The Clue in the Old Stagecoach

by Carolyn Keene

  “First some information,” she said, returning the smile. “Then a few cosmetics.”

  She described the intruder at the Pauling estate, and without revealing the warning he had given her, told of his dislike for newcomers in the area. “Have you any idea who he might be?”

  The druggist, Mr. Benfield, did not hesitate in his answer. “That sounds exactly like Judd Hillary. He’s a bachelor and dislikes children. Furthermore, he has no use for city people and especially the ones who have moved into this community recently. He declares they’re causing too many changes in our quiet little village.”

  “Would you call him a dangerous individual?” Nancy asked, chuckling.

  “Oh, no, I’d just say queer—very queer.” Despite this reassurance, Nancy still felt a little worried. She could not forget Judd Hillary’s glare of hate or his angry warning. She asked Mr. Benfield if there were many people in the community who felt the same as Mr. Hillary did.

  “There are some. He’s sort of a self-appointed chairman of the group. All of them complain about the raising of our taxes and the fact that the town will be bankrupt if we try to build a new school. It is true that we cannot afford the school, yet we badly need one. To accommodate all the children this fall it will be necessary to run classes from eight in the morning until six at night, and frankly I don’t know how long our teachers are going to be able to stand this. And our money will certainly run out by spring.”

  “That’s a shame,” said Nancy and added with a smile, “I suppose your only solution is to have some good fairy leave a lot of money here.”

  “That’s about the size of it,” Mr. Benfield agreed.

  To herself Nancy said, “Oh, I hope I can be the one to bring that windfall to Francisville!”

  She bought a new compact, two tiny bottles of perfume for Bess and George, and some paper handkerchiefs. Then, thanking the druggist for his information, she left the shop.

  Nancy drove directly to Camp Merriweather. When she reached her room, the young sleuth noticed that Bess and George were seated glumly in the adjoining bedroom. Quickly she went in and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Bess heaved a tremendous sigh and George said, her words clipped and showing deep annoyance, “The sports director had drawings this morning for the tennis tournament. Bess and I decided to go into the doubles. We picked two names out of the grab bag. One guess.”

  “Not Ross and Audrey Monteith!” Nancy exclaimed.

  “Nobody else,” George replied. “Can you imagine such luck!”

  “I’m so mad I don’t even want to talk about it,” Bess spoke up. “Nancy, tell us what you found out.”

  She and George listened attentively to the whole story. When Nancy reached the part about Judd Hillary’s warning, both girls frowned.

  “Oh, Nancy, maybe you’d better give up this mystery,” Bess said fearfully. “At first it was fun. Now it sounds positively sinister.”

  “Mr. Benfield, the druggist in Francisville, thinks Judd Hillary is just queer, not dangerous. I see no reason why he and I should ever meet again.”

  “Why, Nancy,” said George admonishingly, “don’t you realize that Judd Hillary somehow found out about your interest in helping the town of Francisville and followed you to Mrs. Pauling’s?”

  Nancy looked startled. “George, believe it or not, I didn’t think of that. And you’re absolutely right. Well, I promise you both I’ll watch my step. If I forget, you two just reach out and grab me.”

  She went on to say that the following morning she and the cousins ought to be on hand to see the old stagecoach dissected. “If we find the clue, then we shan’t have to worry any more about Judd Hillary, anyway.”

  The three girls had an early lunch, then a little later Nancy went to play tennis with Rick Larrabee, who had pulled her name out of the grab bag, he said. She looked at him, her eyes twinkling merrily; she had not put her own name in! Realizing Nancy had guessed the truth, Rick told her that he had not entered the tournament either.

  “Just for that little joke I’ll beat you!” Nancy said. “Then later we’ll watch the doubles match between Bess and George and the Monteiths.”

  Nancy and Rick were pretty evenly matched. He won the first game. She took the second and third, he the next two. Points were hard fought, and every game went to deuce until the score was six all. Then Nancy crawled ahead and finally won eight to six.

  “Congrats!” Rick said, coming to the net and shaking hands with her.

  The doubles match between Bess and George and the Monteiths was just about to start. A good-sized crowd had gathered to watch it, knowing that all the players were excellent. There were cheers and groans from the side lines as the match progressed. Few people at the lodge liked the Monteiths and most of the onlookers were secretly hoping that they would be badly trounced.

  But Ross and Audrey were skillful players. Game after game went forty all. George and Bess found themselves using every type of strategy they knew to win. Each side took a set and the third started as a real battle. Then Ross and Audrey began to tighten up. This proved to be their undoing. Bess and George won the set by a score of six to two!

  The hand clapping was loud. The special friends whom the girls had made at Camp Merriweather rushed up to hug or congratulate the winners. Ross and Audrey Monteiths’ faces were flushed and angry. They shook hands listlessly with the winners. Finding they were receiving no attention, the two finally left the court.

  As Nancy, Bess, and George walked back together toward the lodge, Nancy said, “I’m terribly thrilled about the outcome and I wouldn’t want you to miss the rest of the tournament for anything. But this may mean that you won’t be able to help me solve the mystery.”

  George looked at her chum accusingly. “Why, Nancy Drew, do you think we’d walk out on you? The athletic director who is running this tournament will certainly understand and let us play when you don’t need us. If he won’t—why, we’ll default if necessary!”

  Nancy was thrilled by her friends’ loyalty and said she hoped the schedules could be arranged so the girls could go on to win the tournament.

  “You asked us to be with you tomorrow morning,” George said. “And I want to be there myself when that old stagecoach is taken apart. You girls go ahead upstairs. I’m going to try to set up things. See you in a few minutes.”

  When she arrived upstairs, George told them, “Everything’s fine with the committee. Bess and I will play again tomorrow afternoon.”

  The three girls started off early the next morning in Nancy’s convertible. Instead of going directly to Mrs. Pauling’s home, Nancy decided to take a narrow lane leading to the road on which John O’Brien probably would be towing the old stagecoach, and join him. Reaching it, they waited a little while for the trucker to come along. When he did not arrive, Bess suggested that probably he had been ahead of them.

  “No doubt you’re right,” said Nancy. “We’d better go on.”

  When they reached the estate, they found Mrs. Pauling standing in front of the house. Nancy introduced her friends, then asked if the stagecoach had arrived.

  “Not yet,” Mrs. Pauling answered. “And I can’t understand it. John O’Brien is usually very prompt. He’s already an hour late.”

  She took her callers out to the garden patio and they sat down on the porch to chat. Half an hour went by and still the trucker did not come.

  Mrs. Pauling, nervous about the delay, called the office of the Bridgeford restoration project and learned that John O’Brien had left the place hours before with the old stagecoach.

  “Something has happened!” Bess said nervously when she heard the report.

  Just then the telephone rang and Mrs. Pauling answered it. The girls could plainly hear a man’s deep voice at the other end of the wire.

  “Mrs. Pauling, this is John O’Brien. I—I have bad news for you. The old stagecoach has been hijacked!”

  CHAPTER V

  Three Sleuths

  “HIJACKED
!” Nancy murmured in disbelief.

  Mrs. Pauling held the telephone receiver partly away from her ear, so that Nancy and her friends could hear the rest of what John O’Brien was reporting.

  “I was towing the old stagecoach along a deserted road,” he said, “when two masked men jumped out from among some trees and boarded the truck. They shut off the motor and dragged me to the ground. They bound and gagged me, and left me in the woods. Then the two of them unfastened the tow chain and went off with the stagecoach.”

  “How terrible!” Bess said.

  “After they’d gone around a bend,” the trucker went on, “I heard a motor start up, so I guess the men went off in either a car or a truck and took the old stagecoach with them.

  “After a while I managed to get free and drove along the road looking for them, but they were gone. I stopped at the first farmhouse I came to—it’s called Brookside. That’s where I am now. Mrs. Pauling, I’m mighty sorry about the whole thing. What do you want me to do?”

  “This is preposterous!” Mrs. Pauling exclaimed. “It wasn’t your fault of course, John. Hold the phone a moment and I’ll let you know what to do.”

  Mrs. Pauling put her hand over the mouthpiece and consulted the girls. She said that she did not know what to tell John, but that she supposed someone should notify the police at once.

  “Yes,” Nancy replied. “Why don’t you tell him to do that and please ask him to wait where he is. I’d like to dash over there and make a search of the area for clues.”

  Mrs. Pauling nodded and requested the trucker to do this. Then she put the phone back into its cradle and gave a great sigh. By this time Nancy, Bess, and George, eager to be off, were ready to say good-by.

  When they reached the Brookside farmhouse where John O’Brien was waiting, they found two state policemen already talking to him. The trucker introduced the girls, and told of their interest in the old stagecoach.

  John O’Brien then went on with his story. “Both the men who grabbed me were tall fellows. One had blond hair, the other was dark. They didn’t say a word, so I wouldn’t recognize their voices.”

  “Did you notice anything else that would identify them?” asked Officer Gavin.

  “Yes,” John replied. “The dark-haired fellow had a slantwise scar across his left wrist. And the blond man, I’d say, is either a sailor now or has been one. He tied me with nautical knots.”

  “You sure were lucky to get yourself untied,” remarked Officer Starr. “We’ll radio in the full report right away and then start a search for those two hijackers.”

  While the state trooper was calling from his car, John O’Brien told the other officer that Nancy was an amateur detective. Gavin smiled and asked if she had any theory regarding the theft of the old stagecoach.

  On her guard, Nancy smiled and countered with, “I understand there are a good many people in this area who are opposed to newcomers who are making changes and causing higher taxes. If this is true in Francisville, might it also be true regarding Bridgeford?”

  Officer Gavin looked at Nancy searchingly. Then his eyes twinkled. “Is that a genuine guess on your part, Miss Drew, or are you keeping your real theory to yourself?”

  Nancy’s only answer was a laugh. When State Policeman Starr finished his report, he suggested that he and Gavin start their search.

  “Do you mind if we follow you?” Nancy asked.

  “Not at all,” Gavin answered. “But I suggest that you stay a fair distance behind us in case we run into any trouble.”

  “I understand,” Nancy replied. She climbed in. behind the wheel of her convertible as Bess and George slid in from the other side.

  John O’Brien went back as far as the spot where he had been attacked. Then the officers excused him and he headed for Bridgeford.

  The wheel tracks of the old stagecoach were visible only as far as the place where John O’Brien had heard the motor start up. Here the troopers found crosswise marks in the dirt. Officer Gavin said they indicated that planks had been set up from the road to the rear of a truck. Apparently the stagecoach had been pushed up this runway onto the larger vehicle and taken away.

  The tire marks of the truck were easily traced to a hard-surface road some distance ahead. Here they turned to the right, then they mingled with the tracks of other trucks and cars.

  Presently Officer Starr, who was driving the policemen’s car, signaled that he was going to stop. Nancy pulled up behind him at the side of the road. He came back to speak to her.

  “We figure the old stagecoach was probably carried in a closed truck or van, but if it was an open vehicle, maybe someone can give us a clue. A quarter of a mile down the road there’s a new development. We’re going to inquire at each house along the road for a mile to find out if anyone noticed the old stagecoach. If you girls would like to help, suppose you ask at the houses on the right side. Officer Gavin and I will take the left.”

  Nancy was pleased to have the assignment and quickly accepted it. When they reached the settlement, she stopped in front of the second house on the right. George ran up to inquire at the first home, Bess to the third, while Nancy took the one in the center. None of the occupants answered their doorbells.

  The policemen had no better luck across the street, so the two groups of inquirers moved on down the road. The same procedure followed. This time two of the residents were at home but neither of them had seen an open truck with an old stagecoach on it.

  “Not a single clue,” Officer Gavin said in disgust.

  After the mile had been covered, each group reported failure to learn anything. The policemen thanked the girls and said they would take care of further questioning themselves.

  “We’ll be in touch with Mrs. Pauling to hear what you find out,” Nancy told them.

  Turning her car around, the young sleuth started back in the direction from which they had come. George demanded an explanation.

  “I’m positive,” said Nancy, “that those hijackers never came this far. It would be risky carrying the stagecoach for long on a public highway. I want to follow a hunch of mine; that is, the two hijackers went off this main road, taking the stagecoach with them. They may even have unloaded it and dragged it into the woods.”

  George was inclined to agree with Nancy and added, “Which side road are you going to pick, Nancy?”

  “The first one those hijackers came to after they turned into the main road.”

  When Nancy reached the woods road from which they had emerged a little earlier, she once more turned the car around, then drove very slowly. The three girls watched intently for a little-used side road.

  They had gone scarcely a thousand feet when Bess called out that she could see a trail through a wooded area. “It’s probably a bridle path.”

  Nancy had already stopped. Bess and George quickly stepped from the car and hurried into the woods.

  Within a few seconds George called back, “I think this is the road all right. Here are wheel tracks and footprints!”

  Nancy locked the car, pocketed the key, and hurried after the cousins. The three excited sleuths almost ran along the bridle trail in their eagerness to find the old stagecoach.

  Suddenly Bess stopped short. “We’ve gone far enough to prove our point,” she declared. “I think we should go back and tell the state police. I certainly don’t want to meet those hijackers!”

  “I can’t say that I do myself,” Nancy replied. “On the other hand, we’re only guessing that these wheel tracks belong to the old stagecoach. I think we should have more proof. Those hijackers may have taken the old stagecoach so they can hack it apart and find the clue. I’m convinced that Mr. Langstreet’s secret has leaked out somehow. If we can possibly keep the antique vehicle from being destroyed, I’d certainly like to do it.”

  “I would too,” said George. “Come on!”

  Bess followed reluctantly. Less than a quarter of a mile ahead, the girls found themselves at the edge of a treeless cliff. Here the bridle trai
l veered off down the wooded slope. The girls paused and looked toward the foot of the cliff.

  “There it is!” George cried exultantly.

  Below them was the stolen stagecoach, intact! It was lying on one side.

  “It isn’t smashed, thank goodness,” said George. “All those hijackers wanted to do was to get rid of it. But why?”

  Nancy did not try to answer the question. She was not sure that she agreed with George. Bess again showed fear and insisted that the three girls leave and report to the police.

  “Let’s split up,” Nancy suggested. “Bess, you take my car key and go back for officers Gavin and Starr. If you can’t find them, get two others. George and I will go down this hillside and see what we can find out about the stagecoach.” She handed the key to Bess.

  “I don’t like this arrangement,” Bess said, “but I’ll do it. And please be careful!”

  “We’ll stay among the trees alongside the bridle trail just to make you happy,” George promised her cousin.

  Bess went off, running at top speed. Nancy and George carefully descended the wooded hillside. On the way they neither saw nor heard anyone.

  “I’d certainly like to get a close look at the old stagecoach,” George whispered. “Do you think we dare?”

  Nancy suggested that they wait a few minutes. Then, if they saw no sign of anyone, they would go into the open and find out what they could about the overturned vehicle. Ten minutes went by. Complete silence. Nancy signaled to George that they would proceed.

  Just as the two girls walked up to the old stagecoach, a man’s deep voice commanded harshly, “Stand where you are!”

  CHAPTER VI

  Police Assistance

  THEIR hearts pounding, Nancy and George stood stock-still. Though both had been startled by the command from the unseen speaker, the girls tried not to show any fear.