AT LILAC INN
As Nancy Drew drove slowly back toward River Heights she tried to
persuade herself that her fears concerning the Crandall jewels were
groundless. She did not fully succeed in doing this.
In fact, at the very moment she said good-bye to Emily Crandall,
startling events were taking place only a few miles away. Had Nancy
Drew been at Lilac Inn she would have seen a handsome coupé swing up to
the door from which two elegantly dressed women alighted. Nancy would
have recognized Mrs. Jane Willoughby and her friend, Mrs. Clara Potter.
As the two women stepped from the car Mrs. Willoughby cast a quick
glance about and nervously clutched a handbag which she carried. Mrs.
Potter kept close at her side.
"Do you think it was wise to stop here for luncheon?" Mrs. Potter asked
in a low tone. "We can't take any chances, carrying all that precious
jewelry."
"Hush!" her companion commanded sharply. "No one must know I have it!"
The two women walked swiftly up the path to Lilac Inn and entered the
dining room. As the hour was early the room was but half filled and
the ladies were led at once to a table by a window. As the two seated
themselves, many of the diners turned to stare curiously, for it was
obvious from the nervous manner in which Mrs. Willoughby clutched her
handbag, that she was carrying something valuable. Mrs. Willoughby,
innocently unaware that she had given herself away, placed the handbag
on the table and sighed in relief as she unfastened her wrap.
"I'm sure no one suspects that we are carrying valuables, Clara.
However, I shall feel very much relieved when I have Emily's receipt
for what I am carrying."
"Mercy, but it's warm in here--or perhaps it's the excitement. Don't
you think we should have a window open?"
"By all means, Clara." Mrs. Willoughby motioned to a waiter. "We would
like this window raised," she told him.
The waiter glanced curiously at the large handbag which rested upon
the table, for the clasp was ornate, set rather lavishly with stones,
and with a polite bow opened the window. He then took the order and
departed.
"Did you notice the way he looked at that purse?" Mrs. Willoughby
whispered.
"Yes, I did. But he couldn't know what was in it, I'm sure."
"Just the same, I almost wish we hadn't stopped here. This place is
beginning to give me the creeps."
"I know just how you feel, Jane. I have the same sensation myself--just
as if someone were listening to our conversation."
Mrs. Willoughby laughed nervously.
"Aren't we silly, Clara? The other diners aren't paying a particle of
attention to us."
"That woman over in the corner seems to be watching us, Jane. The one
with the piercing black eyes. I don't like her looks."
Mrs. Willoughby glanced quickly toward the woman indicated and nodded
in agreement.
"She does seem to be especially interested in what we are doing,
doesn't she? But of course she can't know that we are carrying
valuables. We haven't told a soul."
"I suppose we're just nervous. Of course she can't know that the jewels
are in the handbag. After all, the bag is a beauty and well worth
looking at, and it is oversize for ordinary use. Well, here comes the
waiter with our luncheon. We can eat quickly and get away."
As the waiter placed the steaming dishes upon the table, Mrs.
Willoughby watched him closely. She decided that she did not like the
way he kept looking at her handbag. Finally, he brought the salad, and
before Mrs. Willoughby could stop him he lifted the purse to make room
for the plates.
"Don't touch that!" she said sharply.
Mrs. Willoughby had not intended that her voice should carry, but to
her embarrassment several diners glanced at her curiously.
"I beg your pardon, madam," the waiter said politely, giving her a
quick look.
"Oh, I see," Mrs. Willoughby murmured apologetically as she saw that
the waiter had merely intended to move the purse to a more convenient
place on the table. "That's all right."
The waiter returned to the kitchen with his tray and Mrs. Willoughby
and her friend exchanged anxious glances.
"He must have felt how heavy it was when he lifted it, Clara!"
"Yes. But I feel sure the help at Lilac Inn is reliable," Mrs. Potter
said comfortingly. "The management would have to be careful, you know,
in order to maintain the excellent reputation of the place."
"Probably you are right. But I shall keep my eye on that handbag every
minute."
"Yes, it doesn't pay to be careless."
Conversation lagged as the two women turned their attention to
luncheon. They were both eager to get away from Lilac Inn, though
neither was willing to admit her growing nervousness. At last, to their
relief, the waiter appeared with dessert and coffee.
Mrs. Willoughby had scarcely touched a spoon to her orange ice when a
woman who was sitting on the opposite side of the room gave a little
scream of fright.
Instantly every eye turned her way. Mrs. Willoughby's spoon clattered
against the plate. Mrs. Potter sprang to her feet and she too gave a
cry of alarm.
"Look at those two automobiles!"
"Someone is going to be killed!"
It was all over in an instant. To the horror-stricken diners there came
the sound of a terrific crash. Two automobiles had collided at the
crossroads.
Chairs were hastily pushed back and everyone rushed to the doors and
windows. For several minutes everything was in confusion. In her haste
to see what had happened, Mrs. Willoughby upset a glass of water. Even
the waiters dropped their trays and ran to the door.
"I saw it all!" Mrs. Potter cried. "I'm sure someone must have been
killed! The cars came together with terrific force!"
"Oh, how dreadful!" Mrs. Willoughby moaned. "Why will people insist
upon speeding?"
"Send for a doctor and an ambulance!" Mrs. Potter cried.
Several men rushed from the dining room and hurried toward the scene
of the accident. One of the waiters sprang to a telephone and quickly
called the nearest doctor. The room was abuzz with excited conversation.
"It was their own fault," someone declared emphatically. "I saw it all
from this window. Both cars were going at terrific speed."
"Oh, I hope no one was killed," Mrs. Willoughby murmured anxiously.
For a few minutes it seemed that everyone talked at once, relating what
each had witnessed. The commotion died down as the manager of the tea
room, an elderly, pleasant-faced woman, came up the path.
"It's all right," she informed the diners. "Fortunately, no one was
seriously injured. Both cars were completely wrecked."
"What a relief," Mrs. Willoughby sighed, as she turned away from the
window.
Nearly all of the diners went back to their tables and Mrs. Willoughby
and her companion among them. As Mrs. Potter sank down into her chair,
her eyes swept the table in amazement.
"Oh, Jane!" she cried in alarm. "Your bag! You picked it up, didn't
you?"
Mrs. Willoughby rushed to the table, her face expressing genuine horror.
"No, I thought you did!"
"I didn't touch the bag. When I heard that terrible crash I forgot all
about it."
"It must be here somewhere. Look under the table."
[Illustration: "IT MUST BE HERE SOMEWHERE--LOOK UNDER THE TABLE."]
Mrs. Potter jerked up the table cloth, but there was no sign of the
handbag on the floor.
"It isn't here, Jane."
With a low moan, Mrs. Willoughby sank into a chair.
"Oh, what shall I do?" she wailed. "Someone has stolen it! Emily's
inheritance!"
"I can't believe it!" cried Mrs. Potter frantically. "The purse must
be here! But perhaps you dropped it in your chair," she suggested
hopefully.
"No, I've looked there. And it isn't on the floor. Oh, what shall I do?"
"Are you sure it didn't drop behind the table? Here, let me pull it
out."
Mrs. Potter grasped the edge of the table as she spoke and pulled it
away from the window. The missing handbag was not revealed!