The Ghost Calls Again
Nancy Drew said good-bye to Abigail Rowen and, after promising to call
again soon, left the cottage with Rosemary Turnbull.
“It’s nice of you to offer to take me to The Mansion,” Rosemary
remarked, as she stepped into the blue roadster. “I came by bus you
know, and it’s a slow, tiresome ride that way. Floretta will be
delighted to see me back home earlier than I had planned.”
“Is your sister inclined to be nervous?”
“Oh, yes. The slightest thing sets her off. She wouldn’t stay at The
Mansion alone at night for anything in the world.”
“I don’t wonder she is nervous. So many strange things have happened
there.”
“Floretta is certain The Mansion is haunted. I keep telling myself I
don’t believe in ghosts, and I don’t—but those shadows!” Rosemary
shuddered. “There’s something uncanny about it.”
From the general conversation Nancy Drew had gathered that Rosemary
Turnbull was not the type of woman to be easily frightened. She was
eager to visit the old stone house, for she felt that she had
encountered a genuine mystery.
“Have you told anyone about the strange happenings?” she inquired
presently.
Rosemary shook her head.
“Only the sheriff, and he just sniffed. Seemed to think someone was
playing a joke on us. To-day I told Abigail Rowen, but otherwise I
haven’t mentioned it to a soul. You see, I thought that if we should
want to sell, the rumor that the house was haunted wouldn’t help the
sale.”
“Hardly,” Nancy replied. “But you don’t wish to sell, do you?”
“Only as a last resort.”
Nancy drove rapidly, for the hour was late and she feared that unless
she hurried she would not reach her home before dark. When at last she
did reach Cliffwood it was nearly dusk.
Rosemary directed her to The Mansion, which was located in an isolated
spot on the outskirts of Cliffwood. Through the tall oak and maple trees
which partially hid the house from the road, Nancy Drew caught her first
glimpse of the place. She was a little startled, for with its two large
turrets at the front, the Turnbull residence was not unlike a ruined
castle.
It was a large, massive structure, built of white stone which, with the
passing of the decades, had blackened and crumbled. Undoubtedly, in
years gone by it had deserved the title of “mansion,” but now it could
boast little of its old glory. With the ebb of the Turnbull fortune, the
house had fallen into decay.
As Nancy drove up the winding driveway she could not help but notice the
ghostlike shadows which the trees, swaying in the breeze, cast on the
stone walls. A feeling of uneasiness came over her, a sensation which
she was at a loss to explain.
“There’s something creepy about the place,” she thought. “As Miss
Rosemary said, it’s a perfect habitat for a ghost.”
Nancy was not superstitious and certainly she did not believe in ghosts,
but it seemed to her that the very air about the old place was
oppressive. Perhaps Rosemary Turnbull had experienced the same
sensation, for she turned her eyes toward the second story.
“I don’t see a light in Floretta’s room,” she observed. “I do hope
nothing has happened while I have been away.”
Nancy stopped the roadster in front of the house and Rosemary alighted.
“You’re coming in, aren’t you?” she inquired hopefully.
Nancy hesitated.
“I intended to, but it’s growing so late. I promised father I’d be home
before dark.”
“It’s only a short way to River Heights from here. Floretta will be
disappointed if you don’t come in for a few minutes at least. I want you
to hear her version of the mystery.”
“I am eager to hear it, too,” Nancy declared, switching off the motor.
“All right, I’ll come in even if it is late. Dad will forgive me this
time.”
Rosemary fitted her latchkey into the lock and opened the heavy front
door.
“We’ve thought it best to keep the house locked the last few weeks,” she
explained.
As Nancy Drew stepped inside she noticed that the entire house had the
appearance of having been built in more opulent times than the present.
The rooms were spacious, especially the living room which was furnished
with old-fashioned Colonial furniture. The walls were adorned with
massive, gold-framed portraits, obviously of ancestors of the Turnbull
line.
As Nancy gazed at the pictures she realized that once the Turnbulls had
been the leading family in Cliffwood. They had been a proud family, but
with Rosemary and Floretta the line would die out. Little remained of a
fortune which had once been large. Rosemary and Floretta, while not
poor, had an income only sufficient for their needs. Yet because they
were the last of the Turnbulls, they were welcome in the best of
society.
“My great great grandfather,” Rosemary commented, indicating one of the
pictures which had attracted Nancy’s interest. “He fought in the
Revolution. I am sure if he were living to-day no ghost would dare
invade The Mansion,” and Rosemary smiled slightly.
Nancy did not reply, for at that moment an elderly lady came hurrying
down the stairway to the living room. In appearance she closely
resembled Rosemary, though she lacked her sister’s firm chin. Nancy knew
at once that it was Floretta. She saw, too, that something had disturbed
the woman, for she was so agitated that she failed to note the presence
of a visitor.
“Oh, Rosemary,” she burst out, “why did you leave me here alone? I knew
something terrible would happen!”
“Floretta, you—you haven’t seen anything?” Rosemary demanded shakily.
“It’s my diamond bar pin! It’s gone!”
“Oh, Floretta, are you sure? Perhaps you misplaced it.”
“No, it’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere. Oh, what shall I do? I can’t
bear to lose it!” Floretta turned and saw Nancy for the first time. She
made a valiant attempt to compose herself. “I beg your pardon,” she said
somewhat stiffly.
Rosemary introduced Nancy Drew and explained that the young girl had
offered to help solve the baffling mystery.
“You’ve come just in time,” Floretta declared. “Oh, if only you can tell
me what became of my bar pin! It was an heirloom. We’ve had it in the
family for years.”
“When did you have it last?” Nancy asked quietly.
“Only this afternoon. I was dressing in my room and was just completing
my toilet when I heard the iceman at the back door. I dropped my bar pin
on the dresser and hurried downstairs to let him into the kitchen.”
“Were you gone long?” Nancy interrupted.
“Only a few minutes. Not more than ten at the most. When I came back my
pin was gone!”
“Are you certain it didn’t drop to the floor, or perhaps fall behind the
dresser?”
“Oh, I’ve looked everywhere!” Floretta sank into a chair and buried her
head in her hands. “I’m just sick about it. I wouldn’t have lost it for
anything in the world.”
Rosemary went to her sister and tried to comfort her.
“We’ll find the pin, Floretta. I’m sure it will turn up somewhere.”
She spoke with confidence but nevertheless turned uneasy eyes upon
Nancy.
“Perhaps a bird flew in at an open window and took the pin,” Nancy
suggested.
“Oh, I’m sure that couldn’t have happened,” Floretta insisted. “But if
you’d like to see the room I’ll be glad to show it to you.”
She led the way up the narrow circular stairs and Nancy and Rosemary
followed. Floretta’s room was in the east wing.
“Is this the top floor?” Nancy questioned.
“The attic is above,” Rosemary responded. She attempted to smile.
“There’s no ghost up there, though. I know, because I looked myself.”
Floretta’s room was small. Nancy noticed that it had only one door which
opened into the hall. There were two windows, both screened.
“I left the pin right here,” Floretta said, indicating the dressing
table. “A bird couldn’t have taken it.”
“I see now,” Nancy said quietly.
She crossed the room and examined the screens carefully. Apparently they
had not been touched, for an accumulation of dust was undisturbed.
“I know someone entered my room while I was talking with the iceman,”
Floretta declared firmly. “Oh, I don’t want to stay in this horrible
house another night!”
“It’s apparent no one entered by means of the windows,” Nancy said
quietly. “Tell me, from where you stood in the kitchen could you see the
stairway?”
“Why, I could have if I had looked, I suppose. The kitchen door was
open.”
“You saw no one go up the stairs?”
“Not a soul. But someone might have entered the house when I had my back
turned.”
“Weren’t the doors locked?”
“Yes, I had forgotten that.”
“And if anyone had gone up those stairs wouldn’t you have heard them?”
“I think I would have,” Floretta admitted. “The stairs are old and they
creak.”
“Then how did the thief get in?” Rosemary cried. “Floretta’s bar pin
couldn’t have walked off by itself!”
“I wish I could tell you what became of the pin, but I can’t,” Nancy
said regretfully. “I’m as puzzled as you are.”
As she spoke she turned and for the first time noticed a closet door.
Was it possible that the thief had entered the house early in the day
and had hidden in the closet, biding an opportune time to snatch the
pin?
Floretta divined Nancy’s thought and a look of horror came over her
face.
“Oh, you don’t suppose someone has been spying upon us?” she demanded
fearfully. “I never once thought of that closet! What if there’s someone
in there now?”
Rosemary laughed nervously.
“Don’t be silly, Floretta.”
However, she eyed the closet door with misgiving and made no effort to
investigate.
“Just to make sure there’s no one inside I’ll have a look,” Nancy
remarked.
She crossed the room and paused before the closet door. Hesitating only
an instant, she jerked it open.