Mystery at the Ski Jump

by Carolyn Keene

  The next day Nancy learned from the detective on duty at the Winchester Post Office that Sidney Boyd had not been there. “It’s probably too soon,” she thought.

  At two o’clock Nancy and her friends were again at the nursing home. The nurse they had spoken to the previous afternoon led the girls to a sunny front room on the second floor.

  Mrs. Bellhouse was a fragile old lady with silver hair and faded blue eyes. She smiled as Nancy approached her bed. “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m Nancy Drew, Mrs. Bellhouse, and these are my friends, George Fayne and Bess Marvin.”

  “So young,” murmured the old lady. “Did my relative Sidney Boyd send you? Sidney’s the husband of my dear cousin Elsie.”

  “Are you expecting him today?” Nancy asked.

  “This very afternoon!” Mrs. Bellhouse said. She motioned for Nancy to bend nearer. “I have something for Sidney, but I don’t want that starchy old nurse to know,” she said with a chuckle. “See?”

  The old lady pulled out a drawer of her night table. Under some tissues lay a pile of currency.

  “It’s a thousand dollars!” the woman confided.

  Nancy pretended surprise. “That’s a most generous gift,” she remarked.

  “No such thing,” Mrs. Bellhouse answered.

  “Sidney’s selling me stock in a wonderful fur company. The dividends will end my financial worries.”

  George had posted herself near a front window. When a car parked and a man got out, George gave Nancy a signal and the three girls said a hasty good-by to Mrs. Bellhouse.

  In the hall Nancy said quickly, “George, you go downstairs and call the police. Bess and I will hide in the room that connects with the one Mrs. Bellhouse is in. It’s empty.”

  The girls retreated just as a man with a pencil-thin mustache strode up the stairs and into the woman’s room.

  “Cousin Clara!” he exclaimed.

  Nancy and Bess, watching through a crack in the connecting room, saw Sidney Boyd clasp Mrs. Bellhouse’s hand. “You look well today. Charming! I wish I were free to spend the afternoon with you. However, I’ve brought you the stock certificate.”

  “Sidney, I’ve been thinking of dear Elsie,” Mrs. Bellhouse quavered. “She never let me know when she married you.”

  “I’m sure she did. You’ve probably forgotten,” he said quickly. “Now, before that crabby old nurse comes back—do you have the money?”

  “It’s right here,” said Mrs. Bellhouse.

  “Fine, Cousin Clara. Here’s the stock.” He handed her an envelope. “And I’ll take the money. Wasn’t that easy?”

  Nancy and Bess watched indignantly. Then they heard footsteps behind them. It was George, who tiptoed forward and whispered, “Police on the way!”

  As Boyd started to leave his victim, he cocked his head and listened. An automobile had just stopped in front of the house. The man looked out a window, then ran from the room.

  Nancy followed him as he bolted down the back stairway. “Come on, girls!” she urged.

  The steps were narrow and unlighted. Halfway down, they turned sharply. Here Bess tripped and fell against Nancy, who was just ahead of her.

  “Oh,” Nancy murmured, grasping for the rail and managing to regain her balance.

  George quickly helped Bess to her feet but the delay had given Sidney Boyd a head start. When the girls reached the rear porch of the nursing home, their quarry was nowhere in sight.

  “I’m so sorry,” Bess said tearfully.

  “Never mind,” George said, “but you sure were clumsy,” she chided.

  “Let’s separate and look for him,” Nancy suggested. George dashed around the east side of the house, while Bess raced toward the rear of the grounds,

  Nancy made a beeline for the grove of birches at the west side of the nursing home. She spotted Sidney Boyd crouched behind a clump of saplings.

  The man saw her coming. He jumped up and sprinted toward the road. Nancy, still running, cried out loudly, “Help! Help!”

  Hearing Nancy’s cry, George flagged down the two approaching policemen. “Hurry!” she urged, jumping into their police car. “The thief is down the road, and my friend is chasing him!”

  Boyd now crossed the road and started into a field. The officers left their car and sprinted after the swindler. Within seconds the man was a prisoner.

  “What’s the meaning of this outrage?” he sputtered.

  “You’ll know fast enough,” one of the policemen told him as they walked toward the road where Nancy and George were waiting. “Suppose you listen to this young lady.”

  “Who’s she?” Boyd snapped.

  “I’m Nancy Drew,” the young sleuth spoke up.

  “I never heard of you,” the man said, sneering.

  The policemen, the prisoner, Nancy, and George rode back to the nursing home. Bess was waiting at the entrance.

  “Nancy, I’ve been talking with the nurse,” she said. “We’d better not tell Mrs. Bellhouse about this—the police can give her her money back somehow. If she knew the stock is worthless she might have another attack.”

  “What do you mean—worthless?” Boyd demanded.

  “You know there’s no Forest Fur Company,” George said, “and Dunstan Lake, Vermont, isn’t on the map.”

  Boyd smiled coyly. “If there’s anything phony about the Forest Fur Company, that’s not my fault. I’m merely a broker, and I find this news quite shocking.”

  “There’s a warrant out for your arrest,” said one of the policemen. “Let’s go!”

  The other officer turned to Nancy and said, “I’d like you to follow us.”

  At the Winchester police station, the captain praised Nancy for her fine detective work. “Miss Drew,” he said, taking a piece of paper from his desk, “I think you’ll be interested in this. The arresting officers recovered it from Boyd’s pocket, along with the thousand dollars he took from the woman in the rest home. It’s part of the reason that fellow’s behind bars now.”

  The letter, postmarked New York, read:Dear Sid,

  Tell the boss to come across with some pay or there won’t be any more stock printed.

  Ben

  “That’s clear evidence,” Nancy said. Returning the paper, she added, “I haven’t heard of Ben.”

  The captain smiled. “We know now that the fur stock is printed in New York and that Boyd is definitely one of the gang. I’ll have the New York police trace Ben.”

  “I’ll appreciate it if you’ll let me know what comes of this,” Nancy said, and told the captain good-by. She returned to her car, where Bess and George were waiting.

  “Hypers!” George exclaimed. “You were in there so long we thought we might have to bail you out!”

  As Nancy drove toward River Heights, she told her friends what had happened.

  “It seems to me this case is pretty well cracked,” said George. “Don’t you think you need a vacation, Nancy?”

  Nancy’s eyes twinkled. “Good idea,” she said. “How would you like to go to Aunt Eloise’s lodge in the Adirondacks? She has a vacation coming up. Maybe she’d come with us”

  “Why, we’d freeze up there!” Bess exclaimed.

  “It’s between semesters at Emerson,” Nancy pointed out, ignoring the protest. “We could invite the boys.”

  The girls began making enthusiastic plans. Suddenly Bess exclaimed, “I’ll bet there’s something behind this idea of yours. Does it have to do with the fur mystery?”

  “Could be,” Nancy admitted. “Remember, Aunt Eloise first heard of Dunstan Lake when she was at her summer home. It’s possible the gang has headquarters in that vicinity.”

  “And you want to add detectives Ned Nickerson, Dave Evans, and Burt Eddleton to your investigation squad!” George declared.

  “Exactly,” Nancy admitted. “Suppose you come to my house while I phone Aunt Eloise. I hope we can start day after tomorrow.”

  Bess looked worried. “What if the boys can’t go? It wo
uldn’t be safe up there without some men. The Adirondacks are full of bears.”

  “Who sleep all winter!” George hooted.

  Nancy laughed. “There probably won’t be anything more dangerous than a few minks.”

  “But the stock swindlers—” Bess began.

  “No need to worry yet,” Nancy advised. “First, I must ask Aunt Eloise if she can go.”

  CHAPTER XIII

  The House Party

  NANCY telephoned at once to her aunt. Eloise Drew readily agreed to act as hostess for a house party. “I never dreamed that my clue about Dunstan Lake would bring such an interesting vacation!” she said.

  “My hunch may be wrong,” Nancy warned. “But we’ll have fun, anyway.”

  “Suppose you pick me up at the station in York Village near camp,” her aunt suggested. “I’ll arrive there at three-thirty.”

  Bess and George hung over Nancy’s shoulder as she said good-by, and then placed a call to Emerson College. The three boys were enthusiastic about a trip to the Adirondacks. Burt said they could take his family’s station wagon.

  “Wonderful,” said Nancy. “But we’d better have two cars, so I’ll take mine, too.”

  The boys said they could stay only a few days, however, since they had only a short vacation between semesters.

  This news made Bess pout. When the long-distance conversation was over, she complained, “That’s not much time to solve a mystery and have some fun, too!”

  Everybody was excited about the excursion to the Adirondacks except Hannah Gruen. The housekeeper worried about possible accidents on the icy roads and a blizzard that might keep them snowbound. “And then you don’t know the ways of the woods in the wintertime.”

  “Hannah,” Nancy said, “would you feel happier if someone like John Horn was around to guide us?”

  “I certainly would,” Hannah answered. “And I’m sure your father would too.”

  That evening Nancy and Mr. Drew went over to call on John Horn, who had just returned from his ice-fishing trip.

  To Nancy’s delight, the trapper verified Chuck Wilson’s story about his ill-tempered uncle. He told of several incidents which had made him suspicious that the elder Wilson was helping himself to certain funds and not making an accounting of them to the Probate Court.

  “But I never could prove it,” the trapper said.

  “You’ve been very helpful,” the lawyer told him. “And I may call on you to be a witness.”

  Before the Drews left, Nancy made her request about the trip. The elderly man’s eyes glistened.

  “You couldn’t ’a’ asked me anything I’d ruther do,” he beamed. “But I won’t ride in any of them motor contraptions. No sir-ree. The train for me. And I’ll mush in from the station at York. I was brought up on snowshoes.”

  “Your going relieves my mind,” Mr. Drew said, and added with a laugh, “Keep my daughter from making any ski jumps after those thieves, will you?”

  John Horn chuckled. “Don’t you worry. I’ll pick up their tracks in the snow and call the police while your daughter’s off gallivantin’ with the young folks.”

  Two mornings later the young people began their trip. With skis, poles, snowshoes, and suitcases in their cars, the girls dressed in colorful ski clothes and the boys in Mackinaws and fur caps, their group resembled a polar expedition.

  “Too bad that old trapper wouldn’t let us give him a lift,”said Ned as he joined Nancy in the convertible.

  “Oh, John Horn’s like that. A mind of his own and very independent.” Nancy laughed. “When I asked him to help find those swindlers, the old fellow became really excited. Patted his hunting rifle and announced that he intended to snare the varmints!”

  For the next three hours everything went well for the travelers. The station wagon followed close behind the convertible. Then, as they reached the foothills of the Adirondacks and began to climb, the roads became icy and the drivers were obliged to decrease their speed to a bare crawl.

  Nancy frowned. “I’m worried about Aunt Eloise,” she confessed to Ned. “Her train reaches York Village at three-thirty and she’s expecting us to pick her up.”

  “York? That’s where we buy the supplies for camp, isn’t it?” Ned asked.

  “Yes, I’d hoped to get there in time for us to shop before Aunt Eloise arrives.”

  At that moment a series of loud toots behind them caused Nancy to slow down and look around. “Oh dear! Burt’s car has skidded into a ditch!” She groaned. “We’ll have to pull it out.”

  It took half an hour and considerable huffing and puffing on everybody’s part to haul the station wagon back onto the road. When it was once more on its way, Burt realized that the steering gear needed attention. He signaled to Nancy and drove forward to tell her they must stop at the first town and have it adjusted.

  Nancy nodded. “Suppose Ned and I go ahead and leave the food order at the general store. You pick it up. We’ll drive Aunt Eloise to camp and start a fire.”

  Soon the convertible was again on its way. At the store Nancy ordered ham, eggs, slabs of bacon, meat, huge roasting potatoes, bread, fresh fruit, and other necessities.

  “Friends of mine will call for the order in a station wagon,” Nancy explained to the proprietor.

  “Come on. We’d better hurry,” Ned warned. “I can hear the train pulling in.”

  He and Nancy dashed to the station, half expecting to see John Horn alight as well as Eloise Drew. But the trapper was not aboard.

  “Hello, Ned!” Miss Drew greeted him, after she embraced her niece. “And where are the rest of my guests?” she inquired.

  “They were delayed,” said Nancy. “A little trouble with Burt’s station wagon. We’re to go on ahead.”

  “I’m glad we’re starting at once,” Miss Drew observed. “In an hour it will be dark. And that narrow, snowy road leading to my place can be very hazardous.”

  Nancy and Ned helped Aunt Eloise into the convertible and they began the long climb to the lodge. The road was indeed deep in snow and Ned had to drive very slowly. All were relieved to see the house.

  “Look at that snow!” Aunt Eloise exclaimed. “Why, it’s halfway up the door.”

  “Are there any shovels in the garage?” Ned asked as he climbed out of the car.

  “Burt’s car has skidded into a ditch!” Nancy cried out

  “I think so,” Miss Drew answered.

  Ned struggled around the corner of the house to the garage. He came back swinging a shovel and started clearing a path. Soon the station wagon arrived.

  “Reinforcements are here,” Dave and Burt announced.

  In a few minutes they were carrying in the suitcases. The girls and Aunt Eloise followed, shivering in the huge, icy living room.

  “We can soon have some heat,” Aunt Eloise said, taking swift charge of the situation. “Boys, there’s plenty of wood in the shed out back. Suppose you start a roaring fire in the grate.”

  “Girls,” said Nancy, “let’s bring in those groceries from the station wagon.”

  “Groceries?” Bess gaped.

  Nancy’s heart sank. “Bess! George!” she gasped. “Didn’t you remember to stop for the food? Didn’t Burt tell you?”

  The blank consternation on her friends’ faces was answer enough.

  Tired and hungry, the campers had to face it. There was no food in the house!

  CHAPTER XIV

  The Fur Thief

  “CHEER UP!” Aunt Eloise encouraged her guests. “The situation isn’t too black. I left a few canned staples in the pantry here. If you don’t object to beans—”

  “Beans! Oh, welcome word!” cried Bess, rolling her eyes ecstatically. “I’m ravenous enough to eat tacks.”

  “Then you’ll have to earn your supper,” George said firmly. “Get a mop. This place must be cleaned before we eat.”

  In the midst of their tidying the cottage a knock came on the door. John Horn walked in. The old fellow looked ruddy and fit after his tre
k on snowshoes. He explained that he had come up the day before and was camping out in the hills Indian style. When they told him of their predicament about food, he looked amused.

  “Shucks, nobody here need go hungry.” He chuckled. “I shot some rabbits on the way. I’ll bring ’em in and give you folks a real treat!”

  After consuming the nourishing beans and John Horn’s delicious rabbit, cooked on a spit in the fireplace, everyone felt satisfied and content. Then, gathering around him, Aunt Eloise and her guests listened for two hours to the old trapper’s yarns. Later, when Nancy asked him if he had found out anything about Dunstan Lake, he shook his head.

  “Nope. Nobody I met ever heard of the man, Nancy. Nor of that Forest Fur Company, either. But they say there’s three mink ranches around here owned by outside folks.”

  Suddenly Eloise Drew snapped her fingers. “I just recalled that I heard the name Dunstan Lake twice. The second time was last summer at the Longview Inn five miles from here. I was leaving the dining room when I overheard a woman mention the name.”

  “Maybe it’s another clue,” Nancy spoke up. “I think I’ll go over there right after breakfast tomorrow and speak to the manager. I’d like to hike over. Could I make it on snowshoes, Mr. Horn?”

  “Oh, sure—that is, if you got good muscles, and you look as if you do. Well, folks,” the trapper said, rising, “I’ll be on my way.”

  He would not accept a bunk with the boys and went off whistling in the darkness. The house-party guests rolled wearily into bed and slept soundly.

  Next morning the prospect of a second meal of beans for breakfast had little appeal for the campers. At Nancy’s suggestion the young people tramped down to the frozen lake, resolved to try some ice fishing.

  The boys hacked a hole in the ice fifty feet from shore and carefully lowered several lines with baited hooks. But although they waited patiently, there was not a bite.

  “I guess we’ll eat beans—and like it,” George groaned.

  “Hal-loo there! What you doin’? Lookin’ for a walrus?” called a voice from the shore.

  They turned to see John Horn standing there with a heavy pack on his back. The old trapper explained that he had risen before daylight and gone down to York Village.