A Cry in the Night
When the loud, piercing cry echoed through the old stone house, Nancy
Drew instinctively clutched the bedclothing about her neck as though by
so doing she could protect herself from an unseen danger. An instant she
waited, but the cry was not repeated. There was not a sound to be heard
anywhere in the house.
Then, with determination, Nancy sprang from the bed and slipped quickly
into her dressing gown and put on her bedroom slippers. Reaching under
her pillow, she was relieved to find the revolver and flashlight where
she had left them.
The stars were no longer shining and the room was so dark that she could
not see a foot ahead of her. Switching on the flashlight, she made her
way to the door and gave it a pull. It did not open.
“Am I locked in?” Nancy thought in horror.
In her haste and excitement, she had forgotten that she had fastened the
door herself. As she remembered, she turned the key in the lock and
jerked open the door.
Stepping out into the corridor, she flashed her light about in all
directions. There was no one in sight.
Then the door at the end of the hall opened and Floretta half-stumbled,
half-fell into the corridor. As she saw the flashlight, she let out a
low cry of fright.
“Be quiet!” Nancy warned.
“Oh, I thought it was the ghost!” Floretta chattered. “Did you hear that
terrible scream?”
“Yes, I heard it. Where is Miss Rosemary? See if she is all right.”
“Oh, if Rosemary has been murdered——”
She broke off as Rosemary came out of her room. She, too, was badly
frightened, but she was able to maintain a certain amount of composure.
The two sisters huddled together near Nancy. Although nearly thirty
years older than the girl, they seemed to look to her for protection.
“The cry came from the floor below, or at least that’s the way it
sounded to me,” Nancy whispered. “We must go down there and find out
what has happened.”
“Go down there?” Floretta wailed. “Never!”
“Sh!” Nancy warned. “Not so loud. We don’t know what danger we are
facing.”
“We’ll be murdered if we go down there,” Floretta maintained in a
slightly lower tone.
“I have a revolver.”
“I can’t go.”
“Then you stay here,” Rosemary said brusquely, to hide the tremble in
her own voice. “If you’re going downstairs, I’ll go with you, Nancy.”
“And leave me here all alone?” Floretta asked desperately.
“Then come along,” Rosemary told her curtly.
Flashlight in hand, Nancy Drew had already started to move toward the
steps. Rosemary followed, and Floretta, not to be left alone, brought up
the rear.
On the stairway, the three huddled together while Nancy flashed her
light about the hall below them. Everything was in perfect order and
there was no sign of an intruder.
“It was a ghost! I know it was!” Floretta whispered.
“Be quiet!” Rosemary warned.
Nancy led the way on down the circular stairs. At every step the old
boards creaked alarmingly underfoot.
“We’re certainly heralding our approach all right,” Nancy thought
grimly. “I hope someone doesn’t take a shot at us!”
This fear she did not communicate to the Turnbull sisters, for she knew
that it would take but little to throw them into a frenzy of fright.
Reaching the drawing room, she fumbled about and finally located an oil
lamp which she lighted. A survey of the room revealed nothing amiss.
Everything seemed in its place, and the trio moved on toward the sun
parlor.
“The silver!” Floretta exclaimed suddenly. “Do you suppose it is
missing?”
The same thought had just occurred to Nancy, and, turning quickly, she
hurried toward the dining room. Floretta and Rosemary followed at a more
cautious pace.
The buffet where the silver was kept was locked. Rosemary removed the
key from a near-by vase and, fitting it into the lock, opened the door.
“Nothing is missing,” she declared, after she had finished counting the
silver.
“I don’t believe the cry came from this room, anyway,” Nancy said
thoughtfully. “It seemed to me that it was directly under my bedroom.”
“Then the cry must have come from the library,” Rosemary announced.
“I thought it seemed to come from that direction, too,” Floretta
murmured. “It was the most blood-curdling yell I ever heard. Like
someone in distress.”
“Shall we search the library?” Nancy interrupted.
“Lead the way,” Rosemary told her grimly.
With revolver held ready for instant use, Nancy Drew started in the
direction of the library. The Turnbull sisters, who still huddled
together, kept close behind her. Scarcely had they taken a dozen steps
when Floretta paused and looked anxiously back over her shoulder.
“What was that?” she whispered fearfully.
“What?” Nancy asked impatiently, turning around. “I didn’t hear
anything.”
“I thought I heard footsteps behind me,” Floretta murmured nervously.
“You must have been mistaken,” Rosemary said firmly. “I heard nothing.”
Nancy was certain that Floretta’s nerves were getting the best of her,
but nevertheless, to make sure that they were not being followed, she
paused and strained her ears to catch a sound. She could hear nothing.
“You must have been mistaken,” she said quietly, again moving on.
In the face of danger, Nancy Drew was cool and collected, but even for
her it was a nerve-wracking experience to move through the dimly lighted
old mansion, uncertain as to what lay just ahead. At any moment they
might be walking into a trap.
She opened the library door cautiously, half-expecting something to
spring out and pounce upon her. As she flashed her light about the room
she was relieved to see that everything was in order. But was it?
Her eye rested upon a ladder-back chair which had been pushed up against
the bookcase. Surely, Rosemary and Floretta would not have left it that
way, for they were both excellent housekeepers and meticulous about
details.
Rosemary’s eyes had fallen upon the same chair.
“Someone has been in here!” she exclaimed.
Her eyes slowly traveled upward to the top of the bookcase. She gave a
little scream.
“My silver urn! It’s gone! Someone has stolen my urn!”