Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgements
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I - A Mysterious Message
CHAPTER II - The First Clue
CHAPTER III - Tracking a Thief
CHAPTER IV - A Strange Adventure
CHAPTER V - The Figure in White
CHAPTER VI - A New Lead
CHAPTER VII - Matching Wits
CHAPTER VIII - The Ghost at the Organ
CHAPTER IX - Another Séance
CHAPTER X - The Secret Door
CHAPTER XI - The Tunnel Room
CHAPTER XII - Nancy’s Plan
CHAPTER XIII - Complications
CHAPTER XIV - The Cabin in the Woods
CHAPTER XV - Two Disappearances
CHAPTER XVI - A Well-Baited Trap
CHAPTER XVII - Breaking a Spell
CHAPTER XVIII - Startling Developments
CHAPTER XIX - Trapped!
CHAPTER XX - A Hidden Discovery
THE GHOST OF BLACKWOOD HALL
WHEN Mrs. Putney seeks Nancy Drew’s help in recovering her stolen jewelry, the search for the thieves takes the teen-age detective and her friends Bess and George to the colorful French Quarter in New Orleans. But the quest is hampered by the strange behavior of Mrs. Putney and two young women who are being victimized by so-called spirits. How can Nancy fight these unseen perpetrators of a cruel hoax? And how can she help the gullible victims when the spirits warn them not to have anything to do with Nancy?
The young sleuth’s investigations lead her to a deserted old mansion haunted by a phantom organist. How Nancy uses her own ghostlike tactics to outwit the ghost of Blackwood Hall and aids the police in capturing a group of sinister racketeers will keep the reader tense with suspense.
The ghostly figure was wading deeper into the water
Acknowledgement is made to Mildred Wirt Benson, who under the pen name Carolyn Keene, wrote the original NANCY DREW books
Copyright© 1995, 1967, 1948 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam & Grosset Group,
New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A. NANCY DREW MYSTERY STORIES® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster,
eISBN : 978-1-101-07726-9
http://us.penguingroup.com
CHAPTER I
A Mysterious Message
“IF I ever try to solve a mystery with a ghost in it, I’ll use a smart cat to help me!” Nancy Drew remarked laughingly. “Cats aren’t afraid of ghosts. Did you know that, Togo?”
Laying aside the book of exciting ghost stories which she had been reading, the slim, titianhaired girl reached down to pat Togo, her fox terrier. But, as if startled or annoyed by her words, he scrambled up and began to bark.
“Quiet, Togo!” ordered Hannah Gruen, the family housekeeper, from the living-room archway. “What’s wrong with you?”
But Togo, hearing the sound of a car door slamming, braced his legs, cocked his head, and barked more excitedly than ever. An automobile had stopped in front of the house, and a middle-aged man was hurrying up the walk.
“It’s Mr. Freeman, the jeweler,” said Nancy in surprise.
A moment later the doorbell rang sharply, and Nancy hastened to open the door.
“I can’t stay long,” Mr. Freeman said, speaking rapidly. “I shouldn’t have left the jewelry store to come here, only it’s important!”
“But Dad isn’t at home, Mr. Freeman.”
“I came to see you, Nancy. I want you to help an old customer and friend.”
The jeweler indicated the parked car. “Mrs. Putney is out there waiting. I tried to get her to talk to the police, but she refused. She won’t even tell me all the details of the theft—says there’s a good reason why she must keep the matter to herself.”
By now, Nancy’s curiosity was aroused. “Please bring Mrs. Putney in,” she said. “If there is some way I can help her, I certainly will. But if she is unwilling to talk—”
“She’ll tell you everything,” the jeweler advised in a low voice. “You see, you’re a girl.”
“What has that got to do with it?”
“You’ll find out,” the jeweler said mysteriously. “Mrs. Putney is a widow. She lives alone and is considered rather odd by her neighbors. I’ve known her for years, however, and she’s a fine woman. She needs our help.”
Before Nancy could ask why she needed help, he ran back to the car. After a brief conversation, the woman emerged and the jeweler led her up the walk to the house.
“This is Mrs. Henry Putney, Nancy,” Mr. Freeman introduced her, adding, “Nancy Drew is the best amateur detective in River Heights.”
From her father, Carson Drew, an outstanding criminal lawyer, Nancy had inherited both courage and keen intelligence. The first case Nancy had worked on with her father was The Secret of the Old Clock.
Recently she had solved the mystery of The Clue in the Old Album. Although only eighteen years old, Nancy’s ability was so well known that anyone in River Heights, who was in trouble, was likely to seek her assistance.
Stepping aside so that the caller might enter the living room, Nancy studied Mrs. Putney curiously. She was a woman well past middle age, and the black of her smartly cut dress accentuated the thinness of her body. Her expression was sad, and in the faded eyes there was a faraway look which made Nancy vaguely uneasy.
Mrs. Gruen greeted the newcomers, chatted a few moments, then tactfully withdrew. Nancy waited eagerly for the callers to reveal the purpose of their visit.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Mrs. Putney said, nervously twisting a handkerchief. “No one can help me, I’m sure.”
“Nancy Drew can,” the jeweler declared. Then from a deep pocket of his coat, he withdrew a leather case which bore traces of dried mud.
He opened the case and displayed a sizable collection of rings, necklaces, and pins. He held up a string of pearls to examine.
“Clever imitations, every one!” announced the jeweler. “When Mrs. Putney brought them to me to be cleaned, I advised her to go at once to the police.”
“I can’t do that,” Mrs. Putney replied. “There must be no publicity.”
“Suppose you tell me everything,” Nancy suggested.
“You promise never to reveal what I am about to tell you?” her visitor asked anxiously.
“Of course, if that is your wish.”
Mrs. Putney looked at the jeweler. “I cannot speak in your presence,” she said haltingly. “I was warned never to tell any man or woman of this matter.”
“That’s why I brought you to a girl detective,” the jeweler said quickly, directing a significant glance at Nancy. “You’ll be breaking no confidence in telling Nancy everything. And now I must be getting back to the store.”
Bidding them good-by, he left the two together. Satisfied, Mrs. Putney began her story.
“I’m all alone now. My husband died a few months ago,” she revealed. “Since then I have had strange premonitions. Shortly after my husband passed away, I had an overpowering feeling the house was to be robbed.”
“Clever imitations, every one!” the jeweler announced
“And it was?” inquired Nancy.
“No, but I did a very foolish thing. I gathered all the family jewels, put the collection in this leather case, and buried it.”
“Somewhere on your grounds?”
“No, in a secluded clearing in the woods about ten miles from here.”
Nancy was amazed that a woman of Mrs. Putney’s apparent intelligence should commit such a foolish act. However, she remained silen
t.
“I decided I’d been unwise, so this morning I went there and dug up the leather case,” Mrs. Putney continued. “Then I took the collection to Mr. Freeman to have the pieces cleaned. The moment he saw them he said they were fake.”
“Someone stole the real jewelry?”
“Yes, and substituted these copies. I prized my husband’s ring above all. It breaks my heart to lose that.”
“This is a case for the police,” Nancy began, only to have Mrs. Putney cut her short.
“Oh, no! The police must learn nothing about what happened!”
Nancy regarded the woman intently. “Why are you so opposed to talking to anyone except me?” she asked.
“Well, I’m afraid if I call in the police there will be a lot of publicity.”
“Is that your real reason, Mrs. Putney?” Nancy was certain that the widow was deliberately with holding the truth. “If I am to help you, I must know everything.”
After a pause Mrs. Putney, speaking in a whisper, said, “One night, several weeks ago, my dear husband’s spirit came to me. I awoke, or thought I did, and heard a far-off voice. I’m sure it was Henry’s. He instructed me to bury the jewels in a place which he described in minute detail and warned me never to reveal to any man or woman that he had told me to do it. Otherwise he would never permit me to hear from him again.”
“But he didn’t say anything about not telling a girl?” Nancy asked.
“No. That is why I risked coming to you. I need your help desperately. Oh, I hope my coming won’t spoil everything!”
Nancy, who did not believe in ghosts or spirits, nevertheless respected Mrs. Putney’s belief and was diplomatic in her reply.
“I’m sure that coming to me will not spoil anything,” she said. “You must have been robbed by someone who saw you hiding your jewelry, and who knew its value.”
“But I told no one my plan.”
“I’d like to see the place where you buried the leather case. Why don’t we drive out there now in my car?”
“If you like,” the widow agreed halfheartedly.
Nancy explained to Mrs. Gruen that she would be gone for an hour or so. Nancy’s mother was not living. For many years, the Drew household had been efficiently run by Hannah Gruen, who had been with the family so long that she was regarded as one of them. She loved Nancy as a daughter, and worried a great deal about her whenever the young detective undertook to solve a mystery.
Taking Togo along, Nancy and Mrs. Putney drove through the countryside to the edge of a dense woods which bordered the highway. At Mrs. Putney’s direction, Nancy turned down a narrow side road, crossed an old-fashioned covered bridge, and finally parked beneath an arch of thickly interlaced tree limbs.
As the two alighted, a gentle breeze rippled Nancy’s hair and stirred the leaves overhead. The rustling in the branches seemed to make Togo uneasy. He pricked up his ears and began to growl.
“Quiet, Togo!” Nancy ordered. “You’d better stay in the car,” she added, raising the windows part way. “You might race off into the woods.”
“Follow me,” Mrs. Putney directed, setting off through a path that curved among the tall trees.
The widow reached a small clearing a few hundred yards from the roadside and halted. Without speaking, she pointed to the center of a grassy place where a section of earth had been dug up.
Nancy glanced around carefully. On all sides, the clearing was shielded by a dense growth of bushes. Quickly she set about inspecting the spot where the leather case had been buried.
The ground was soft, for it had rained hard during the night. If there had been footprints other than those of Mrs. Putney, they had been washed away.
As Nancy straightened up, she heard a car pass along the road. It slowed as if the driver intended to stop, then speeded on.
Nancy continued systematically to search the area for evidence. She was about to abandon the task when her gaze fell upon a scrap of paper which had snagged at the base of a thorny bush. Picking it up, Nancy noticed that it was a page torn from a catalog. On one side was the advertisement :
“BEAUTIFUL LIGHTS, $10.00.” On the other, “No ASSISTANTS.”
Doubtful as to the value of the find, Nancy nevertheless slipped the paper into her purse. As she did so, her eyes came to rest upon a long, shiny piece of metal a few feet away.
Before she could pick it up, an agonized scream cut through the silent woods!
CHAPTER II
The First Clue
NANCY whirled around and was relieved to see that Mrs. Putney was safe. The bloodcurdling scream must have come from the road.
“What was that?” The widow was trembling.
“Someone’s in trouble!” Nancy exclaimed. “It was a woman’s voice!”
Nancy began running in the direction of the road. Mrs. Putney followed as fast as she could.
Out of breath, Nancy reached the place where she had left her convertible. Togo was jumping from seat to seat, barking excitedly.
“Maybe you know something, old boy,” Nancy said, and let him out on a leash.
She allowed him to lead her a short distance down the road. He began sniffing the ground, where Nancy noticed some fresh tire prints. Before they reached the first bend in the highway, she heard the muffled roar of a car engine.
“A car must have been parked just out of sight!” she murmured. “Now it’s pulling away!”
Though she and Togo ran, the automobile had disappeared by the time they rounded the bend. The dog at this point seemed to lose interest.
“The woman who screamed must have been in the car,” Nancy decided. “But who was she? And why did she scream?”
It was too late to attempt pursuit. Thoughtfully Nancy walked back to her own car, where Mrs. Putney anxiously awaited her.
“Did you learn anything, Nancy?”
“Nothing of importance. No one seems to be around here now.”
“It was such a horrible scream.” Mrs. Putney shivered. “Please, let’s leave. I feel so uneasy here—as if unfriendly spirits were watching!”
Nancy suddenly remembered the object in the grass which had drawn her attention just before she had heard the scream. “I’d like to return to the clearing for a minute or two,” she said. “Mrs. Putney, why don’t you wait here in the car?”
“I believe I will,” the widow agreed, quickly getting into the automobile. “But please hurry!”
“I will,” Nancy promised.
She started off through the woods with Togo. Though she did not for an instant share Mrs. Putney’s belief that “spirits were watching,” the woods depressed her.
“I’ve allowed Mrs. Putney’s ghost talk to get on my nerves!” Nancy chided herself.
As she approached the spot where Mrs. Putney had buried the jewelry, Togo began to act strangely. Twice he paused to sniff the air and whine. Once he looked up into Nancy’s face as if trying to tell her something, and growled.
“Togo, what is it?” Nancy asked. “One would think—”
She gazed alertly about the clearing. It was deserted, yet every rustle of the leaves seemed to warn her to be careful.
Rather annoyed at her misgivings, Nancy went to the spot where she had been about to pick up the metallic object. Though she looked everywhere, the young detective was unable to find it.
Now more than ever alert, she carefully looked at the ground. In several places the grass had been trampled by herself, Mrs. Putney, or by someone else.
Togo began to sniff and tug at his leash. The dog led her to a depression in the ground which was hidden by bushes. Plainly visible in the soft earth were the prints of a man’s shoes.
Stooping down, she examined the footprints thoroughly, measuring them with her hand. Obviously they were fresh. The narrowness of the shoe, and its length, led Nancy to believe that the man who had walked there was tall and thin.
“So that’s why I can’t find the piece of metal!” she decided. “He came and picked it up while I was
investigating the woman’s scream! And probably,” Nancy thought ruefully, “she was with him, and her scream was to frighten me away.”
Though the trail was indistinct, Nancy could follow the footprints to the shelf of land which overlooked the clearing. The stranger had concealed himself there, watching!
“If he didn’t go off in the car, he may not be far from here now,” Nancy decided uneasily. “He may be the jewel thief!”
Nancy’s attractive face tightened as she realized that danger might be lurking in the forest. She was convinced that the theft of Mrs. Putney’s buried treasure was no ordinary affair.
“Only a very clever thief would have taken the trouble to substitute fake pieces of jewelry,” she thought. “No doubt it was done to keep Mrs. Putney from discovering her loss and reporting the theft to the police.”
Wasting no further time in reflection, Nancy followed the footprints. When the marks were no longer visible, Togo sniffed the ground intelligently, and led her to the road, where he stopped.
“So the man did go off in the car,” she sighed.
With Togo trotting along beside her, Nancy returned to her convertible.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” Mrs. Putney said, greatly relieved. “I was beginning to worry.”
En route to River Heights, Nancy said nothing of her findings, except that she thought the footprints might have been made by the thief. Her companion now seemed only mildly interested, and responded absent-mindedly to questions.
When they came to the city, Mrs. Putney requested that she be dropped off at Mr. Freeman’s jewelry store. Reminding her that the case of fake jewelry had been left at the Drew home, Nancy asked what should be done with it.
“I’ll get it later,” Mrs. Putney decided.
Nancy was pleased to have the case left in her possession, and promptly asked permission to show the jewelry to her father.
“By all means do so,” Mrs. Putney said. “Only please be careful not to reveal what I told you about my husband or his instructions.”
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