Nancy thought this a rather unusual way of answering her question---and perhaps more revealing than Kim had intended. The teenage sleuth had the same feeling she had sensed in talking to Brett: that very likely Kim, too, now regretted the breakup of their romance, just as he did.
“Do you and Brett have any plans to see each other?” Nancy probed.
Kim Vernon shook her head and smiled---a bit wistfully, nancy thought. “No, I just want to keep my hand in at golf, but otherwise relax. Maybe find time for a bit of swimming, boating, tennis . . .”
As the doorbell rang, she broke off to glance out the window, then rose from her chair. “In fact, I ordered a racket Saturday afternoon. That’s probably the delivery man from the store!”
Kim answered the bell, accepted something from the man who rang, then closed the door and eagerly began to unwrap the package. From its shape, it appeared to be the tennis racket she was expecting.
But a moment later, Kim gasped in horror and flung the racket aside! Covering her face with her hands, she sank into a chair and burst into shuddering sobs.
Nancy picked up the racket, her own eyes widening as she did so.
Instead of normal racket webbing, it was strung with glistening threads that formed a cobweb design!
11. Trapped!
Cobwebs and spiders!
Obviously, nancy realized, the weirdly strung racket must be connected in some way to the strange mystery that seemed to be blighting Kim Vernon’s career. But how? And what did it mean?
The black-haired golf star seemed like an innocent victim who had become entangled in a spiderweb of trouble and danger!
Whatever the answer, this cobweb racket might be the clue Nancy had been hoping for, the clue that would help her unravel the mystery!
Should she press Kim for information while she was emotionally upset and her guard was down?
A hasty glance at the hysterically sobbing young woman was all Nancy needed to decide against this course of action. The thought of taking advantage of Kim’s distraught condition to worm information out of her was too distasteful.
Dropping the tennis racket, nancy snatched up her shoulder bag and darted toward the door. “I’m going after that delivery man!” she cried.
As the teenage sleuth burst out of the cottage, she saw him just driving away.
He’s a phony! Thought Nancy. Not only was he wearing no uniform cap or jacket, but instead of a delivery van, he was driving an unmarked brown sedan!
Sliding swiftly behind the wheel of her blue sports car, Nancy keyed the engine to life and took off with a vroom of exhaust. As she sped in pursuit, she saw the brown car turning off the riverfront road, some distance ahead.
Nancy followed. In broad daylight, there was little or nothing she could do to conceal the fact that she was tailing the brown car. Luckily its driver seemed unaware that he was being followed---which at least kept the pursuit from turning into a high-speed chase!
The mystery man soon left behind the pleasant, tree-shaded suburban area of riverside bungalows and cottages. His car was heading toward the heart of town.
As she kept it in sight, Nancy ws turning the racket riddle over and over in her mind.
Russ Chaffee had told her how upset Kim had become on two earlier occasions---once on receiving a drawing of a red spider, and another time when someone sent her an actual living specimen. The delivery of the cobwebbed tennis racket looked like the latest move in a deliberate campaign of terror!
Was it some similar incident that had led to Kim’s withdrawal from the Charleston Cup match?
But if so, who was going to such lengths to frighten her?---and why?
Did spiders and cobwebs remind her of some terrifying experience in the past? Somehow, to Nancy’s finely tuned sleuthing instincts, the whole situation smacked strongly of blackmail.
In any event, the man in the brown car must be in on the plot. And Nancy was determined to find out what lay behind it!
As the reached a busy, workaday section of River Heights, traffic increased. Nancy was able to drop behind one or more other cars, yet still keep the brown sedan in view.
They were now entering a run-down area of small factories and aging commercial buildings, many of them empty and vandalized. The brown car was a block ahead when Nancy saw it swing suddenly into a driveway on the right.
Crossing the intersection, she pulled over to the curb, jumped out, and quietly followed on foot.
The driveway, nancy now saw, led to an old warehouse – deserted, judging by the look of it. The brown sedan was parked in the cindered yard in front of the building, but its driver was no longer in sight. Evidently he had gone into the warehouse.
Nancy approached it cautiously. The wooden door opened to her touch. Entering, she stopped to look around and get her bearings. The vast, dusty room was unpleasantly dark and gloomy. The only light came in through two dirty windows, high up on the front wall, on either side of the doorway.
“Now where has he gone to?” Nancy said to herself. There was no sound.
The young sleuth took a small flashlight out of her bag and switched it on. In one corner she could see some pipes and wooden poles and cardboard boxes. Otherwise the room seemed empty. The whole place smelled musty and unaired.
Aiming her flashlight downward, she played its beam back and forth over the floor. Nancy stifled a gasp as the yellow cone of light revealed footprints in the dust!
What luck! She thought and begin following them. They tracked toward a door on the right, which Nancy had failed to see when she shone her beam about the room.
The door stood slightly ajar. Slowly and gently Nancy pushed it open. Beyond lay a dark passage. Nancy tiptoed through the doorway to see where the passage led – and a moment later wished she hadn’t!
Someone grabbed her from behind and hit her on the back of the head!
With a faint groan, nancy sank to the floor unconscious.
How many minutes or hours she may have lain there, the teenage detective had no way of knowing when at last she began to revive. Gradually her eyes fluttered open. Another soft moan escaped her lips as she discovered the full extent of her plight.
Her wrists were tied behind her back – her ankles bound together – and a gag tied tightly across her mouth!
Oh, what a mess! thought Nancy. And I walked right into it with my eyes wide open!
Obviously the man in the brown sedan must have known all along he was being followed. And once having spotted her in his rearview mirror, he cunningly lured her into a trap!
To make matters worse, her head ached slightly. But there was no point in dwelling on her troubles, Nancy realized. The important thing now was to find a way out of her predicament!
Suddenly she became aware of a glow of light along the floor. Nancy had only to roll her eyes to see where it was coming from.
Her flashlight lay where it had fallen! And it was still burning! So evidently she hadn’t been unconscious as long as she feared.
By turning her head, Nancy could see her bag a short distance away from where she was lying. By rolling and twisting, she got close enough to reach it and pry open he clasp behind her back.
Slowly she fumbled through the bag’s contents until she found her nail file. Then Nancy began the tedious process of trying to file and saw through the cords around her wrists.
It was slow, clumsy work. And painful as well. But finally, stiff and perspiring, she had her hands free. Oh, how good it felt to stretch!
Nancy sighed, took off her gag, and rested for a few minutes. Then she started untying the rope binding her ankles. At last, free of all her bonds, she retrieved her flashlight and shoulder bag and stood up – almost faint with eagerness to get out in the open air and sunshine again.
“No need to be quiet now!” Nancy told herself. Returning from the passageway to the main room, she hurried across the dusty floor toward the door by which she had entered the warehouse. But this time, as she turned the handle, it refused
to open.
She was locked in!
“Oh, no,” Nancy muttered in dismay. She went back to the passageway and followed it to the rear of the building. It led to a garage area and a large shuttered door which evidently opened on to a loading dock at the back. But here, too, everything was securely locked.
Heart thumping anxiously, nany retraced her steps to the main room. Only a squeaky noise at her feet warned her in time to avoid treading on a rat that darted across her path. Her skin crawled at the thought!
The only possible way out seemed to be the pair of dirty windows. But they were much too high up to reach.
Nancy screamed for help and pounded on the street door. But there was no response. The warehouse was in such a deserted area it would be a miracle if any passerby heard her!
Nancy’s heart sank as she realized that it might be a long time until she was found. Before help arrived, she could starve to death – or even, she reflected, with a terrified shudder, fall victim to the building’s hungry rats!
12. Library Clue
As she stood in the warehouse fighting despair, nancy stared at the dust-specked beam of sunlight slanting downfrom one of the high windows.
Suddenly she snapped her fingers. She had just remembered seeing a fire detector on the far side wall when she made her first inspection of the warehouse interior.
Groping in her bag, Nancy pulled out a small magnifying glass and a pad of notepaper. She tore off piece, then held the glass so as to focus the sunbeam into a concentrated pinpoint of light and heat.
As soo as the paper began to smolder and burn, nancy hurried over and held it up as close as she could to the fire detector. Almost at once the device actuated an alarm bell!
Nancy dropped the burning paper and stamped it out, prying that the alarm would also register at the nearest fire station, or else that someone would report it.
Within minutes, the clanging bells and wailing sirens of fire engines could be heard coming closer. Soon they halted just outside.
Taking her flashlight, nancy threw it up at one of the windows as hard as she could. With a crash the glass shattered and Nancy began to yell.
“Hey, what’s going on! Who’s in there?” a fireman bellowed.
“I’m locked in!” Nancy cried.
In seconds, the door was smashed open and Nancy dashed out into the sunshine. The firemen listened sympathetically to her story, impressed with her ingenious method of escape.
Almost as if in response to her next thought, a patrol car pulled up to the curb. Nancy recognized one of the policemen in it as Officer Morgan, whom she had met before.
She quickly repeated her story to them while the fire trucks pulled away.
“What did this fake delivery man look like?” asked Officer Morgan’s partner.
Nancy shrugged regretfully. “Sorry, but I never did get a good look at his face.”
However, she described the brown sedan and gave the police its license number. “this may do the trick,” said Officer Morgan, taking down the information. ‘I’ll radio word to headquarters right away!”
“Incidentally,” Nancy asked his partner as Morgan got into the police car again, “do you happen to know who owns this building?”
The officer frowned and scratched his forehead. “Well, I believe it used to be occupied by Shand Trucking Company. But it’s been empty for some time now, so I don’t know whether they still own it or not.”
Nancy mused as she drove home. Once again, it seemed, Simon Shand had entered the picture. On the other hand, the fact that the phony delivery man had used the warehouse as a trap did not necessarily prove that Shand himself was involved. Assuming the driver was a professional crook, once he sensed he was being tailed, he might simply have picked out an obviously empty building and used a picklock or skeleton key to gain entry and set a trap for his pursuer.
As soon as she arrived home, nancy called directory assistance and requested the number of Jack Vernon’s campaign office in Bradley. Then she dialed the number.
A woman campaign worker answered. She explained that the candidate was away from his office, keeping several speaking dates. However, at nancy’s urgent request, she gave the teenager a tentative appointment to see him the following afternoon. “Mind you, I can’t promise Mr. Vernn will talk to you,” the woman cautioned. “he has an awfully busy schedule just now.”
‘Please tell him it’s very important,” said Nancy and hung up before the woman could make any further excuses.
Shortly efore dinner that evening, Police Chief McGinnis telephoned. He reported that the brown sedan had been found abandoned in the street. “But it was a stolen car,” he added, “so finding it doesn’t help much.”
Nor had Kim Vernon been very helpful or cooperative. She claimed to have paid little or no attention to the delivery man’s appearance, and said she had hurled the frightening cobweb racket far out into the river. But she declined to say why it had upset her so much.
“Any luck yet, in identifying that squint-eyed thief with the broken nose?” Nancy inquired.
“Not so far. But we’ll keep trying.”
Nancy’s appointment with Jack Vernon was for three o’clock on Tuesday afternoon. The budding politician had set up his campaign headquarters in an office above a shop in Bradley.
“A pleasure to see you again, Nancy,” he said, rising to greet her.
Nancy quickly told him of Kim’s hysterical reaction to the cobwebbed racket, and her own narrow escape after following the mystery man who had delivered it.
‘So you see,” she concluded, “your sister may be in danger. Frankly, if you know anything that might help, I think it’s your duty to talk.”
The tall, dark-haired young political candidate was clearly upset by the news.. After pacing about the office for a few moments, he nodded anxiously. “All right. But we can’t talk here.”
As he spoke, he shot a worried glance at the outer office, scarcely larger than the one they were in, where several volunteers were stuffing envelopes with brochures for his mail campaign.
“Where would you suggest?” said Nancy.
Vernon pulled thoughtfully on his lower lip. “Tell you what. If you could meet me in Riverside Park tomorrow night, sometime between seven-thirty and eight, we could sit and talk. I’ll be waiting just inside the Park Drive entrance.”
“Good. I’ll be there.” After thanking him and promising to keep anything he told her in strict confidence, Nancy left Jack Vernon’s office.
She planned to eat an early dinner before starting for Oceanview to witness the Footlighters’ performance of A Scream in the Dark at the festival that evening. But after a quick glance at her watch, nancy decided she would have time to stop off at the public library on her way home.
Parking outside the red brick building, nancy went in and began looking through the reference volumes that listed magazine articles several years back. Tonight she might be seeing Renzo Scaglia and Eugene Horvath again, so she thought it might be useful to find out more about Madame Arachne Onides.
Soon she was seated at a table in a quiet alcove with a number of magazines containing pieces about the famous prima donna. Suddenly, turning the page of one magazine, nancy caught her breath. There, in full color, was a close-up photograph of Madame Arachne, and pinned to the front of her gown was a magnificent red gemstone ornament – an ornament that resembled a jeweled spider!
13. Moonlight Island
Once again Nancy made use of her small magnifying glass.. Holding it over the magazine photo, she stared in awe at the jeweled spider.
It appeared to have been crafted from two smooth pigeon’s-blood rubies. The gems, one smaller than the other, were bound together in a silvery figure-8 setting to form the spider’s body. Its eight long legs were crusted with tiny sparkling diamonds.
How beautiful! was Nancy’s first reaction. Her second was, it must have cost a fortune!
Lowering the magnifying glass, she read the caption below t
he picture:
Proud of her Greek heritage, Madame Onides
had this magnificent ruby brooch designed to sym-
bolize her own name. In classic Greek myth,
Arachne was a beautiful maiden whom the God-
dess Athena transformed into a spider. Shortly
before this article went to press, the brooch, valued
at almost half a million dollars, was stolen from
the opera star’s dressing room during a perform-
ance at the Oceanview Festival.
Nancy gasped. A theft at the Oceanview Festival! Could this have been the crime which Renzo Scaglia had challenged her to solve?
Nancy eagerly perused the rest of the magazine article, but could find no further mention of the ruby brooch or the robbery. Nor did any of the other pieces about Madame Arachne cover this subject.
With a sigh, Nancy closed the last of the magazines she had brought to the table and glanced at her wristwatch. To her dismay, it was 4:57!
If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late for the play! she chided herself.
Gathering up the magazines, she turned them in at the desk, then hurried out to her car.
Hannah Gruen emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron as Nancy came rushing into the house. Seeing the teenager’s expression, the motherly woman said, “You’ll have time for some of my meat pie and apple tart, won’t you?”
“Oh, Hannah dear, I don’t think so,” Nancy cried, “I stopped in the library and I forgot to keep an eye on the clock. I’m afraid I’m going to have to dress and run!”
Scampering upstairs, nancy showered and changed intoan ivory-colored silk dress. After a quick touch of comb and brush to her hair, she crammed some toilet articles, nightwear, a change of clothes, and her bathing suit into an overnight bag and hurried down to the front hall, where Hannah Gruen was waiting.
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