LEFT TO STARVE
When the sound of the footsteps had died away, Nancy Drew was overcome
with panic. A feeling of desperation came over her. She realized that
the robber had dared to carry out his ugly threat. He had locked her in
the closet and had left her there to starve.
At first Nancy was too frightened to think logically. She beat
frantically upon the door with her fists, but the heavy oak panels did
not give.
"Help! Help!" she screamed.
At last, exhausted by her efforts to force the door open, she fell down
upon the floor, a dejected, crushed little figure.
"Maybe those men will come back later and let me out," she tried to
encourage herself. "Surely, they can't be so heartless as to leave me
here to starve."
But even as the thought came to her, she heard the muffled roar of a
heavy truck as it passed the Topham bungalow on the way to the road.
With a feeling of utter hopelessness, Nancy heard the van depart. She
knew for a certainty the cruel, hardened rascals were indifferent to
her plight. They had abandoned her to a horrible fate.
The house was as silent as a tomb. Although Nancy had little hope that
there was anyone within miles of the cottage, she again raised her
voice and shouted for help. Her cries echoed through the empty house
and seemed to mock her.
"Oh, why didn't I have sense enough to tell Helen Corning where I was
going!" she thought miserably. "She believed I was starting for home.
The girls will never dream that I came here."
And her father thought that she intended to remain at the camp for a
week! He would not become alarmed over her absence until it was too
late. Oh, if only she had never left her home in River Heights!
"Someone may find my roadster at the side of the road," Nancy reasoned,
"but it isn't very likely. Few persons pass this way so late in the
season."
What had become of Jeff Tucker, the caretaker? Certainly she could
expect no aid from that quarter. The robber had hinted that he had
done away with the old colored man, and, knowing the character of the
rascals, it was impossible not to believe the worst.
As the full significance of the situation dawned upon the girl, panic
again took possession of her. In a desperate attempt to break down the
door, she threw her weight against it again and again. She pounded upon
the panels until her fingers were bruised and bleeding.
At last she sank down on the floor to rest and tried to force herself
to reason calmly.
"I'm only wasting my strength this way. I must try to think logically.
If I don't, I'm lost."
Nancy Drew recalled that she had once read that it was possible to pick
a lock with a hair-pin. Feeling in her hair, she found a heavy wire one
and began to work at the lock. But in the darkness she could not see
and she made little progress. After fifteen minutes she gave the task
up in disgust.
"It's no use," she decided miserably. "I'm afraid I'll never get out."
She began to think of her father, of Helen Corning, and other dear
friends. Would she ever see them again? As despondency claimed Nancy
she was dangerously near tears. Resolutely, she tried to shake off the
mood.
"This will never do," she told herself sternly. "Surely, there is a way
to get out of here. I must keep my head and try to think of something."
After a time, as a new idea occurred to the girl, she began to rummage
about in the closet, hoping that by some lucky chance she might find
a tool which would help her force the lock of the door. She searched
carefully through the pockets of every garment which hung from the
hooks. She groped over every inch of the floor.
She found nothing of value, and the cloud of dust which was stirred
up made breathing more difficult than before. The closet had become
uncomfortably warm by this time.
Then unexpectedly, Nancy's head struck something hard. Quickly
investigating, she discovered a narrow wooden rod suspended overhead.
Evidently it had once been used for dress and coat hangers as it was
fastened to either wall and ran the length of the closet.
"If I could get that rod down, I might be able to use it to break out a
panel of the door," Nancy thought hopefully. "It feels strong and it's
about the right size."
She tugged at the rod with all her might. To her satisfaction, one side
gave. Another hard jerk brought the rod down on her head.
To her bitter disappointment, Nancy found as she examined the rod that
it was too long to use as a ram. But after a little experimentation,
she discovered that she could press it into service as a wedge.
Inserting it in the crack between the hinges, she threw all of her
weight against the rod. At first the door did not budge.
"Archimedes didn't know what he was talking about when he said the
world could be moved with a lever," Nancy murmured. "I'd like to see
him move this door!"
As she applied steady pressure to the rod a second time, she saw that
the hinges were beginning to give. Encouraged, she applied more force.
"It's coming!" she cried.
Once more she threw her weight against the rod. A hinge tore from the
casing and the door sagged. It was now easy to insert the wedge, and
Nancy knew that success would soon be hers.
Then, just as another hinge gave way, she was startled to hear
footsteps. Someone came running into the bedroom, and a heavy body
hurled itself against the door of the closet.
The unexpected action stunned Nancy. Could it be that one of the
robbers had heard the noise she had made and had returned to make sure
that she did not escape? She discarded the theory as quickly as it came
to her. The robbers were far too wise to tarry, once their disgraceful
work had been accomplished. Then, too, she had heard their moving van
leave.
Frantically, Nancy rattled the door knob.
"Oh, you is a caged lion, dis time," a rather unsteady voice remarked.
"You is one o' dese tough robber boys, is you? Well, you won't do no
mo' pilferrin', 'cause I done got you surrounded."
"Let me out!" Nancy pleaded. "I'm not a robber!"
The sound of a feminine voice coming from the closet nonplussed the man.
"Say, robber boy, is you imitatin' a lady's voice to th'o' me off
de scent? If you is, it won't do no good 'cause I's a natural-born,
two-legged blood houn'."
Nancy thought of a way to convince him. She let go her longest and
loudest feminine scream.
"Dat's enough! Hold yo' siren! I'll let yo' out. Dar ain't a man in de
world could make a racket like dat! Dis way out, lady!"
Expectantly, Nancy waited, but the door did not open.
"My Lawdy!" she heard to her horror. "I's done gone and misplaced de
key!"