt that three years of age was pretty young for children to be handled in such a manner.

  In the attic Nancy looked around for the bull’s-eye window but did not see it. There were two regular-shaped windows, both of them too high up to reach. They cast a dim light around the place, which was filled with an assortment of old trunks and boxes.

  Turning, Nancy noticed a closed door, which evidently opened into a third-floor bedroom. That must be where the bull’s-eye window was! She asked Mrs. Driscoll about this.

  “Oh, you noticed that from the outside?” the woman queried. “Yes, that’s where the circular window is. The room is locked. The owner keeps some things stored in there, I guess.”

  She showed Nancy a small door which opened onto a flat section of the roof with a low railing.

  “I think what you have in mind, Miss Drew, is dangerous. But if you insist upon looking around, you can do so from here. As you can see, part of the roof is flat, but part is pretty steep. I warn you to watch your footing!”

  Nancy promised she would do so and stepped outside. Mrs. Driscoll said she would go down stairs now and attend to the children.

  From where she stood Nancy could see the entire lake and all the cottages which faced it. She saw Bess just entering the front door of the cottage.

  “I guess she didn’t find anything,” thought Nancy.

  She looked over as much of the roof as she could see, but there was nothing resembling an iron bird. Spotting a ladder against the chimney, toward the front of the house, Nancy climbed over the railing and carefully made her way down the sloping roof to the ladder. Quickly she climbed it, and holding onto the chimney for support, was able to view the entire layout of the roof. There was not a sign of a decorative bird in any section.

  Nancy thought, “Maybe the bird isn’t a fixed ornament, and Simon Delaroy hid it on the property.” A worrisome thought struck her. What if someone had already located it?

  Nancy climbed down the ladder, and made her way back to the attic door. To her amazement, it would not open.

  “Oh, dear!” Nancy murmured. “I hope it’s not one of those self-locking doors!”

  She tugged and pushed, but the door would not budge. Had it locked automatically—or had the door been bolted from the inside by one of the Driscolls? And if so, what was the reason? The only explanation she could think of was that these mysterious people wanted to keep her out of the house until they had accomplished something about which they did not want her to know.

  Nancy looked off into the distance, wondering if she could possibly signal Bess. But at that same moment she saw her friend come from the cottage, lock it, and then hurry up the path to where the car was parked. The faint sound of a motor came to Nancy’s ears and she knew Bess had set off for the village.

  Nancy tried the door once more with no luck. She began to pound on it loudly. She rapped until her knuckles were sore, but no one came to let her in. Maybe everybody had left the house, she thought.

  Exasperated, Nancy began to cry out, “Help! Help! I’m locked out on the roof!”

  She kept repeating her plea, but if anyone heard it, he had no intention of coming to her aid.

  “I wonder if there’s any way to get to the ground from here except through that door.” Nancy walked toward the lake side of the house. She leaned over the railing and thought she saw what might be a fire escape. Here the roof sloped sharply. A drainpipe led down it to the gutter.

  Nancy decided to lie flat on the roof and edge herself along, holding onto the pipe. If she were right about the fire escape, she could reach it from this angle. Her heart thumping, the young sleuth climbed over the railing and tested the drainpipe. It seemed to be firm.

  Nancy let herself down the roof gingerly, and indeed found what was once a fire escape. But time and weather had loosened it from the wall. She knew it would be too ha
zardous to try climbing down. Besides, there was a ten-foot drop from the end of it to the ground. There was nothing to do but go back to the attic door. “I guess I’ll have to break it down!” Nancy thought wryly.

  When she reached the door, she blinked unbelievingly. It was open a crack!

  “I didn’t just dream it was locked,” Nancy told herself. “Someone was playing a grim joke on me!”

  She hurried down the attic stairs. As she started along the hall Nancy heard quarreling adult voices coming from one of the rooms near that of the twins’.

  The next instant the door opened with a bang and Vince Driscoll stepped out. Seeing Nancy, the burly man seized the girl’s arm roughly. His face was red with rage and fire seemed to leap from his eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  CHAPTER IX

  The Vandal

  INDIGNANT, Nancy shook herself loose from Vince Driscoll’s grasp. At that moment his sister-in-law came from the same room and glared at him. “Karl and I gave Miss Drew and her friends permission to come here and hunt for an iron bird,” she said coldly.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Vince asked sullenly. “I’d have warned you not to. She’s snoopy and a troublemaker.” He turned to Nancy. “Don’t show up here again!”

  Mrs. Driscoll set her jaw firmly. “That’s for Karl to decide, not you.”

  Vince seemed about to retort, but instead kept still and stalked on down the hall. Nancy then told Mrs. Driscoll about having been locked out. The woman said, “Vince didn’t know you were here and went up to the attic. That door to the roof is not supposed to be open so he locked it. After a while I went up to see why you’d been there so long and found out what had happened. Since you weren’t on the balcony I assumed you were somewhere on the roof, and unlocked the door.”

  “I appreciate that,” said Nancy. “I could just picture myself staying out there all night!” She decided to make light of the matter and pretend that she accepted the explanation without question. But she was very suspicious.

  Suddenly she thought of the closed-up room with the bull’s-eye window. Had the Driscolls locked her out deliberately because they themselves had been keeping something—or someone—hidden in it? “And maybe moved out the person or object while I was outside,” Nancy concluded. “It could even have been the red-haired girl. But what’s the reason?”

  Mrs. Driscoll escorted Nancy to the front door and said good-by pleasantly. “It’s too bad the bird in the storage room isn’t the one you’re looking for,” she said. “If we happen to come across another, we’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you,” Nancy said, and started down the road. The Driscoll family puzzled her. She wondered about the brothers’ maintenance business. “They seem to be home a lot,” Nancy thought. “Well, maybe they don’t get many calls.”

  In any case, they certainly did not seem to get along well together!

  “Could it be because of the twins?” Nancy reflected. “But why?”

  She vividly recalled the hard look Karl Driscoll had given her in the general store. She was sure he was not pleased that the girls were living at the lake. “Though why did he go out of his way to be helpful?”

  When Nancy reached the cottage the three girls came out to meet her and she reported her adventure.

  Bess was concerned. “Why, Nancy, you might have slipped off that roof and been killed!”

  Nancy grinned. “I guess I’m just a tough old sleuth,” she answered.

  “It’s a good thing, because you’re in for a surprise,” George stated. “Wait until you see this cottage!”

  As Nancy walked inside, she stared aghast at the scene before her. Tables and chairs had been broken. Every drawer in the place had been emptied of its contents, which were scattered around the floor. Bess had endeavored to put some of the things away before picking up the other two girls. The three had just started working again when Nancy arrived.

  “It’s vandalism!” Cecily said to Nancy. “Oh, who would want to do such a thing?”

  “So far,” said Bess, “we haven’t found anything missing.”

  George nodded. “Some intruders are like that. They get so angry if they can’t find what they’re looking for, they’ll tear a place to pieces.”

  The girls went on straightening up and repairing the furniture as best they could. As they worked, George and Cecily reported that they had gone to Neal Raskin’s office, but he was not there. No one seemed to know where he had gone or when he would return.

  Suddenly Bess said, “I’m starved ! Do you real ize it’s seven o’clock? I never did start supper, what with this mess!”

  The girls stopped working and by seven-thirty were seated around the little table, eating hungrily and chatting over the day’s adventures.

  “They all seem to add up to nothing,” said Cecily, a sad expression in her eyes.

  To cheer her, Nancy suggested taking a ride in the canoe. Cecily eagerly accepted.

  “You two go,” said George. “Bess and I will do the dishes.”

  Nancy and Cecily each took a paddle, and without even consulting each other, they found themselves heading for Pudding Stone Lodge.

  By this time it was late dusk and a mist had begun to rise up from the water. In the foggy area it was thicker than ever.

  “We’d better stay away from there,” said Cecily. “We might get lost.”

  Pudding Stone Lodge was well lighted, and Nancy wondered what was going on inside the house.

  Suddenly the strange humming noise came to the girls’ ears. As before, its source was elusive, seeming to be outdoors, and yet muffled enough to be inside. “It might be some sort of generator in the house,” said Nancy. “But I shouldn’t think we’d notice it from here.” The two girls listened intently but still could not figure out the exact location of the sound.

  Cecily showed signs of apprehension. “We’re pretty close to the place where that phantom boat appeared,” she told Nancy. “Just in case there’s something dangerous about it, don’t you think we should leave?”

  Personally Nancy would have liked to stay, but out of consideration for Cecily, she agreed. They turned the canoe around and began to paddle back toward the cottage. Nancy kept looking over her shoulder, hoping the apparition would appear. Cecily, on the other hand, was wishing just as hard that it would not. The lake remained dark.

  When they reached the cottage dock, Nancy glanced up. She glimpsed a man’s shadowy figure moving off among the trees around the cabin.

  “The prowler!” Nancy thought.

  Nancy dashed after the prowler

  She leaped from the canoe and made a wild dash after the man. But he began running too. There was enough light from the cottage and the rising moon to help Nancy keep track of the fleeing man. But he had too much of a head start and soon she lost sight of him completely.

  “He certainly acted guilty,” Nancy told herself.

  Cecily had beached the canoe and was carrying the paddles to the cottage. Nancy met her. “What in the world made you dash off?” Cecily asked.

  When Nancy explained, Cecily’s eyelids flickered worriedly. She was silent as the two girls went inside. Nancy told Bess and George of her fruitless chase. Cecily kept clasping and unclasping her hands nervously. Nancy was about to try reassuring her when suddenly Satin aroused from a half-sleeping posture, arched his back, and stared into the next room, which was dark.

  “What does he see?” Bess whispered.

  Without warning, the cat shot into the room. There was a slight squeak and in a few seconds Satin emerged triumphantly, a mouse in his mouth! He placed it at Bess’s feet.

  “Oh, how horrible!” Bess cried out. “Take that thing away!”

  Satin, as if he understood, carried the mouse back into the dark room. Unexpectedly Cecily smiled. “He’s having himself a feast, I suppose.”

  George said, “I wish Satin had pounced on that vandal and sunk his teeth into the fellow!”

  The gir
ls laughed, then Cecily lapsed into her unhappy mood. A few minutes later she arose. “I just can’t stand not seeing or talking to Niko any longer! If you’ll drive me to town, I’ll catch the late bus for Baltimore, and maybe see the last part of his performance.”

  She consulted her watch and discovered that it would be nip and tuck as to whether she could make the bus in time. Nancy agreed to try. As Cecily tossed a few things into her suitcase, Bess and George declared that Nancy should not go alone.

  “Your father wouldn’t like it one bit,” said George.

  “We’re going with you,” Bess insisted, “vandal or no vandal.”

  Nancy hugged the cousins. “I’m sure it isn’t necessary, but I love you both for it.”

  Cecily just managed to make the bus and everyone heaved a sigh of relief. Next, Nancy drove to the local police headquarters and went inside. Chief Stovall, a friendly, husky man, was on duty. She introduced herself and gave a quick report on the cottage entry. The chief listened attentively.

  “We have a very limited force here, Miss Drew,” he said. “But we’ll do our best to nab the prowler. Offhand, I can’t think of anyone I’d suspect among our villagers.”

  Nancy’s thoughts flashed to the Driscolls—but she had no proof of her suspicions about them, and said nothing. She mentioned having seen the phantom launch.

  Chief Stovall grinned. “I’ve heard those reports, and I certainly don’t disbelieve you, Miss Drew. I’ve been out to the lake several evenings, for that purpose. But until I see it for myself, there is nothing I can do.”

  “I understand.” Nancy smiled, and said good night. She, Bess, and George returned to the cottage, wondering in what kind of condition they would find it. Fortunately, no one had broken in, and the three friends settled down to read and write letters.

  Satin, too, had curled up by the fire, which was now burning brightly. But suddenly he stood up and stared at the outside door.

  George grinned. “Bess, maybe he’s going to get you another mouse.”