(#15) The Haunted Bridge (8 page)

APPARENTLY the two women on the porch heard someone coming. They arose and moved away, walking hurriedly toward the garden.

By the time Nancy came outdoors, they were too far away for her to distinguish either woman in the darkness. But the young detective observed that one was dressed in a flowered silk gown which hung in long, loose folds from her shoulders.

“Could she be Margaret Judson?” Nancy asked herself.

In a few moments they had vanished. Nancy ran down the steps into the garden, sure that the women had taken one of the winding paths leading from the hotel.

“I must find them!” she thought.

A number of couples were enjoying the moonlight, some idling near the fountains. Others were walking slowly up and down as they listened to strains of music from the dance orchestra. Nancy darted here and there, searching frantically.

Suddenly, far ahead of her, she thought she saw the woman in the flowered silk dress. Nancy rushed forward. Just then a young couple came from among the trees. Nancy, unable to stop, ran full tilt into them.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” she apologized. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No,” the man replied, “but watch your step.”

Nancy took another path, this time more slowly. But she could not find the woman in the flowered silk and her companion. Finally Nancy gave up and went back to the hotel lobby. One of the women she sought was just entering an elevator!

“Now’s my chance!” Nancy decided.

She was too late to catch the elevator but raced upstairs. Nancy reached the next floor just as the elevator stopped there. The woman in the flowered dress alighted. But she was not Margaret Judson.

On a sudden hunch Nancy said to her, “Pardon me, but do you know where Miss Judson is?”

The woman gazed at the girl in surprise but replied, “Probably she has gone to her room.”

Nancy was amazed to hear Miss Judson was registered at the hotel. The other day the young woman had said that she was not staying there. “Do you know the number of her room?”

“No”

Nancy hurried downstairs to ask the desk clerk. “She just left here,” he reported. “Decided not to stay after all.”

“Oh!” Nancy gasped. “Can you tell me her forwarding address?”

“She left none.”

The young detective was mulling over this bit of news when Martin Bartescue sauntered up.

“Oh, here you are,” he said with a trace of annoyance in his tone.

“I didn’t mean to run off,” Nancy replied quickly. “I thought I saw Miss Judson enter the elevator. I want to speak with her. Have you seen her tonight?”

He answered with a mysterious smile, “Let’s forget Miss Judson and enjoy this next dance.”

Against her will Nancy was led back to the ballroom. She did not try to escape from her partner again. Shortly before the last dance, she found an opportunity to remind Bess and George to follow closely in their car during the ride back to the hotel.

Despite Nancy’s fears, the homeward drive proved to be uneventful. She tumbled into bed, tired and discouraged by her unsuccessful detective work that evening.

Nancy wondered if Barty had gone to the dance to meet Margaret Judson. The weary young sleuth fell asleep. At six she was awakened by the alarm on her travel clock.

“Who left that turned on?” Nancy moaned drowsily. Then she remembered having set it herself. Soon it would be time for her to drive to the airport to meet her father.

By seven o’clock father and daughter were seated opposite each other at a table in the airport restaurant.

“Did you have a successful trip, Dad?” his daughter asked as soon as they had given their breakfast order. “What did you learn about the contents of the brass chest?”

“The New York police said only one article in the entire collection proved to be stolen property.”

“The jeweled compact?”

“Yes. The other articles couldn’t be identified. Of course, they may have been stolen recently and the theft was not reported. At any rate, the jewelry, with the exception of the compact, is not on the list of articles smuggled into this country by the international gang.”

Nancy listened to a more detailed account of her father’s visit to New York. Then she revealed her own recent activities.

“I was sure I’d located Miss Judson at Hemlock Hall,” Nancy finished. “But she got away before I could talk to her.”

“We must trace her,” Mr. Drew said. “From the clues you’ve gathered I’m certain she’s the woman we’re after.”

The lawyer wished to drive without delay to Hemlock Hall to look for Margaret Judson, and Nancy was glad to accompany him. The trip proved to be a waste of time. Although they inquired at the airport, gas stations and various shops, no one could give them any information about Miss Judson’s whereabouts.

“Dad,” said Nancy, “I’m afraid I’ll have to stop sleuthing and hurry back to our hotel. My name is posted to play in the golf tournament at two o’clock.”

The Drews ate lunch, then drove to Deer Mountain. Nancy quickly changed to golf clothes and went out on the course. As usual, Chris was her caddy.

The match was close. Nancy, scarcely noticing the pain in her hand, played an excellent game. To the delight of her friends, she won on the fifteenth hole. As she finished out the round, she jokingly asked Chris if he had found her Jimmy Harlow ball.

“I don’t think I’ll ever find it now,” he told her gloomily. “Maybe someone else picked it up.”

“Have you noticed anyone in the woods by the bridge?” Nancy asked.

“This morning I saw a man poking a stick around in the mud by the stream.”

Nancy pressed for a more detailed description of the person, but Chris was unable to give one. On her way back to the hotel she reflected on the clue that Chris unknowingly had revealed.

“That man he saw may have been the Judson gardener,” she thought. “Or possibly someone who was searching for the brass chest I found buried in the mudbank.”

Nancy was afraid it might be too late to locate the man, but she decided to investigate the haunted bridge area immediately. Bess and George were eager to assist in Nancy’s search. The three girls set off across the golf course. They had gone only a few steps when Bess stopped.

“Here comes that pest Barty!” she exclaimed. “Now what’ll we do?”

Thinking very quickly, Nancy greeted the new-comer with a warm smile.

“Oh, Mr. Bartescue, did my father see you this afternoon?”

“Why no,” he answered in surprise, falling into the trap. “Did he wish to speak with me?”

“Well, he was looking for a tennis partner.”

Martin Bartescue had boasted to Nancy that he excelled in several sports. Tennis and golf, however, he claimed were his favorites.

“I see Dad on the terrace!” Nancy cried and motioned for him to join the group.

“Dad, I’ve found a wonderful tennis partner for you,” she declared as he came up.

The lawyer suspected that Nancy wished to rid herself of Bartescue, and agreed to get his tennis shoes and racquet and meet the other man at the courts.

The girls made their way toward the haunted bridge. Dark clouds were moving swiftly overhead, and by the time they reached the woods a strong wind was blowing.

Soon they were within view of the old bridge. Bess shivered and kept close to her companions. Suddenly they were startled to hear the same moaning and groaning sounds which had perplexed them on their first visit.

“Oh!” Bess squealed, clutching George’s arm.

Nancy warned her to be quiet, and for several minutes the girls stood perfectly still, waiting for the sound to be repeated. There was only a rustle of leaves in the breeze.

“I believe the noise came from somewhere right around here,” said Nancy. “Let’s investigate. Maybe we’ll find someone’s in hiding, playing a joke.”

The girls searched through the brush and trees near both ends of the bridge, but found no one. Then they explored the trail they had seen on their previous visit which led along the ravine. Footprints were clearly visible. Had someone used the path within the past twenty-four hours?

A moment later a shrill scream broke the stillness. This time Nancy was certain that the cry had come from some distance up the ravine.

“Let’s go!” she urged excitedly. “We’ll solve the mystery of these strange sounds yet!”

She darted forward along the path, oblivious to the thorny bushes that tore at her hair and clothing. Suddenly Nancy halted and stared. In a small clearing ahead was a log cabin. Smoke was curling lazily from the chimney.

“I didn’t know anyone lived here in the woods,” Bess gasped in surprise.

Nancy was debating what to do, when the cabin door opened and a man carrying a rifle emerged.

“He’s the same one who was working near the Judson property,” Nancy whispered. “I’ll bet he’s the gardener. Let’s see what he’s up to with that rifle,” she added.

The man shouldered his gun and struck off in the general direction of the Judson property.

“I’m sure he’s only going hunting,” George declared.

Cautiously the girls followed him. Suddenly Bess tripped over a mossy log. As she fell headlong on the trail, she gave a faint outcry. The man immediately paused and glanced back. The trio crouched low.

Apparently satisfied that the sound he had heard was made by some wild animal, the hunter slowly walked on again. Moments later the girls heard a loud explosion and saw a sudden flash of fire. They gasped in horror as the man uttered a sharp moan of pain.

“He’s hurt!” Nancy cried and darted forward.

The victim was lying still on the ground when the girls reached his side. Nancy bent anxiously over him and was relieved to find him breathing. A slight trickle of blood oozed from a wound in his forehead.

The young detective glanced at the man’s rifle which lay on the ground a short distance away.

“His gun must have gone off accidentally,” Nancy surmised, then added, “We’d better not move him. Let’s get a doctor at once.”

“I’ll run back to the hotel,” George offered.

“You’re not afraid to cross the haunted bridge alone?” Bess asked quietly.

George shook her head. “Of course not.”

As she hurried out of sight, Nancy studied the darkening sky. “I hope the rain holds off, at least until the doctor gets here,” she said.

But within a few minutes it began to rain. Nancy and Bess carried the wounded man to his three-room cabin and laid him gently on a bed in the rear room. Bess looked for a clean towel and put a cold compress on his head.

Puddles of water were forming on the floor beneath the open windows. Nancy hurriedly closed them. One of the sashes in the bedroom was stuck fast and she looked about the kitchen for a tool to loosen it.

When she opened a drawer of the high cupboard, Nancy came upon an assortment of papers. Thinking she might find a letter to identify the unconscious man, Nancy swiftly examined them. Suddenly her hand encountered a faded photograph between two sheets of stiff cardboard.

The picture was of a beautiful young girl. Across the bottom in a bold scrawl were the words:

To my faithful friend
Joe Haley

Margaret Judson

Nancy thought of the man who lay motionless on the bed. Was he Joe Haley and was Joe Haley the Judson gardener?

“The girl in the photograph is the one I met in the powder room at Hemlock Hall!” she told herself. “I was right about her identity.”

“Nancy, aren’t you going to close that window?” Bess broke in on her friend’s reflections. “The wind is blowing directly across the bed.”

After putting the photograph back in the drawer, Nancy continued her search for a tool. Finally she found a hammer and using it gently lowered the sash. At the same moment a wild cry came from behind the cabin.

“What was that?” Bess called in terror.

CHAPTER XI

Telephone Disguise

DETERMINED to learn the cause of the weird scream, Nancy flung open the cabin door.

“Don’t leave me here alone!” Bess pleaded.

Her words fell on deaf ears. The young detective had darted out into the rain. She moved swiftly toward the rear of the cabin, certain the cry had come from there.

Nancy glanced about quickly but could see no one in the well-tended flower and vegetable garden or in the greenhouse. A few feet beyond, among the trees, she caught sight of a gleaming metallic object and hurried toward it.

As she drew closer Nancy was surprised to find that the gleam came from the heavy wire netting of a roofed wild-animal cage. Nancy’s amazement grew as she observed that in it was a young mountain lion. She wondered if it belonged to Joe Haley. The animal stopped pacing to raise its head and give a blood-chilling howl.

“So you don’t trust me?” said Nancy, grinning. “Anyway, you’ve solved the mystery of the terrible screams we’ve been hearing.”

She turned and started toward the cabin. Midway across the clearing Nancy saw Bess in the doorway motioning frantically.

“Nancy! Come here quickly!” she called out.

Nancy reached her, thoroughly drenched from the rain and breathless from running.

“What is it, Bess?” she asked.

“He—he,” she said, indicating the wounded man on the bed, “started mumbling. I thought it might be important.”

“Could you make out any of the words?” Nancy asked.

“He murmured something about a ‘Miss Margaret’ a moment ago,” Bess replied.

As Nancy seated herself at the bedside, Mr. Haley began to toss restlessly on his pillow. It was difficult to restrain him. Then for several minutes the patient lay perfectly stilL

His eyelids fluttered open and he mumbled, “Please, Miss Margaret—don’t stay away. I can’t find it—I’ve tried, but I can’t.” Mr. Haley’s words ended in an incoherent mumble.

“What do you suppose he’s been trying to find?” Bess asked.

Nancy shook her head.

Just then Bess cried out, “What was that? I thought I heard voices in the woods.”