Nancy Leads the Way
The old colored woman advanced threateningly, her face convulsed with
rage.
“You git, white man!” she ordered, “or I’ll fill yo’ system full of
lead.”
Somewhat sheepishly, the sheriff retreated. He dared not reach for his
own revolver which hung in its holster, lest the colored woman carry out
her threat. As he backed away, the negress slammed the door and locked
it.
“I reckon we’ll have to take the place by storm,” the sheriff muttered
to his companions. “She’s locked the door. We’ll have to ram it.”
“And while we’re doing it, she’ll pepper us with shot,” one of the
deputies observed.
“I reckon you’re right, at that,” the sheriff said slowly. “I guess we’d
better fire a volley through the door.”
“We haven’t any call to kill the woman,” a deputy argued. “And a stray
shot might hit her. We don’t want to do that.”
“That’s so. Anyone have an idea how we can get into the house?”
“I have,” Nancy Drew announced quickly. “I know of a secret passage
which leads from the Turnbull mansion to an upstairs room of this house.
Give me two men, and the rest stay here to keep watch. We’ll get into
the house through the passage and take her by surprise.”
“That’s an idea,” the sheriff murmured. “I’ll go with you myself.” He
indicated one of the deputies. “You come along too. The rest of you boys
stay here.”
“And make a little racket every so often to hold the attention of the
old colored woman,” Nancy suggested.
“When we get into the kitchen I’ll blow my police whistle,” the sheriff
added. “When you hear it, rush up from below.”
The sheriff and the deputy assigned to the venture, followed Nancy Drew
from the cellar. They crept past the kitchen window and hurried toward
the police car. There was no time for Nancy to stop to explain matters
to Rosemary and Floretta. They sat huddled in the roadster where she had
left them a few minutes before.
“They’ll be safe enough so long as they stay in the car,” the sheriff
said, as the three ran across the courtyard and sprang into the police
car. “That colored woman isn’t likely to make trouble unless she’s
bothered.”
The sheriff took the wheel.
“Drive to the Turnbull mansion,” Nancy directed.
The police car sped rapidly down the road and up another and came to an
abrupt halt in front of The Mansion. Nancy tried the front door. To her
relief, she found it unlocked. In their haste to reach the sheriff’s
office, the Turnbull sisters had neglected to fasten the doors and
windows.
Nancy opened the door and led the way to the library. Quickly lifting
the cover of the sofa, she disclosed the hidden opening. Deftly, she
lowered herself into it. The sheriff and deputy stared after her in
astonishment.
“Well, what do you know about that!” the sheriff exclaimed.
“We’re going through a secret passage,” Nancy explained hastily.
“Hurry!” she called impatiently. “There’s no time to lose!”
Hesitating only a moment longer, the sheriff and the deputy likewise
lowered themselves through the opening into the hidden staircase.
“You know where you’re going?” the sheriff questioned doubtfully.
“Yes,” Nancy returned. “Watch these stairs, or you may take a tumble.”
As her eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, she moved rapidly
down the staircase, warning the two behind her of treacherous steps.
At last she reached the lower level and paused before what appeared to
be a solid wall.
“Now what?” the sheriff demanded.
Nancy did not respond, but ran her hand over the wall in search of the
tiny knob which would open the panel. She found it, and as she pushed
firmly upon it, a portion of the wall swung back.
“Come on,” she urged, stepping through the opening.
The sheriff and his deputy followed. They turned and looked back
uneasily as the panel grated shut behind them.
“What if we are locked in here?” the sheriff questioned.
“We shan’t be,” Nancy told him quietly. “I know the secret.”
The three rapidly descended the flight of stone steps and entered the
tunnel which led directly to the bird room of Nathan Gombet’s house.
Reaching the stone steps at the end of the passage, she paused only long
enough to warn the two officers that they were now within the house and
must remain silent. Quickly ascending the stone steps, she groped about
the walls, searching for the hidden spring which would open the panel.
“Look for a brass ring or a tiny knob,” she directed the two men.
Even as she whispered the instruction, her hand struck a solid object on
the wall. Eagerly, she felt of it and discovered it was a small metal
ring.
“I’ve found it!” she whispered in delight.
She gave the ring a hard pull, and, to the amazement of the sheriff and
his deputy, the secret panel opened.
Nancy stepped out into the light and motioned for the two men to follow.
She now stood in the closet of the bird room. Cautiously opening the
closet door, she peered out.
“The coast is clear,” she informed her companions quietly. “Follow me.”
Softly, she tiptoed across the room and tried the door leading into the
corridor. It was unlocked. Treading quietly down the hall, she led the
way to the stairs.
Reaching the lower floor, Nancy Drew and the officers crept toward the
kitchen where the belligerent old colored servant had taken up her post.
The sheriff listened for a moment at the inner door of the kitchen and
peered through the keyhole. The old woman had not relinquished the gun,
but stood before the basement door making vehement threats.
“I’s waitin’ fo’ you,” she muttered. “You just make one pass t’rough dat
doah and I’s gwine lose control o’ mah trigger finger. I’ll fill you so
full o’ buckshot dat you’ll look like a sieve, and I don’t mean
possibly.”
Satisfied that the old negress was occupied at the basement door, the
sheriff quickly stepped into the room and covered her with his pistol.
“You’re under arrest!” he said sharply.
The colored woman turned suddenly and gazed into the muzzle of the
sheriff’s gun. She hesitated an instant as if debating whether it would
be wise to attempt resistance, then threw up her hands in surrender. The
shotgun clattered to the floor.
Nancy Drew, who by this time had rushed into the room, ran to the
basement door and unlocked it. As the sheriff gave one short blast on
his police whistle, the deputies who had been left stationed below burst
into the kitchen. One of them caught up the shotgun from the floor and
placed it out of reach. Another quickly slipped handcuffs on the woman’s
wrists.
“Now that we have her, what are we going to do with her?” the sheriff
asked bluntly.
Nancy turned toward him.
“Sheriff, may I question the prisoner?”
“Go ahead; but I’m afraid you’ll not get much out of her.”
“I’ll try, anyway,” Nancy said, smiling. She faced the negress and
demanded:
“Where is Nathan Gombet?”
“How come you asks me? I ain’t keepin’ track o’ dat man just ’cause I
works heah.”
“You’re not fooling anyone,” Nancy replied sharply. “I know that you are
not only Nathan Gombet’s servant but his partner in crime as well.”
The woman assumed an innocent expression.
“How you talk! Crime? What you mean crime? I’s just an old culled woman
who makes her victuals workin’! You can’t bluff me with yo’ scary talk.”
“I’m not bluffing. It will be the best for you to tell us where he is.
If you don’t, you’ll be behind bars within an hour.”
“Fo’ doin’ what?”
“For resisting an officer. Isn’t that true, sheriff?”
“Yes, I reckon it is,” the sheriff returned. “The woman has laid herself
open to imprisonment by trying to thwart justice.”
“Now will you tell?” Nancy looked straight into the old negress’ eyes as
she asked the question.
For a moment the woman met her gaze defiantly and then a frightened look
came over her face and she began to whine.
“I’ll tell! I’ll tell! Don’t send me to no jail!” she implored. “Please,
Mr. Sheriff!”
“Then, if you don’t want to go to jail, tell us where Nathan Gombet is
hiding.”
The colored woman eyed the girl sullenly for an instant, and then
pointed to the floor above.
“Up dar!” she mumbled. “He’s up dar with de prisoner.”
“Prisoner!” Nancy exclaimed, giving the sheriff a quick glance. “What
prisoner?”
The colored woman stubbornly shook her head.
“We’ll find out who you mean,” Nancy declared. She turned to the sheriff
with decision. “We must capture Nathan Gombet before he escapes. If he’s
upstairs he may have heard us and try to get away through the secret
passage!”
“He’ll not get away,” the sheriff assured her grimly.
Delegating one man to remain below to guard the colored woman, he
ordered the other deputies to follow him. Nancy, who could not bear to
remain behind, crept up the stairs after them.
At the top landing the party paused, undecided which way to go. As they
hesitated, the sound of a harsh, rasping voice reached their ears.
“Listen!” Nancy commanded in a tense whisper.
Instantly, she recognized the voice. It belonged to Nathan Gombet!
As she listened intently, the man began to speak again and she caught
the words distinctly.
“I give you just one minute, Carson Drew! If you don’t sign that paper
before then I’ll——”
Nancy did not hear the rest of the threat, for Nathan’s voice had
dropped to a lower pitch. What could it mean? Had Nathan held her father
a prisoner in the house? She turned frightened eyes toward the sheriff.
“They’re in that room,” she whispered, pointing to the chamber in which
her father was imprisoned.
The sheriff nodded, and with his pistol held ready for instant use,
moved softly toward the room. Quick as he was, Nancy was ahead of him.
Without a thought for her own safety, now that she knew her father was
in danger, she flung open the door.
At a glance she took in the situation. Her father, haggard and pale with
suffering, was bound to a chair and Nathan Gombet, a taunting grin on
his evil face, was bending over him.
“If you don’t sign this paper, you’ll never get out of here!” he
snarled.
At the sound of the opening door, the miser wheeled about and saw Nancy
Drew. As he instinctively retreated, she advanced.
“The police will have something to say to you!” she said tensely.
As Nancy Drew spoke, the sheriff and his men closed in around Nathan
Gombet.
“Your game’s up,” the sheriff announced covering the miser with his
pistol.