(#15) The Haunted Bridge (14 page)

“I realize that now, but at the time I was panic-stricken. I ran away and lived for a while in Chicago.”

“Running away was the worst thing you could have done,” Ned remarked.

“I was so upset I acted impulsively. All along I kept hoping Joe Haley would find the jewel chest. It had to be somewhere in the woods. So much time has passed now, that of course there’s no hope of finding it.”

“Don’t give up yet,” Nancy remarked, but the young woman did not seem to hear her.

“Mrs. Brownell has never stopped bothering me since the compact was lost,” Margaret Judson went on. “While she has never come to me herself, she has sent a friend.”

“A friend?” Nancy inquired.

“Another woman, who follows me wherever I go. She keeps pressing me for money and threatening that unless I pay she will expose me to my friends and to the police.”

“Margaret, I think your troubles are nearly over,” Nancy said kindly. “Your jewel box has been found.”

“What!” The young woman trembled with eagerness. “Did Joe Haley find it?”

“No, it came into my possession by accident,” Nancy explained. “Tell me, what was the little chest made of?”

“Carved brass, and the design was very beautifuL It’s hard to describe, but—I can draw it.”

Margaret Judson made a rough sketch that convinced Nancy the chest she had found in the ravine did indeed belong to the young woman.

“Did it contain the missing compact?” Margaret asked anxiously.

“Yes, and the diamond ring you mentioned. I think everything that was in the chest the night of the fire is still there.”

“Oh, Nancy, how can I ever thank you?”

Smiling, Nancy suggested, “Perhaps you’d like to go to the cabin now. Mr. Haley would be happy to see you again.”

As the car sped along the road toward Deer Mountain, Nancy answered the young woman’s questions concerning the discovery.

Margaret knit her brow. “Could I have dropped it on the bank of the stream when I crossed the bridge that terrible night? I have no recollection of anything I did.”

“It’s possible the chest slipped from the bundle of clothing you put it in,” Nancy agreed. “I found it buried deep in the mud.”

Ned parked the car at the side of the road. The three walked along the trail to the cabin. From a distance they could see lights glimmering through the trees. As they approached closer they heard men’s voices.

Nancy assumed that her father was talking with Mr. Haley, and she felt elated to think that the patient was gaining steadily in strength.

The sound of footsteps brought Carson Drew to the door. As he flung it open, Nancy glanced inside and saw that her father had a visitor. She looked at Margaret Judson.

Directly behind Mr. Drew stood Mark Wardell!

Margaret did not see her former fiancé until after she had entered the lighted cabin. Their eyes met in a surprised stare. Neither spoke.

An awkward silence followed. Even Nancy could think of nothing to say or do at such a critical moment.

CHAPTER XIX

A Match of Wits

AT last Mark Wardell took a step toward his former fiancée.

“Margaret,” he murmured.

“Mark,” she replied and with a little sob threw herself into his arms. “I’ve missed you so very much.”

Mr. Drew, Nancy, and Ned decided that the happy reunion should be private. They slipped quietly into Mr. Haley’s bedroom and closed the door.

“If Margaret and Mark can just talk things over alone,” Nancy whispered to her father and Ned, “I’m sure everything will turn out perfectly.”

“This plan of yours to reunite the lovers is fine,” Carson Drew replied gravely, “but don’t forget the stolen compact that was found in Margaret Judson’s brass chest.”

Nancy laughingly pressed her fingers against her father’s lips.

“Wait, Dad, until you’ve heard my story. I’m positive Margaret is innocent! She explained the whole matter to our satisfaction.” Ned nodded in agreement.

“I’d like to hear what she said,” the lawyer replied.

With a word now and then from Ned, Nancy related what she had learned from Margaret Judson. She was gratified to see that the information seemed to impress her father.

“In my opinion,” Nancy said, “Mrs. Brownell and her mysterious friend are the suspects in this case,” she ended.

“You may be right, Nancy,” her father commented, “but—”

There was no opportunity to say more just then because the door opened. Margaret and Mark stood there, smiling. They did not need to announce that their engagement had been renewed.

“I’ll never be able to repay you for your kindness,” Margaret told Nancy, tears gleaming in her eyes. “Ask any favor—”

“I have just one. Talk with my father about Mrs. Brownell and her friend, and give him as much information about them as you can remember.”

Mr. Haley, who had been sleeping soundly, stirred restlessly. Margaret Judson stepped forward to take the man’s hand in her own.

“Is that you, Miss Margaret?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered softly. “You must try to get well.”

The man’s eyes roved over her lovely face. “I am so glad you came. But I have failed you. I tried. I could not find the box of jewels.”

“It doesn’t matter now. The chest has been found so don’t worry any more.”

With a sigh of relief the man closed his eyes and fell into a restful sleep. While Ned remained at the bedside, Mr. Drew and Nancy led Margaret Judson to the living room.

“I have no idea what became of Mrs. Brownell,” the young woman reported, “but her friend, Mrs. Cartlett, annoyed me a few days ago at Hemlock Hall. I think perhaps she’s staying there.”

“Will you try to get in touch with her tomorrow?” Mr. Drew asked.

“Yes,” the other answered.

Carson Drew decided to take Margaret Judson into his confidence and explained that he wished to locate the two women in order to set a trap for Mrs. Brownell.

“If you are able to reach Mrs. Cartlett,” he said, “inform her that you have recovered the jewelry. Tell her to notify her friend that she must meet you at the cabin if she wishes to get back the lost compact.”

“I’m almost afraid to see Mrs. Brownell alone,” Margaret admitted. “She has a violent temper.”

“Perhaps I could come here with you,” Nancy suggested. Then as a second thought occurred to her she added, “Oh, I forgot about the tournament tomorrow.”

Mr. Drew smiled at his daughter. “I believe I can arrange matters for you so your match can be played in the afternoon. The tournament chairman is very reasonable. By the way, Nancy, how’s your hand?”

“It’s better, Dad. I haven’t felt much pain in it today.”

A few minutes later Margaret Judson, her fiancé, Nancy, and Mr. Drew prepared to drive to Deer Mountain Hotel. The engaged couple had decided to take rooms there until the mystery was cleared up.

As Nancy said good-by to Ned, she remarked, “As usual, you seem to be the one who must hold the fort. Hope you’re not too bored.”

“No chance,” Ned told her. “Besides plenty of excitement, I’ve found some fascinating books here on wildlife.”

At the hotel Nancy was greeted by her friends with a flood of questions.

“We were worried sick over you,” said Bess.

She and the others were introduced and told the amazing turn of events. They congratulated the reunited couple.

Margaret was able to get a room near Nancy’s. When they reached it, Nancy lingered a few minutes to talk.

“I don’t wish to be personal,” she began, “but are you well acquainted with a man named Martin Bartescue?”

“No,” Margaret replied promptly. “I met him on my trip abroad, but I didn’t care for him.”

“Have you seen him since your return to this country?”

“Oh, no. He was just a casual acquaintance.”

Nancy said, “Mr. Bartescue has been staying at this hotel. He pretended to know you well.”

“Mrs. Brownell knew the man very well,” Margaret said thoughtfully. “It was through her that I met him. Later she told him where I lived. But I did not want to encourage him to contact me and told her so.”

Nancy remembered the telegram Bartescue had intended for Margaret Judson. “He decided not to send it,” the young detective thought, “because deep down he knew she would not answer.”

Margaret looked so weary Nancy said good night and went to Bess and George’s room to hear about their evening. The cousins related their adventure with Martin Bartescue.

“Don’t feel bad about your mistake, George.” Nancy chuckled. “It served him right. He thought he would play a joke on me by asking me to leave a message in one hand of the statue.”

“I still think Barty must be a crook,” George insisted. “Otherwise, how do you explain his different styles of handwriting?”

Nancy’s answer surprised Bess and George. “I think he’s just a practical joker. He thinks it’s fun to keep us mystified.”

“Hm!” said George in disgust.

In the morning Nancy learned from the tournament chairman that her golf match had been postponed until one o’clock. That left the young people ample time to attend church and for Margaret to telephone Mrs. Brownell’s friend Mrs. Cartlett at Hemlock Hall.

The conversation between the two was brief. Mrs. Cartlett agreed to come to the cabin in the woods at five o’clock, bringing Mrs. Brownell with her.

“Everything is working out according to Dad’s plan,” Nancy declared in delight.

After they had finished eating, the group started for the golf course.

“I can’t wait for the confrontation at the cabin,” Nancy said to Margaret. “I only hope my golf match won’t keep me from witnessing the grand finale to the mystery.”

“Oh, it mustn’t!” Margaret exclaimed. “If we have a few minutes to spare on the way to the cabin, Nancy, I’d like to stop at my house and pick up a few clothes. I have nothing at Deer Mountain Hotel, and I’d like to dress up a bit.”

“For Mark?” Nancy teased.

“Yes,” the young woman said, blushing.

“I don’t blame you,” Nancy replied, but she added soberly, “I hope everything turns out as well as we expect.”

Margaret glanced at her in alarm. “Will I be cleared of the accusation against me?”

“No doubt about it. We’ll make Mrs. Brownell confess!” Nancy said confidently.

It occurred to her, however, that if Mrs. Brownell should get the slightest inkling she was under suspicion, the woman would not keep the appointment at Mr. Haley’s cabin.

Since it was nearly one o’clock, Nancy hurried to meet Betsy Howard on the golf course.

Coming toward her was Barty, who had just finished his final match. From the dour expression on his face she gathered he had not won the men’s championship.

“How did you come out in your game?” she asked.

“I lost,” he snapped. “I blame it on those two friends of yours, too!”

“What did they have to do with it?”

“I was so upset by everything that happened last night I couldn’t get a grip on myself. My swing was all off.”

“That’s too bad,” Nancy replied.

As she started to walk on, Bartescue attached himself to her, eager to talk.

“I told your friends I’d explain everything to you and to you only,” he declared. “I was aware all along that you are the famous girl detective Nancy Drew. I made up my mind to match wits with you,” Bartescue went on. “I guess I fooled you too, didn’t I?”

“For a few days,” Nancy answered. “I admit I suspected you of being a forger.”

“Because of my handwriting?”

“Yes, but you changed the style of your signature a bit too often. It became obvious you were trying to confuse me.”

“Years ago in college I discovered I had the ability to simulate varying styles of handwriting and I’ve had a lot of fun doing it occasionally.”

“It seems to me like a dangerous pastime,” Nancy remarked. “You may find yourself in trouble with the law.”

“Oh, I can take care of myself,” Barty chuckled. “Well, young lady, run along since you seem to be in such a hurry. After you win your match, I’ll buy you a 2 B X Gardenia!”

Laughing heartily at his own joke, he walked on toward the hotel.

“The conceit of that man!” Nancy muttered. “When I called him he made up that phony 2 B X Gardenia code and there’s nothing to it!”

Nancy greeted Betsy Howard and walked with her to the fifteenth tee where play was to be resumed. A large crowd of spectators had followed the two players and Nancy’s friends had joined the crowd.

“Good luck!” George called.

It was generally conceded that Betsy would win the match and thus the tournament. Being one point ahead with only four holes left to play, she held the advantage. Then, too, because of Nancy’s injured hand, few persons believed she could play her best game.

Betsy Howard, having won the last hole, held the honor of driving first and sent a long, straight ball flying down the fairway. Undaunted, Nancy teed up and swung her club with all her strength. Since they were nearing the end of the match, she had no intention of babying her injured hand.

Nancy had struck her ball squarely. To her satisfaction it sailed past the trees and came to rest in the middle of the fairway some yards ahead of Betsy’s drive. A murmur of admiration ran through the crowd.

As Nancy was leaving the tee, her caddy followed. On a sudden inspiration she asked, “Chris, have you ever caddied for Mr. Bartescue?”

“Yes, Miss Drew. Why?”

While she was trying to decide how to find out if the man had ever quizzed the caddy about her interest in the haunted bridge, he replied to her unspoken question.

“Mr. Bartescue was always asking me where I thought you went. I never told him about the— the scarecrow.” The boy laughed. “All I said was that you seemed interested in Miss Margaret Judson who used to live near here.”

At that moment the conversation was interrupted by a boy from the hotel. He handed Nancy a sealed letter. Promptly she tore open the envelope.

A broad smile spread over the girl’s face as she read the message: “Good luck, Nancy. The stage is set for Mrs. Brownell’s arrival.”