(#15) The Haunted Bridge (6 page)

He said quickly, “I have a little time to kill before I play my match this afternoon.”

“I doubt if we’ll be back very soon,” Nancy said pointedly. “You might miss your match if you come along.”

“In other words, ‘no gentlemen wanted.’ ” Bartescue laughed. “Oh, well, I was only teasing. I couldn’t have gone anyway because I tee off at one-thirty.” With a wide, knowing grin he left.

“Do you think Barty suspects we’re on a special saearch?” Bess asked in an undertone a moment later.

“He acted as if he does,” Nancy said.

Glancing over their shoulders to make certain they were not being watched, the girls cut through the woods. They approached the old wooden bridge cautiously.

“The scarecrow is waving its arms back and forth as usual,” Bess observed nervously as they glimpsed it through the trees. “I have a strong hunch that we’re walking straight into trouble.”

George laughed at Bess’s fears. “Don’t be negative,” George said.

Nancy looked up and down the stream. “This is probably the only place near here to cross the ravine,” she said. “I think the bridge should bear our weight if we walk over one at a time.”

The young detective went first. After she safely reached the opposite side, George followed. Bess came last, uttering a muffled little shriek as the flapping scarecrow brushed her arm.

“Sh—sh!” Nancy warned. “We don’t want to broadcast our arrival.”

“You’d scream too if that thing wrapped itself around—” Bess retorted.

George interrupted. “Nancy, I don’t see how you expect to find the burned mansion when you don’t know the way.” She ducked to avoid being scratched by a low-hanging thorny branch. “Did Chris say it was on this side of the bridge?”

Nancy replied, “He pointed toward the left in this general direction. I think we’re heading right. I see a trail.”

Nancy indicated a faintly outlined path directly ahead. When the girls reached it they were puzzled to find still another trail branching away from the ravine.

“Which shall we take?” Bess asked as Nancy hesitated. “It looks as if the one that follows along the edge of the ravine might have been used recently.”

“Yes, so probably it’s the other one. Anyway, let’s try it,” Nancy suggested.

She pushed forward again, the scraggly bushes tearing at her clothing. Bess and George followed as best they could. Presently the trio came to a clearing enclosed by a high, uncut hedge.

“Thank goodness we’re out of that jungle at last.” Bess sighed wearily as she leaned against a tree to rest. “Do you suppose this is the estate, Nancy?”

The young detective craned her neck. “Yes, I can see something directly ahead that looks like part of a building. This must have been a beautiful place when it was kept up.”

The grounds covered about five acres, and were wooded with giant oak and willow trees. What probably had been a lush green lawn was choked with weeds, but the vestiges of a rose garden remained.

There was a huge pile of debris in the very center of the clearing. A charred pillar and several half-burned timbers rose from it. Little else remained of the pretentious mansion.

“Is this what we’ve come to see?” Bess asked in disgust.

“What did you expect—that some genie had restored the house?” George replied.

Nancy said nothing. It had not occurred to her that the Judson fire had been so devastating. She had hoped the charred remains would yield a clue, such as a photograph, to connect some member of the family with the mysterious brass chest. Observing Nancy’s look of disappointment, her friends shrewdly guessed that she had not told them everything.

“Do you know anything more about Miss Judson?” Bess asked curiously.

“Chris told me she’s a young woman who has had a tragic life.”

“I don’t see how you hope to connect her with the brass chest,” George remarked.

Nancy smiled. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more until Dad gives me permission. I can see there’s nothing to find here, so let’s start back to the hotel.”

Bess and George did not urge their friend to reveal her secret because of her promise to her father. Few words were exchanged as the three friends made their way laboriously back to the ravine.

Nancy was absorbed with her own thoughts. Could Margaret Judson be a member of the international gang of jewel thieves?

“No, not if I’m any judge of character. She just didn’t look like the type,” Nancy reflected.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a shrill scream broke the stillness. The three girls stopped abruptly.

“There it is again!” Bess murmured apprehensively, clutching Nancy’s hand. “That awful scream!”

The girls waited a moment, listening, but the noise was not repeated.

“I’d certainly like to find out who or what is making that sound,” said Nancy.

“I’m not sure I would,” said George.

“It’s all part of the ravine mystery,” Nancy remarked, “but how does it figure in?”

The girls went on. Presently they reached the dividing point of the two trails. Nancy’s gaze roved down the path along the ravine.

“I think the sound came from that direction,” she said firmly. “Let’s investigate—”

“Not me,” Bess cried, grasping Nancy’s arm. “I’ve had enough adventure for one day, thank you.”

Nancy’s protests were overruled, and she was fairly pulled along toward the haunted bridge. One at a time the girls crossed it and retraced their steps toward the golf course.

To keep out of the way of players who might be coming down the fairway, Nancy and her friends walked within the fringe of woods. Now and then they could hear voices and knew that a match was being played somewhere nearby.

Suddenly an object came whizzing through the air, striking a tree not more than a dozen yards from where the girls were walking. It was a golf ball and landed squarely behind another tree.

“Someone will have a mean shot to play,” Nancy remarked. “Let’s duck out of sight and watch.”

The girls had just hidden behind some trees when Martin Bartescue entered the woods. He was muttering to himself, savagely berating “his luck.” The man hunted among the shrubbery for a few minutes and finally came upon his ball.

“Never mind, caddy,” the girls heard him shout. “I’ve found it.”

Satisfied that no one was watching, he took an iron club and deftly raked the ball from the hollow spot in which it had lodged. Now, with it lying in an unobstructed path to the fairway, he played a clean shot out of the woods.

“Did you see that?” Nancy whispered in great disgust. “He cheated!”

CHAPTER VIII

The Gardener’s Scare

“SOMEONE should report Barty to the golf committee,” Bess declared angrily. “The nerve of him to move his ball!”

“He ought to be barred from further competition,” George added.

“I agree,” Nancy said.

When the girls reached the hotel they found Carson Drew seated on the terrace. After he had chatted with the three for a few minutes he took Nancy aside and told her that he would have to leave immediately to catch a plane to New York.

“I’d appreciate your driving me to the airport and keeping my car. I must go because New York detectives have asked me to bring the brass chest and its contents there for examination,” he explained.

“Then they think the jewelry may be stolen property?” Nancy asked quickly.

“Yes. Nancy, keep your eyes open for that woman you encountered at Hemlock Hall. She’ll probably be wanted for questioning.”

“All right, Dad. I suspect that her name may be Margaret Judson but I have no proof.”

“You’ve done remarkable work on the case so far,” Mr. Drew praised his daughter warmly. “While I’m gone, watch out. Remember that the woman we’re after is shrewd and dangerous.”

“I’ll be careful.”

In the morning Nancy learned that her golf match would not be played until later in the day.

“Girls,” she said to Bess and George, “I’m driving down to the village to call on Chris’s mother. He said she could tell me more about the Judsons and their burned home.”

Chris had told his mother to expect Nancy. Mrs. Sutter greeted her cordially. She proved to be a loquacious woman who launched into a long account of her children’s achievements and talents. With difficulty Nancy managed to change the subject and talk about the Judson family.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Sutter said with a nod. “Chris was telling me you were interested in them, though I told him I didn’t see why anyone would be. They were aloof people, never mixing with their neighbors.

“Margaret was pretty but she aged a lot after her parents died. She was engaged to marry a college professor. I don’t know what happened. After the fire, she just ran off. I did housework for a woman who knew the young man. She told me he was all broken up over it and has not married.”

“Why did Margaret run away?”

“Some said it was because she was so upset over her parents’ death, and then the fire on top of it. Others thought maybe she just wanted to break the engagement and didn’t have the courage to tell the professor.”

“Isn’t any member of the Judson family living in the community now?”

“Oh, no. They’re all gone and no one knows what became of Margaret Judson except perhaps the gardener.”

Mrs. Sutter did not recall the man’s name nor where he lived.

“I heard that he goes to the Judson place sometimes and cuts the weeds. But I guess he’s given up hope that Margaret will ever return.”

“Have you any idea how I can find this gardener, Mrs. Sutter?”

“Not unless you happen to run into him by accident. He doesn’t come to town very often and I don’t know anyone who could tell you where he lives.”

“I’d really like to find him,” Nancy murmured.

“You’re pretty interested in the family, aren’t you?” Mrs. Sutter asked.

Nancy could see that Mrs. Sutter was overcome with curiosity. “I found something near the golf course which I thought might belong to Margaret Judson. That’s why I’m trying to trace her.”

The explanation partially satisfied Mrs. Sutter, and Nancy left before the woman could ask any more questions. On her way to Deer Mountain Hotel she stopped her car at a service station to get gas. She learned from the attendant that the Judson estate could be reached by a dirt road which ran south of the ravine.

“I’ll drive out there on the chance the gardener may be cutting weeds,” Nancy decided. “I’ll still have time to get back for my golf match.”

The trip to the Judson estate took a little over half an hour. Nancy left the car by the roadside and walked up an overgrown lane to the estate. At first she thought the place was deserted. Then suddenly she glimpsed a man some distance away. He was cutting weeds with a hand sickle.

As Nancy moved forward eagerly, he looked up. Seeing her, he dropped his sickle and started to run in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” Nancy begged him. “Please wait!”

The man paid no attention. He leaped onto a bicycle hidden in the bushes, then rode rapidly down a path and disappeared among the trees.

“Don’t run away!” Nancy shouted as she dashed after him.

The man glanced over his shoulder and peddled faster and faster. Breathless from running, Nancy was compelled to abandon the chase. In chagrin she watched him vanish from view.

“Now why did he act that way?” she speculated, frowning.

With a shrug Nancy turned and walked back to her car. At the hotel Bess and George were waiting for her on the terrace.

“Barty won his match yesterday,” Bess announced as Nancy sat down. “George and I happened to see the scorecard.”

“What did he have on number sixteen?” Nancy asked quickly.

“A four. Imagine that!”

“He should have been disqualified for cheating,” Nancy said. “Did you tell the chairman about it?”

“We were going to, but what was the use?” George asked. “He would deny everything.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Bess added.

“Barty was ahead before he came to the sixteenth hole,” George revealed. “He didn’t need to cheat for the match already was his. He just couldn’t bear to take a penalty.”

“It’s disgusting,” Nancy murmured. “I wonder how the other matches are turning out. Let’s watch some of the players.”

They sauntered along the course, pausing at the seventeenth green to watch two players hole their putts. Then they moved on toward the woods.

“Isn’t that Chris Sutter?” Nancy asked presently, indicating a boy just within the fringe of trees.

“He’s peering into the woods at the identical place where your ball went in,” Bess observed.

“I tried to convince him that the area wasn’t haunted,” Nancy said with a chuckle.

It was obvious that he was still afraid to look for the ball. Finally, mastering his misgivings, he disappeared from view. The girls quickened their steps.

Just as they reached the woods, Chris reappeared, apparently unsuccessful in his search for the golf ball.

“No luck?” Nancy asked him.

The boy shook his head. “Sorry.”

“By the way, Chris,” Nancy said, “I’m depending on you to caddy for me today.”

“I’ll be ready whenever you say, Miss Drew.”

“Please be at the first tee by two-thirty. Our match will be a hard one.”

“You’ll win,” Chris said confidently, “and I’ll be pulling for you all the way.”

The girls chatted with Chris for a few minutes. Then, leaving him to continue the search for the autographed golf ball, they walked back to the hotel for luncheon.

While passing through the lobby Nancy saw a letter in her room mailbox. She stopped to ask the clerk for it.

“I’ll bet it’s a note from your new admirer,” Bess declared, giggling.

The letter was indeed from Martin Bartescue. He wished Nancy luck in her afternoon match, and said that he had defeated his opponent by an easy margin.

“If you win today, we must celebrate our joint victory,” he had written. “I look forward to escorting you to the dance at Hemlock Hall.”

“Hm!” Nancy fumed. “He takes it for granted that I’d be thrilled to go.” Then, calming down, she added, “I think perhaps I’ll accept.”