By noontime the Spencers and Emmet Calhoun appeared, ready for brunch. Margo was vivacious and humorous, laughing about the way she kept house.
“Everything out of a can or the freezer,” she said. “Paper plates and cups on all occasions. A cleaning woman comes every other day,” she explained. “Our hours are too uncertain for us to have a full-time maid.”
Nancy smiled. “You have a well-stocked refrigerator and pantry,” she remarked. “Nobody should ever go hungry here.”
She fixed a tasty fruit salad, while Bess and George helped Margo warm tomato soup and broil hamburgers. Dessert was a cake from a River Heights bakery.
Conversation during luncheon was confined exclusively to the activities of the theater. There was laughter and banter among the three professionals, and though the girls did not understand the many innuendoes that passed between the Spencers and Emmet Calhoun, they thoroughly enjoyed what Mr. Spencer called “backstage gossip.”
Cally old boy from time to time quoted from Shakespeare. Often he would rise from the table and speak with dramatic gestures. Once, when the conversation turned to the fact that this professional group was living on a former farm far removed from the Broadway theater atmosphere, he quoted:“ ‘And this our life, exempt from public
haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the
running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every
thing.’ ”
Bess’s eyes had grown wide. How she wished she could act as dramatically as Emmet Calhoun! She told him this, adding, “I’m trying hard. Maybe someday I’ll have a part in a play.”
The actor was enormously pleased by her flattering remark. “I suppose you girls know that quotation was from As You Like It,” he said.
Mr. Spencer laughed. “Don’t coax Cally old boy to recite too much. I think he knows every line in every Shakespearean play, and if you don’t watch out, he’ll be reciting them all to you!”
When the meal was over, the girls offered to tidy up. Without hesitation Margo accepted. “I really should go into town and do some shopping,” she said. “There’s no performance tonight, you know, so that will give me time to finish my errands.”
“If you girls are looking for a job,” Mr. Spencer added, “there is some scenery to be painted for our next production.”
“When is that show going on?” Bess asked. Secretly she was hoping she might be given a small part.
“It’s supposed to start week after next,” the actor answered, “but things aren’t going very well at rehearsals. I don’t know what’s the matter with the Footlighters. They’re doing a pretty good job in the current play; but the one coming up—well, not one of the people chosen for the parts has caught on except Tammi Whitlock.”
“I watched her last night,” Nancy spoke up, glad to hear more about the amateur actress. “I thought she did a marvelous job.”
“Oh, Tammi is talented, but she’s too egotistical about her ability,” Mr. Spencer said. “Besides, she’s kind of a troublemaker. If she weren’t so good, I wouldn’t give her any part at all.”
“Troublemaker?” Nancy repeated, hoping to learn more.
Mr. Spencer said she was not well liked by the other actors and actresses. “She tries to lord it over everybody,” he explained, “and is sarcastic and unkind in her remarks to the people who do not learn so quickly as she does.”
Suddenly the girls realized that Margo was looking intently at Emmet Calhoun. She seemed to be telegraphing a message to him. Mr. Spencer, feeling perhaps that he had gone far enough in his confidences, stopped speaking abruptly. Margo arose from the table and Mr. Spencer and Cally old boy left the house.
When the girls were alone, Bess said, “What did you make of all that, Nancy?”
“You’ll be surprised when I tell you,” Nancy replied. “I have an idea Emmet Calhoun is very fond of Tammi Whitlock.”
“What on earth gave you that idea?” George asked.
“A little signal that Cally old boy seemed to be getting from Margo. I thought Mr. Calhoun was going to come to Tammi’s defense, but Margo seemed to be warning him not to.”
Bess sighed. “You’re probably right, Nancy. But I’d like to bet that Tammi is no more interested in Cally old boy than I am.”
The three girls worked hard that afternoon on a large piece of scenery which was to represent a tree-surrounded lake with swans floating on it. Finally paint and brushes were put away. The girls ate their supper alone, and in a low voice Nancy told of a plan she had in mind.
“Let’s take my car and pretend we’re going to town. We’ll park it on the side road and then sneak back here to spy on the place.”
“You mean watch the hayloft?” George asked.
“Yes, and,” Nancy added with a chuckle, “we may see the dancing puppet!”
As soon as it was dark the three friends drove off. Nancy went about half a mile from the Van Pelt estate, then turned into a narrow dirt road. She pulled the car far over onto the shoulder, and turned off the lights.
“Somebody is coming up in back of us,” George remarked. “We’d better not get out until the car passes.”
The girls sat still.
“Duck!” Nancy ordered. “We can’t risk being seen!”
They huddled together with their faces toward their knees. In a few seconds the oncoming car, instead of passing, rammed right into the convertible.
There was a crash of glass! The three girls blacked out!
CHAPTER V
Moonlight Sleuthing
FOR SEVERAL seconds Nancy and her friends remained unconscious. The person who had rammed the convertible took advantage of the time. The car backed up, then whizzed ahead.
Finally Nancy came to and raised herself up. The other car was out of sight.
“Oh, my head!” she thought, knowing she had hit the steering wheel.
Nevertheless, she turned her attention to Bess and George, who by this time also were sitting upright. “Are you hurt?” she asked.
George said she was all right, except for a lump on her forehead where she had hit the dashboard. Bess rubbed the back of her neck. “I feel as if my head were on crooked,” she said, trying to be cheerful.
“How about you, Nancy?” George asked. “Do we go on sleuthing, or shall we give it up for tonight?”
“I think we’d better give up the sleuthing—at least for now,” Nancy replied. “I have a strong hunch that the person who ran into us did it on purpose. There was plenty of room to pass.”
George suggested that the driver might have been ill or sleepy. Nancy admitted this could be true. “In any case, I think the whole thing should be reported to Chief McGinnis.”
Bess and George nodded in agreement. Before driving off, the girls got out of the convertible and inspected the damage to the car. The rear bumper needed straightening, the trunk compartment was dented, and paint was chipped off in spots.
“This is a sturdy bus,” George commented. “That whack we got was enough to smash in the rear of most cars.”
Nancy patted the fender. “I’m pretty fond of this old convertible,” she said, smiling.
She drove directly to police headquarters in River Heights. To her delight, Chief McGinnis was there. When she reported to her old friend what had happened, the officer frowned.
“I’ll send an alarm out for that crazy driver at once,” he said. The chief looked intently at Nancy. “Do you have some theory as to who it is?”
“Nothing definite,” the girl detective answered. “But I have a feeling that driver might have run into me on purpose—to keep me from working on a mystery I’ve become interested in.”
“Another mystery, eh?” the middle-aged, good-natured officer asked. He had great admiration for what Nancy already had accomplished, and often told her teasingly that he hoped someday she might become a detective on his force. “I guess this case may be another game between you and me to see who’ll find the culprit first!”
Si
nce the chief’s phone was ringing, Nancy had no chance to reply. She said a hurried good-by, and the girls left his office.
Nancy drove directly to a garage in town which had twenty-four-hour service. The young man on night duty had attended high school with her. She and her father considered him an excellent mechanic and always brought their car work to him.
“Hi, Joe!” Nancy called as she drove in. “Would you have time to straighten the rear bumper on this car? Somebody out on the road got frisky and rammed into me.”
Joe walked over and looked at the damage. “That’s a shame, Nancy. I can straighten the bumper, but I wouldn’t have time tonight to get out that dent, or do any painting.”
“Do what you can,” Nancy told him. “How long do you think it will take?”
“Oh, an hour, maybe.”
“Okay,” said Nancy. “I’ll go home in the meantime and pick up the car later. And, Joe—let me know if anyone brings in a car for headlight and fender repair, would you?”
Joe nodded as the girls walked out of the garage. Nancy turned to Bess and George, saying, “We can pick up a snack at the house. I want to ask Dad to get a full report on the Spencers and Emmet Calhoun.”
The girls found Hannah Gruen preparing a meal for Mr. Drew, who had arrived home late and had not yet had supper. After an affectionate greeting for his daughter, and a hello to Bess and George, he asked, “Nancy, what’s the bruise on your head from? And are you giving up your case so soon?”
Nancy’s eyes twinkled. “Why, Dad, I’m here because I just couldn’t stay away from you. Besides, we girls are starving. Professional actors and actresses like the Spencers don’t eat much, I guess, so I miss Hannah’s cooking.”
Bess and George began to laugh, as they found both Mr. Drew and Mrs. Gruen taking the last part of Nancy’s remarks seriously. “I’ll get you a nice big dinner right away,” the kindly housekeeper offered.
“I’m afraid,” said Nancy, “that you’ve caught me in a great big fib. We’ll just have some cookies—or cake—and milk,” she said. “What I really came home for was to ask you, Dad, to find out all you can about Mr. and Mrs. Spencer and a Shakespearean actor named Emmet Calhoun, who has been staying out at the Van Pelt estate and helping to coach the Footlighters.”
“I’ll be happy to do that,” the lawyer responded. “And now suppose you bring Hannah and me up to date on what has happened out at the Footlighters’ theater.”
After the three girls had told the whole story, their listeners gaped in astonishment. “It sounds like a dangerous case,” Hannah said worriedly. “Maybe too dangerous for you to continue, Nancy.”
“I must admit that things have happened unexpectedly,” Nancy replied, “but I think that since I’ve been alerted, I’ll avoid letting the unexpected happen again.”
Mr. Drew put an arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “I’m afraid, my dear, trying to do that is asking for the impossible. But I beg of you, be careful.” It was now his chance to do a little teasing. He turned to Bess and George. “I hereby appoint you guardians of one Nancy Drew, detective.”
“We accept the assignment,” George and Bess said in unison, making low bows.
Mr. Drew drove the girls back to the garage. When they reached it, they found that Joe had finished his work. Nancy thanked him for the quick service, paid him, and drove off. When the girls reached the parking lot of the Van Pelt estate, they were surprised to find that the mansion was in complete darkness.
“I guess the Spencers figured we were not coming back tonight,” Bess remarked, as she climbed out of the car. Then, as another thought struck her, she said worriedly, “Maybe everybody has gone away and we can’t get in.”
“I have a surprise for you,” Nancy said. “Margo Spencer gave me a key to the front door.”
“Thank goodness,” said George.
The girls let themselves in and went directly to their rooms. As Nancy was about to pull down the shades at her windows, she looked out onto the dark grounds. She noticed the moon was rising.
“It will be quite light pretty soon,” she told herself. “I think I’ll go outdoors and look around for a while. Maybe the dancing puppet will perform.”
Nancy left her bedside light on. She picked up a flashlight and went downstairs. Noiselessly the girl detective made her way through the kitchen and let herself out the back door.
By this time the moon had gone behind a cloud, but it was light enough for her to see the steps of the rear stoop. Nancy went outside the trellis to a clump of bushes where she intended to hide. From this vantage point she could see the lawn and the stage-door end of the trellis. As she walked around the dump of bushes, Nancy ran full tilt into a shadowy figure!
“Oh!” she cried, startled.
Nancy instantly clicked on her light and shone it into the other person’s face. “Mr. Spencer!”
“Nancy! Well, for Pete’s sake,” the actor said. “What’s the big idea?”
Nancy apologized and told him why she was there. Mr. Spencer chuckled. “We had the same idea,” he confessed.
“Let’s watch together,” Nancy suggested. “I’m hoping that as soon as these dark clouds pass and the moon lights up the lawn, we may see the puppet.”
It seemed an eternity to Nancy before the black cloud had moved away. But little by little the moon began to peep from behind it. In a few moments the scene was almost as bright as daylight.
At the same instant, Nancy and Mr. Spencer heard running footsteps. Looking intently ahead, they saw a girl emerge from behind the barn theater. Recognition was impossible at this distance. The girl ran toward the road.
“Shall we follow her?” Nancy asked excitedly.
Mr. Spencer grabbed Nancy’s arm. “Look!” he whispered tensely. “Over there, on the far side of the lawn!”
Nancy’s eyes popped wide in amazement. “It’s the dancing puppet!” she gasped.
CHAPTER VI
The Witch
THE life-size puppet had come out of the stage-door entrance. It was dressed in a frilly ballet costume, and the blond hair was curly and dose cropped.
“One thing is certain,” Nancy told herself. “This is a puppet, not a live person.”
Mr. Spencer whispered, “Now is our chance to catch that thing!” He began to run toward the mysterious figure.
Nancy followed and caught up to him. But before they had gone far, the dancing puppet jerked around suddenly and returned inside the door, which slammed shut.
When Nancy and the actor reached it, they found the door locked. Mr. Spencer looked at her. “You see what I mean!” he cried excitedly. “It’s supernatural! I tell you, this is a ghost with a brain!”
“It certainly seems so,” Nancy agreed. “How can we get into the theater?”
Mr. Spencer said they would need a key but he had none with him. “I’ll hurry to the house and get one,” he said. “Are you afraid to wait here alone?”
Nancy smiled. “Of course not, but do hurry!”
The actor sped off across the lawn and into the kitchen. He was gone so long that Nancy felt precious time was being lost. Finally Mr. Spencer returned and unlocked the stage-door entrance. It was pitch dark inside. He snapped on lights.
“Now where did that puppet go?” he asked, looking all around but seeing no sign of it.
“How many other doors are there?” Nancy asked.
“The only other one is the main entrance,” Mr. Spencer told her. They walked through the theater to inspect it.
“Locked!” Mr. Spencer said. “And bolted from the inside!”
“Then no one came out this way,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “And there are no windows—the theater is air-conditioned. Let’s make a thorough search,” she proposed.
Nancy and Mr. Spencer looked in and behind every seat in the theater, back of all scenery, and in closets. The puppet was not there.
Nancy was extremely puzzled. Aloud she said, “If I weren’t so practical, I’d think that dancing figure ev
aporated into thin air.”
“Well,” Mr. Spencer said, “we’ve lost our chance for tonight, I guess. We may as well go back to the house.”
On the way, he added, “I’m glad you saw the dancing puppet, Nancy. You know now that it wasn’t a figment of my imagination.”
Nancy asked him if the strange apparition had ever caused any damage.
“No,” Mr. Spencer replied, “I can’t say it has. What worries me most is that the story will leak out and people will be afraid to come to our performances.”
“A few might,” Nancy answered. “But a good many people might come out of curiosity. However, the only times you’ve seen the dancing puppet are late at night. Isn’t that true?”
“Yes.”
“Then, if I had to guess why the puppet is here,” Nancy said, “I’d say it’s to scare you and your wife and Mr. Calhoun away from the property.”
As she prepared for bed, Nancy kept mulling this thought over in her mind. It was evident that somebody was back of the strange performance. But what was the reason? And why should anyone want to frighten people out of the house? Was there something hidden in the house?
The following morning Nancy told Bess and George of her strange adventure and suggested that the three girls go back to the stage and hunt for a secret entrance to the attached barn.
“You figure that’s the only way the puppet could have been hidden from you?” George asked.
“Yes.”
By ten o’clock Nancy and the cousins were standing on the empty stage gazing at the rear wall. Seeing no opening, they began shifting scenery to take a look. But they found no door or sliding panel.
“Maybe there’s an opening up higher,” George suggested. “There might have been a ladder to it, which has been removed.”
One of the props for the current Civil War play was an old farm wagon. George climbed up into it and gazed above her head. Suddenly she called, “I think I’ve found the door!”
The other girls climbed into the wagon and confirmed George’s finding. Above them was indeed a door with an inconspicuous handle.
The Clue of the Dancing Puppet Page 3