“I’m goin’ inside and get a couple bottles of ginger ale,” she heard him grumble to his companions.
As he stepped from the automobile and turned, Nancy saw his face. He was the mysterious man who had spoken to her that day on the train!
In view of the telephone call George had received, Nancy did not wish to be observed. She turned her head quickly, leaned down, and pretended to be studying a road map. “I hope he doesn’t recognize me!” Nancy thought, “or see my license plate!”
To her relief, the man walked in front of the convertible without a sideward glance. At that moment the woman alighted and walked toward the lunchroom, passing close to Nancy’s car. She was tall and slender, with blond hair that was almost shoulder length. Nancy’s attention was suddenly arrested when she detected on the stranger a familiar scent—Blue Jade perfume!
After the driver and the blond woman had entered the lunchroom, Nancy gazed at the two men who remained in the automobile. They were the sort Carson Drew would describe as “tough customers.”
The blond woman soon reappeared and got back into the sedan. Then the driver came out carrying the cold drinks. Without looking in Nancy’s direction, he addressed the attendant harshly.
“Say, ain’t you finished yet?”
He turned to one of the men in the car and handed him the bottles of ginger ale.
“Hold these, will you, Hank? I got to pay this bird!”
Nancy started. “That man in Room 305 called one of his friends ‘Hank’ over the telephone,” she said to herself. “Could he be this person?”
Her attention was drawn back to the driver, who was paying the attendant. He took a thick roll of bills from his pocket, and with a careless gesture peeled off a ten-dollar bill.
“Aren’t you afraid to carry such a wad around, sir?” the attendant questioned, gazing admiringly at the thick roll.
The driver laughed boisterously. “Plenty more where this comes from. Eh, Hank?”
“You bet! My roll makes his look like a flat tire! Just feast your eyes on this!” He flashed an even larger roll of bills in the amazed attendant’s face.
The filling-station man shrugged. “I’ll have to go inside to get, your change.”
The moment he had disappeared, the third man in the car muttered to his companions, “You fools! Do you want to make him suspicious? Pipe down!” He spoke in a low tone but the wind carried his voice in Nancy’s direction.
“Maurice is right,” the driver admitted. “The fellow is only a cornball, but we can’t be too careful.”
The attendant returned with the change. The driver pocketed it and drove off without another word. Nancy instinctively noted the license number of the car. On impulse she went to a phone booth and dialed her friend Chief McGinnis of the River Heights Police Department.
“I’ll ask him to let me know who owns both the sedan and the foreign-make car that slowed down at George’s house,” she determined. “Then I’ll find out about the driver, the woman wearing the Blue Jade, the men named Maurice and Hank, and maybe the man in Room 3051”
CHAPTER VI
A Worrisome Journey
“SOME class, eh?” the attendant remarked to Nancy as she came back to her car. “Must be millionaires.”
“Or racketeers,” Nancy thought. As soon as her gas tank was filled, she paid the bill and hurried back into the lunchroom. The girls already had been served.
“What took you so long?” Bess asked.
“Another car drove up and I had to wait,” Nancy answered simply. She sat down, thoughtfully eating her sundae.
“What’s the matter with you?” George de· manded presently. “You’ve hardly said a word since you sat down.”
Nancy looked around and saw that no one was seated near their table. In whispers she told what had happened.
“Oh, dear,” said Bess, “maybe that man on the train found out where we’re going and is on his way there too!”
“Don’t be silly,” George chided her cousin. “If he’s in some shady deal around River Heights, he’d be glad to have our young sleuth out of the way.”
Joanne looked a bit worried, but all she said was, “I think we’d better be on our way. I have to be there before that man comes to buy the farm. I must talk Gram out of it!”
The girls finished the sundaes and picked up their checks, but Nancy insisted upon paying.
“I want to break this twenty-dollar bill Dad gave me,” she said. “I’ve spent most of my smaller bills.”
The waitress changed the bill for her without comment and the girls left the lunchroom. As they climbed into the car, Nancy glanced anxiously at the sky. There was a dark overcast in the west.
“It does look like rain over my way,” Joanne observed. “And we leave the paved road and take a dirt one about five miles from the farm.”
“I’m afraid it’s going to be a race against time,” Nancy warned, starting the car. “A bad storm on a dirt road won’t help matters at all!”
The girls now noticed a change in the country-side. The hills had become steeper and the valleys deeper. The farms dotting the landscape were very attractive.
Nancy made fast time, for she was bent on beating the storm. The sky became gloomier and overcast. Soon the first raindrops appeared on the windshield. “We’re in for a downpour all right!” Nancy declared grimly, as she turned onto the dirt road.
Soon there was thunder and lightning, and the rain came down in torrents.
“Listen to that wind!” Bess exclaimed. “It’s enough to blow us off the road!”
The next minute everyone groaned in dismay, and Nancy braked the car. Across the road stood a wooden blockade. On it was a sign:
DETOUR
BRIDGE UNDER REPAIR
George read it aloud in disgust. An arrow on the sign indicated a narrow road to the right. As Nancy made the turn, Joanne gave a sigh.
“Oh, dear,” she said, “this back way will take us much longer to reach Red Gate.”
The detour led through a woodland of tall trees. Daylight had been blotted out entirely, and even with the car’s headlights on full, Nancy could barely see ahead. Again she was forced to slow down.
Suddenly a jagged streak of lightning hit a big oak a short distance from the car. It splintered the tree.
“Oh!” screamed Bess. “‘This is terrible!”
Nancy pretended to be calm, but she really was very much worried. She decided it would be safer to get away from the dangerous line of trees, any one of which might crash down on them!
“How long is this stretch of woods?” she asked Joanne.
“Oh, perhaps five hundred feet.”
“We’ll have to chance it.” Nancy drove as quickly as she dared in the darkness. The girls breathed sighs of relief when open country was reached.
But Joanne’s fears were not yet over. “Watch out!” she advised. “There’s a sharp, treacherous curve very soon, just before we take the turnoff for the farm.”
By now the brief storm had moved off to a distant sky and it was easier to see the boundaries of the slippery road. Nancy rounded a curve, but as the car took the turn, the wheels on the right side sank into the thick mud of a ditch, bringing the car to a lurching halt.
The unexpected mishap stunned the girls for a moment. Finally Bess found her voice. “Now what?”
Nancy endeavored to drive the car out of the ditch, but it was useless. “Well”—she sighed—“we may as well jump out and examine the car. Keep your fingers crossed.”
They found the convertible at a lopsided angle. The right wheels, however, were firmly anchored by the mud. The four girls attempted to push the car, but without success.
“I’ll look in the trunk,” Nancy said, “to see if there’s something to help us.”
Nancy found two pieces of heavy burlap. Bess and George put them in front of the two back wheels for traction. Then they gathered and broke up some brush to make a mat for each tire.
“I hope this wo
rks,” Joanne said, taking her place to assist in pushing the car. “There probably won’t be anyone else using this desolate road who could help us. ”I—I’m afraid we won’t reach the farm in time!”
Nancy stepped into the car and started the motor, easing the gas and slowly rocking the convertible back and forth. Inch by inch the tires crept forward, finally catching on the burlap and brush and rolling out of the ditch.
“We’ve done it!” Bess shouted proudly.
“With a little outside help!” George panted with a grin. The girls laughed from sheer relief.
They started off again, more slowly than before. But they had gone only a mile when a new storm seemed to be coming up. In less than five minutes complete darkness descended again, bringing another deluge of rain. Deafening thunderclaps instantly followed vivid forks of lightning.
Of necessity, Nancy once more kept the automobile at a snail’s pace. It was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Anxiously Joanne kept glancing at her watch. “It’s five-fifteen,” she announced nervously.
Nancy tried to assuage the worried girl’s fears. “This storm may have delayed your grandmother’s caller.”
The wind and rain continued unabated. As the convertible climbed the brow of a hill, there was a brilliant flash of lightning. George, who was seated in front with Nancy, screamed, “Don’t hit her!”
Nancy jammed on the brakes so quickly that the rear of the car skidded around sideways in the road.
“Who?” she demanded, horrified.
“The woman in the road! Didn’t you see her? Maybe she’s under the car!”
Heartsick, Nancy jumped out one door, Bess another. They peered under the car, alongside it, in back of it. They could see no one.
“Are you sure you saw a woman?” Nancy inquired.
Just then another streak of lightning illuminated the sky, and Bess called out, “There goes someone running across that field!”
Nancy glanced quickly in that direction and saw the running figure of a woman. At that same moment the woman looked back over her shoul der, revealing a thin, haggard face. Nancy judged her to be in her early fifties.
All four girls stared in mystification. Nancy and Bess returned to the car and the journey was resumed.
“Why would any sane person be walking in such a storm?” Bess spoke up finally.
“She’s headed in the direction of the cavern,” said Joanne, and explained that they were now nearing the farm. “Maybe she’s one of those strange people over there!”
Nancy and her friends were immediately curious. Before they could ask what Joanne meant, the car reached the crest of a steep hill and Joanne cried out:
“There’s Red Gate Farm!” She pointed to the valley below them.
The storm had let up and the sun was coming out. The River Heights girls could clearly see the forty-acre farm, with its groves of pine trees and a winding river which curled along the valley. Everything looked green and fresh after the heavy rain.
“It’s beautiful!” exclaimed Bess.
“And cool—and peaceful,” Joanne added excitedly.
“Don’t count on much relaxation with Nancy around,” George advised their new friend. “She’ll find some adventure to occupy every waking hour!”
“Yes,” Bess agreed. “Adventure with mystery added.”
Nancy smiled. She reflected on the two mysteries she had already encountered; the unsolved case of the Blue Jade perfume and the strange code.
As the car descended into the valley, the girls caught a better glimpse of the farm with its huge red barn and various adjoining sheds and the large, rambling house, partly covered with vines. There were bright-red geraniums in the window boxes, and a freshly painted picket fence surrounding the yard.
Nancy stopped the car in front of the big red gate which opened into the garden. “Oh, I hope it’s not too late!” Joanne cried as she sprang out to unlatch the gate.
CHAPTER VII
Nature Cult
NANCY drove in to Red Gate Farm and parked. She consulted her watch and noted with dismay it was quarter to six. By now the farmhouse door had opened, and a gray-haired woman in a crisp gingham dress and white apron came hurrying out to meet them. Her blue eyes were bright as she welcomed Joanne warmly.
“My granddaughter told me how kind you all were to her in the city,” she said to Nancy and her friends. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Gram!” Joanne exclaimed. “I can’t stand the suspense. Did you sell the farm to that man?”
Mrs. Byrd shook her head. “Mercy! I was so excited at your coming back I forgot to tell you. He phoned a little while ago and said that because of the storm he’d rather come here tomorrow—he could wait one more day.”
Not only Joanne, but her visitors, heaved sighs of relief. Further discussion of the subject was deferred when Mrs. Byrd insisted the girls freshen up for supper.
They entered the large, rambling house, and a little later everyone sat down in the plainly furnished but comfortable dining room. Mrs. Byrd appeared very happy as she bustled about, serving the delicious meal of hot biscuits, sizzling ham, sweet potatoes, and coffee. The girls had not realized how hungry they were.
“Nothing like driving through a storm to work up an appetite.” George grinned.
It was not until dessert—freshly baked lemon meringue pie—that Joanne mentioned again what was uppermost in her mind. “Gram,” she said gently, “please call up that man and tell him you don’t want to sell our farm. Please. We’ll find a way to stay here, somehow. I’m sure there’ll be answers to your ads for boarders.”
Nancy quickly spoke up. “Yes, Mrs. Byrd. It certainly would be a shame to give up Red Gate. And besides, George, Bess, and I would like to be paying guests for a while—if you’d like us to stay, that is.”
“Of course I want you all here as long as possible. But I really can’t accept any money,” Mrs. Byrd protested. “You have been so wonderful to Jo.”
“If you won’t let us pay our share, we’ll have to return home tomorrow,” Nancy insisted.
Mrs. Byrd finally relented and declared with a smile: “I believe I was just waiting to be dissuaded from taking that Mr. Kent’s offer. I’ll call him right now. He gave me his telephone number.”
The girls followed her into the kitchen, and sat down while Mrs. Byrd went to the phone there and put in the call.
“Mr. Kent? I’ve decided not to sell Red Gate Farm—at any price.... No. I ... No.... Absolutely.” The woman winced and held the phone away from her ear.
Nancy and her friends exchanged glances. The man was evidently incensed and was speaking so loudly they could hear his voice easily. Finally Mrs. Byrd put down the receiver.
“Well, I’m glad that man isn’t going to own Red Gate,” she declared. “He certainly was unpleasant. He even said I might regret my decision.”
Joanne’s face was radiant and she hugged her grandmother. “I feel so much better now.” She turned to her new friends. “Somehow, I know you’re going to bring us luck, Nancy, Bess, and George.”
Suddenly Mrs. Byrd said, “Goodness! I’ve forgotten to look in our mailbox today.”
“I’ll go.” Joanne hurried outside and was back in a minute, several envelopes in her hand.
“Graml One of these is from the Round Valley Gazette. Do you think—?” Excitedly she handed the mail to her grandmother.
The girls watched eagerly as Mrs. Byrd tore open a long, bulky envelope and took out a number of enclosed letters. She looked at them quickly. A smile spread over her face.
“Gram, are they answers to the ad for board ers?” Joanne asked excitedly.
Mrs. Byrd nodded. “I can hardly believe it! Two people are arriving the day after tomorrow. First, a Mrs. Salisbury, then a Mr. Abbott. Several others will come later this month.”
“Wonderful!” Nancy said, and immediately offered her assistance in getting rooms ready.
“Count Bess and me in too,” said George.
Later, as the guests bid her good night, Mrs. Byrd said:
“Jo was right. You three girls have brought us luck. Bless you!”
George and Bess were shown to the room in which they would sleep. Nancy was to share Joanne’s bedroom.
“Oh, how sweet it smells in here,” Joanne commented, as Nancy unpacked.
“That’s some of the Oriental perfume which splashed on my clothes in the train,” said Nancy. “It certainly is strong and lasting!”
When Nancy awoke the next morning, warm sunlight was streaming through the windows. Joanne had already gone downstairs. Nancy’s first thought was to phone Police Chief McGinnis and find out about the owner, or owners, of the cars driven by the suspicious man. After dressing hurriedly she went to the first floor and placed the call.
“Good morning, Nancy,” the officer said. “Here’s the information you wanted. Both cars were rented from drive-yourself agencies by a man named Philip Smith, a native of Dallas, Texas. They’ve been returned.”
Nancy thanked the chief and hung up. “That clue wasn’t any help,” she thought. “None of those suspicious men talked like a Texan. The name Philip Smith was probably phony, and made up on the spur of the moment. Also, a forged driver’s license might have been used.”
Presently Bess and George came down and the girls enjoyed a delicious breakfast of pancakes and sausages. Afterward, Joanne took the girls on a tour of the farm. She showed them the lovely gardens, a large chicken house, and her pet goat, Chester.
A turkey took a dislike to Bess and chased her to the farmhouse porch, much to the amusement of the onlookers! Joanne came to the rescue and chased the turkey away.
“Our farm isn’t very well stocked,” she admitted as she led the way to the barn. “We keep only one cow and one work horse. Poor old Michael should be retired on a pension, but we can’t afford to lose him yet!”
The Secret of Red Gate Farm Page 4