An Unfruitful Search
Nancy Drew’s presence in The Mansion had a wholesome effect upon the
Turnbull sisters, for soon after her arrival they became more cheerful.
Floretta announced that she felt a great deal better and insisted upon
getting up and dressing. To the surprise of her sister she appeared most
cheerful when she came downstairs for luncheon.
“Tell me, does this house have any particular history?” Nancy
questioned, as the three sat at the table.
“Oh, yes, indeed,” Rosemary responded proudly. “It was built in the
early days when stone houses were out of the ordinary. Of course The
Mansion has been remodeled many times, but the original walls still
stand. The property has never passed from the Turnbull family.”
“To your knowledge there are no secret panels or trapdoors in the
house?”
“I know of none. However, Floretta and I never were interested in such
things until recently, and I’ll admit we haven’t gone over the house
carefully. It’s possible something like that was built-in when the house
was remodeled in Civil War times. As a protective measure, you know.”
“Then, if you have no objection, I believe I’ll have a look around and
see if I can locate anything unusual.”
“Certainly,” Rosemary assured her. “You’re free to do anything you like,
and we’ll help you all we can. Where will you start?”
“I may as well begin in the attic and work down.”
“If you go up there you’ll need candles. It’s very dark. You see, we’ve
never had the house wired for electricity.”
Rosemary hurried to the kitchen, and returned in a few minutes with half
a dozen large tallow candles. Before concentrating her attention upon
the attic, Nancy made a preliminary survey of the entire mansion.
The house consisted of fifteen large rooms. On the first floor, in
addition to the kitchen, butler’s pantry, and dining room, there was a
drawing room, a library, a sun parlor and a reception hall. Directly
beneath the first floor was the basement, which had been broken up into
storerooms.
The second floor was devoted to bedchambers. Rosemary explained that one
wing of the house had been shut off for years, and this portion of the
house at once aroused Nancy’s interest. However, a casual survey of the
rooms reveal nothing which would indicate that anyone had visited them
in the last six years. A thick accumulation of dust was undisturbed.
“We’ll try the attic first,” Nancy decided. “Later, I’ll go over these
other rooms more carefully.”
[Illustration: Single file, Nancy and the two ladies trudged up the
narrow stairs leading to the attic.]
Single file, Nancy and the two ladies trudged up the narrow stairs
leading to the attic. As Nancy opened a door at the head of the stairs,
a gust of wind struck her candle and extinguished the flame. Quickly
lighting it, she stepped into the attic.
She glanced about curiously, flashing the light into every nook and
corner. The attic appeared little different from others Nancy had
visited. It was filled with pieces of discarded furniture. A tall
highboy stood in one corner, a broken rocking chair in another, and
boxes were piled everywhere.
Systematically, Nancy poked into the boxes and went over the walls inch
by inch. The latter had a hollow sound, but she was unable to find a
spring which would open a panel. If the walls guarded a secret, they
guarded it well.
“I guess there’s nothing here,” Nancy admitted after she had spent
nearly an hour in the attic.
She was reluctant to leave, for although she had unearthed nothing, she
could not help but feel that she had overlooked something of vital
importance.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t find anything,” Rosemary commented, as she
turned toward the stairs. “Now where?”
“Shall we try the basement?”
The three made their way cautiously down the stairs to the first floor
and from there to the kitchen. As they descended into the dark cellar,
an unpleasant musty odor assailed their nostrils.
A few minutes search convinced Nancy that the basement was not worth
bothering about. The floors and walls had been covered with cement and
offered no possibility of a trapdoor. However, before returning to the
first floor, she looked carefully about in the storerooms to make
certain that no one was hiding there.
“Well, our search wasn’t very well rewarded,” Nancy admitted, after the
three had returned to the kitchen. “But I’m not ready to give up yet. I
intend to have another look to-morrow.”
The investigation of the attic and the basement had taken the better
part of the afternoon, and already shadows were beginning to lurk in the
nooks and crannies. With the approach of night the house seemed to take
on a more formidable atmosphere.
Dinner at The Mansion was rather a strained, formal affair. Rosemary and
Nancy made an attempt to keep up a conversation, but without much
success. There was a tenseness in the air which everyone felt.
After dinner the three adjourned to the drawing room. Rosemary sat down
at the piano and tried to play, but Nancy noticed that her hands
trembled. After a time, she gave it up.
Floretta was even less composed than her sister. She sat rigidly on the
sofa, with hands tightly clasped. Involuntarily, her eyes roved about
the room as though she were looking for someone.
“What an odd piece of furniture,” Nancy commented in an attempt to start
a conversation.
“Which piece do you mean?” Rosemary questioned.
“The sofa. I never saw one like it.”
“I don’t wonder. It’s built in.”
“Built in? How odd. I’ve seen built-in bookcases and window seats, but I
never heard of a built-in sofa.”
“It was our great grandfather’s idea,” Floretta explained. “I never
could see any sense in it myself. I’d much rather have a sofa that could
be moved about.”
At nine o’clock, Nancy announced that she would retire, and in obvious
relief Floretta and Rosemary arose to follow her example.
“Don’t forget to lock your door,” Rosemary warned her guest, as she said
good night at the head of the stairs. “And if anything should
happen—scream. We’ll hear you.”
As soon as she was alone in her bedchamber, Nancy Drew locked the door.
Then she made a hasty examination of the closet. There was nothing
inside. She looked under the bed.
“There’s nothing like caution,” she assured herself. “I don’t believe a
ghost will get in here very easily, but just the same I’ll be prepared.”
Unlocking her traveling bag she removed the revolver her father had
given her and a flashlight she had thoughtfully included as part of her
emergency equipment. Carefully loading the revolver, she placed it under
her pillow.
“There!” she exclaimed, with satisfaction. “Any ghost that comes
prowling about is apt to meet with a warm reception!”
With that, she sprang into bed. She did not intend to fall asleep at
once, but before she knew it, she had dozed off. When she awoke the sun
was streaming in the bedroom window.
With a start, Nancy Drew opened her eyes and glanced about the room. So
far as she could tell everything was exactly as she had left it.
Hurriedly dressing, she went downstairs. Rosemary and Floretta were
there ahead of her, and breakfast was nearly ready.
“Did you sleep well?” Rosemary asked her.
“Like a log.”
“I scarcely shut my eyes all night.”
“But surely nothing happened to alarm you?” she asked.
“No, I didn’t hear a sound.”
After breakfast Nancy once more began the task of investigating the
walls of the various rooms in the hope of discovering a sliding panel.
She spent the morning going over the downstairs rooms. She tapped the
walls with a small hammer and even looked behind the heavy pictures.
“I’m certain there must be a secret opening in this house somewhere,”
she told herself. “But it doesn’t look as though I am going to find it
very easily.”
In the afternoon she devoted her attention to the bedrooms, but without
success. That night she again slept with the revolver under her pillow.
The next day was a repetition of the one that had gone before. Nancy
began to wonder if there really was a mystery connected with the old
house.
“Can it be that Rosemary and Floretta only imagine strange things that
have been happening?” she asked herself.
That night when she retired, she was half inclined not to place the
revolver under her pillow as usual, for it seemed a rather unnecessary
precaution. Upon second thought, however, she decided it would be wise
not to take a chance.
After climbing into bed and blowing out the light, she did not fall
asleep at once. The window curtains were up, permitting the moonlight to
stream in, and for some time Nancy watched the shadows of the trees
dance on the white walls of the room.
“I wonder if those shadows were the ones Rosemary and Floretta saw?” she
thought.
After about half an hour she dozed off, but she did not sleep soundly.
She awoke in the middle of the night and found that she could not go
back to slumber.
“What is the matter with me?” she asked herself. “I feel just as if
something were about to happen!”
The house was as quiet as a tomb. Yet there was something about the
silence which was ominous.
“This will never do,” Nancy chided herself severely, as she felt a cold
chill creeping over her.
Resolutely, she closed her eyes, but sleep would not come. She tried the
time-worn device of counting the sheep, but in vain. It was as though a
faculty over which she had no control had elected to maintain a vigil.
Restlessly, Nancy Drew tossed about.
Then, just as she was sinking into a light sleep, she was aroused
rudely. What was it that had awakened her? She sat up in bed and tried
to pierce the darkness.
Then she heard a noise which seemed to come from the floor below. There
was a dull thud and then a blood-curdling yell! After that—silence.