The Haunted Bridge

by Carolyn G. Keene

  Ned spoke up. “How about Burt and Dave and me staying?” he proposed. “We’ve all had first-aid and camping experience. We could look after everything.”

  “We’ll be glad to do it,” Dave added, and Burt nodded in agreement.

  “That would be a wonderful solution to the problem,” Nancy said in relief, “but it doesn’t seem fair to you, after coming to Deer Mountain for a good time.”

  Ned shrugged. “It would cost us a lot to stay at the hotel,” he said with a grin. “This place is good enough.”

  After some discussion it was finally decided that the three boys would remain at the cabin. Dr. Aikerman approved and gave careful instructions for the care of the patient.

  “Mr. Haley may be slow in getting his strength back,” said the doctor. “He’s been neglecting himself, I think. See that he gets plenty of hearty food and lots of sleep.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll look after him,” said Ned.

  “And don’t forget the wild beast,” Bess reminded the boys.

  “What is one supposed to feed a young mountain lion?” Ned asked.

  “We’ll have some raw meat sent out when we get back to town,” Mr. Drew promised, “as well as a few other necessities that you may need here.”

  Nancy took Ned aside so that the others could not hear what she was saying.

  “There’s something I wish you’d do for me, Ned,” she said.

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Please listen very carefully to anything Mr. Haley says—whether he’s conscious or talking in his sleep.”

  Ned glanced at Nancy, but he refrained from asking for an explanation, even though he regarded the request as strange.

  “I’ll be glad to,” he promised.

  “I wish you’d take down every word in writing,” Nancy added as she turned to leave the cabin. “The solution of a very complex mystery may be in your hands.”

  Ned smiled. “Bet I’ll solve it for you.” Then they said good night.

  Dr. Aikerman had brought his own car, and went off alone. As the three girls rode with Mr. Drew to Deer Mountain Hotel, Nancy asked, “By the way, Dad, did you win your tennis match against Mr. Bartescue?”

  “No, he defeated me two out of three sets,” Mr. Drew admitted ruefully.

  “Oh, I was certain you’d beat him, Dad. He must be a good player.”

  “Far better than I expected. We had a few close decisions as to whether balls were inside or outside the court, but I’m offering no alibis. A defeat now and then is good for anyone.” Mr. Drew chuckled.

  At the hotel the lawyer explained to Nancy that it was necessary for him to drive to the village. “I’ll buy supplies for the boys. While I’m there I’ll check out an important lead in connection with my case.”

  After her father had driven away, Nancy and the other girls inquired at the hotel desk for mail. There were letters for Bess and George from their parents. Nancy found a note and a small package waiting for her. She studied the handwriting on them curiously.

  “Hurry up and open the box,” Bess urged. “I can’t imagine what it contains.”

  Nancy removed the wrapping. She held up a golf ball for her friends to see. The gift had come from Martin Bartescue. His name was autographed neatly across the face of the ball.

  “The note must explain about it,” Bess declared.

  Nancy tore open the envelope and found a message from Barty.

  I’m sending you this ball to replace the one you lost. Use it in the tournament tomorrow and win!

  Nancy was amused. “I guess he thinks his autograph is just as important as Jimmy Harlow’s!”

  “Will you use the ball tomorrow?” Bess inquired mischievously.

  Nancy shrugged. Then, after a moment’s pause, she announced, “No, but I’ll keep it as a specimen of Mr. Bartescue’s handwriting.”

  “Why does he always use a different signature?” George asked. “His handwriting never seems to be the same twice.”

  “I have a theory that he may be a forger,” Nancy said in an undertone.

  “Then why not report him to the police?” George suggested.

  “Not yet. By playing a waiting game we may learn far more than we would if we were to expose the man immediately.”

  In her imagination she could see him linked with the jewel thieves. His acquaintance with the mysterious Margaret Judson, as well as his suspicious trick of altering his signature, perhaps to avoid identification, made it easy to visualize him as one of the gang.

  A few minutes later in her room, Nancy reflected soberly, “Through Barty I might be able to trace Margaret Judson. And I must find her.” Impulsively she looked at her watch, then sprang from her chair. Slipping into a coat, she said, “I’m taking the bus to town. Tell you why later.”

  There was no time to explain to Bess and George what she meant to do. The bus for town would leave the hotel in less than five minutes!

  Nancy was the last passenger aboard. When the bus pulled away, she wondered if she should have waited until she had consulted her father about her plan. At the village she alighted and entered a drugstore. After making a purchase, she stepped into a telephone booth.

  Summoning her courage, she called Deer Mountain Hotel and asked to speak with Mr. Martin Bartescue.

  “It will be just my luck for him to be out,” she thought anxiously.

  Half a minute later she heard the man’s voice at the other end of the line.

  “Hello, who is it?” he demanded, as Nancy, overcome by nervousness, remained silent.

  “This—is—Miss Judson,” Nancy stammered, trying to speak in a nasal tone.

  “Your voice doesn’t sound natural.”

  “I have a bad cold.”

  “What is it you wish, Miss Judson? You know it isn’t a good idea to call me here.”

  “I must speak with you about a very important matter. Can you meet me tonight?”

  Bartescue grumbled, “I suppose so. Where shall we meet?”

  “The same place and time as before.”

  “What’s the matter with 2 B X Gardenia?”

  Nancy was puzzled by the question, and for a moment could think of nothing to say. She did not have the slightest idea as to what 2 B X Gardenia could mean. In sheer desperation she mumbled into the telephone, “Nothing but the weather,” and hung up before the man could reply.

  As Nancy walked to the bus stop, she felt excited but also scared. Had Martin Bartescue guessed who was calling? Was 2 B X Gardenia a code for a meeting place? And if so, where was it?

  CHAPTER XII

  Stranded!

  THE telephone conversation had served Nancy’s purpose—it convinced her that Margaret Judson and Martin Bartescue could be working together in some nefarious business.

  “I must follow Barty,” she said to herself, “and find out where he goes.”

  Nancy returned to the hotel and explained her plan to Bess and George. “I’ll borrow Ned’s car and trail Barty when he leaves for his appoint ment with Margaret Judson.”

  Ned had given Nancy his key in case she wanted to use his car. Fortunately it was parked near the hotel exit and was ready to be driven out at a moment’s notice.

  “How about coming along?” Nancy asked her friends.

  “You couldn’t leave us home,” George replied.

  The girls went to dinner. They were pleased that Bartescue was in the dining room so they could keep an eye on him. Before Nancy, Bess, and George were half through dinner, Barty abruptly rose and left.

  “No dessert tonight,” Nancy said hurriedly to the waiter. “We must leave now.”

  The three girls reached the lobby in time to see Barty depart by the front door.

  “He intends to keep an appointment, all right,” Nancy declared in satisfaction. “We must move fast or he’ll be out of sight!”

  They ran to Ned’s parked car and Nancy started it quickly. Barty’s automobile had vanished down the road, but Nancy drove rapidly and soon came within view
of it.

  “He seems to be heading for the village,” she remarked.

  Apparently unaware that he was being followed, Bartescue drove into town and parked across the street from a movie theater. Nancy stopped nearly a half block away and watched him cross the street and enter the building.

  “Do you suppose he expects to meet Miss Judson inside the theater?” Bess asked in disappointment.

  “Wait here,” Nancy said, sliding from behind the steering wheel.

  She bought a ticket to the theater and went inside. Although the usher could not recall the man Nancy described, the young detective was sure that Bartescue had entered the theater. In the darkened area she was unable to distinguish faces.

  Thinking that possibly Barty had gone to the lounge to keep his appointment, she went there. The room was empty.

  Perplexed, Nancy returned to the lobby, and after standing there for several minutes finally decided to join her friends again. She left the theater and crossed the street.

  Suddenly she halted, staring blankly at the place where she had parked Ned’s car. Bess, George, and the automobile had vanished!

  Nancy was dismayed for an instant. During her absence had harm come to her friends? After a little sober reflection, Nancy convinced herself that George and Bess had driven off somewhere deliberately.

  “Barty very likely came out of the theater shortly after I went inside,” she reasoned. “The girls may have decided to follow him.”

  Nancy was temporarily stranded in the village. A bus would not return to Deer Mountain Hotel for nearly an hour.

  Half an hour elapsed, and still there was no sign of the missing car. Nancy glanced anxiously at her watch.

  “George and Bess may not return for hours,” she said to herself. “Fortunately the hotel bus will be coming soon.”

  As she made her way toward the bus stop Nancy heard the screech of brakes. Then a car came to a sudden halt by the curb.

  “Nancy!” called a voice.

  She whirled to see Ned Nickerson, who had driven up in his car. He sprang out to open the door for her.

  “Bess and George sent me after you,” he explained. “They’re back at the hotel.”

  “At the hotel?”

  “They didn’t mean to run off, but right after you left, Bartescue came out of the theater by a side door, so they followed him.”

  “Where did he go?” Nancy inquired.

  “Right back to the hotel. I happened to be there when the girls arrived. Since I wanted to talk to you, they asked me to come for you.”

  “I’m afraid,” Nancy said, “that he suspected he was being followed.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Ned, tell me about the man at the cabin.”

  “He seems about the same, Nancy, but he did talk a good deal. As you thought, his name is Joe Haley. His most startling words were these:

  “‘Miss Margaret, I’m afraid the box was stolen —don’t cry—why don’t you marry Mark?’ ”

  “Are you sure the name was Mark?” Nancy asked quickly. “Could it have been Martin?”

  “It might have been. I admit I didn’t hear what he said very clearly.”

  “Ned, I forgot to ask you about Barty. Since he claims to be acquainted with so many well-known society people, he should be in the Social Register. Did you look to see if his name is listed?”

  “I did. It wasn’t there.”

  “Just as I suspected.”

  On the way to the hotel Nancy told Ned as much as she felt she should about the case which had brought her father to Deer Mountain HoteL Other facts in her possession were confidential. Without Mr. Drew’s permission, she could not divulge them.

  When they reached the hotel, Nancy learned from the desk clerk that her father had returned. She said good night to Ned and hastened to Mr. Drew’s room.

  “Any luck on your lead, Dad?” she asked eagerly.

  “No,” he said. “It was a worthless tip as usual.” He sighed. “To tell the truth, I think we’ve been on the wrong track.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I doubt that Margaret Judson had anything to do with the jewel smuggling. There’s no real evidence to support our theory that the brass chest belongs to her.”

  “I don’t think she’s guilty either,” said Nancy. “She seems too nice. Cheer up, Dad,” she added. “We’ll get to the bottom of the mystery.”

  “That’s my girll” said Mr. Drew. “You’ll win out, I know.”

  Nancy smiled. “Speaking of winning, tomorrow I face a crucial test in golf. I’d better get to bed.”

  “How does your hand feel?” her father asked anxiously. “Did you see Dr. Aikerman?”

  “Yes, he let me take off the bandage, but said I still must be very careful.”

  “It’s a shame you have to play with an injury,” Mr. Drew said sympathetically. “I’m banking on you to win, anyway!”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Nancy smiled as she kissed him and went off.

  She dropped in on Bess and George for a moment. George was writing letters, while Bess, propped up with pillows, had been reading in bed.

  “Is your book a good one?” Nancy inquired.

  Bess made a face. “The title sounded great, but it turned out to be about medieval history. It’s pretty heavy reading. Here, take a look!”

  She tossed the book across the room, expecting that her friend would catch it. Nancy was glancing in another direction and did not see the object flying toward her. In seconds the heavy volume had struck her injured hand.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, trying to smother a cry of pain.

  Bess leaped from bed and ran to Nancy’s side.

  “Oh, your poor hand! I thought you were watching when I tossed the book. I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “The hand feels better already,” Nancy assured her friend. “Please don’t worry.”

  “But your match tomorrow—”

  “The pain will go away before then, I’m sure.”

  Somewhat reassured, Bess returned to bed. She had no idea that Nancy actually was suffering intense pain.

  As Nancy prepared for bed, she prayed for a night of restful sleep before the eventful day to come. But the ache in her hand grew steadily worse. She nervously paced the floor.

  Finally she dialed Dr. Aikerman’s room and told him what had happened.

  “Come to my office in ten minutes,” the physician replied.

  Nancy dressed and went there. Dr. Aikerman was waiting for her.

  “What have you been doing to this hand?” he asked sternly. “I hope you’re not planning to play in the golf tournament tomorrow.”

  “Oh, doctor! Please don’t say I shouldn’t.”

  “That is a matter for you to decide, young lady. Your injury will not prove permanent, but I can see that you must be in excruciating pain at times.”

  “I am,” Nancy admitted ruefully. “I was hoping you could relieve it.”

  “There is very little I can do except put on another bandage. It will take time for the hand to heal.”

  “The pain is so acute I haven’t been able to sleep.”

  “I can give you something for that,” the doctor said. “Perhaps by morning the pain will have lessened considerably.”

  Nancy thanked the doctor, and when she was back in her room took the medicine as directed. Soon she fell asleep and did not awaken until the sun streamed in through the window the following morning. As she opened her eyes Nancy heard someone rapping on the door connecting her room with that of Bess and George.

  “May we come in?” Bess called.

  “Yes,” Nancy called back.

  George opened the door and commented in surprise, “Not dressed yet?” Then, as she noticed how tired and wan her friend appeared, she added quickly, “Nancy, you’ve had a bad night!”

  “I slept fairly well after the doctor gave me some medicine and bound my hand again.”

  “The doctor!” Bess exclaimed in dismay.

  “No
w don’t start worrying,” Nancy said. “My hand hurts only a little this morning, and I intend to play in the golf tournament.”

  She refused to say anything more about her injury, and started to dress. George and Bess tried in every way to assist her so she would not need to use her sore hand.

  “You’ll just have enough time to eat breakfast and reach the first tee,” George said, glancing at her watch. “It’s rather late.”

  The girls hastened to the dining room. They had just seated themselves when Nancy glimpsed Chris Sutter coming timidly toward her.

  “Excuse me for bothering you, Miss Drew, but I want to talk to you about Miss Judson. My mother is here in the lobby and she has something to tell you.”

  Nancy arose quickly.

  “Don’t wait breakfast for me,” she told Bess and George. “I’ll go with Chris. This may be important!”

  CHAPTER XIII

  Unexpected Plunge

  “HAVE you learned something about Margaret Judson?” Nancy inquired as she led Mrs. Sutter to a secluded corner in the hotel lobby. “Do you know where she’s living now?”

  “No, Miss Drew. That’s what I want to talk with you about.”

  Nancy looked puzzled, and Mrs. Sutter hastened to explain. She had learned from the village postmistress that several letters addressed to Margaret Judson were being held for lack of a forwarding address.

  “I thought you might have found out where she lives,” the woman added.

  “No, I haven’t,” Nancy answered.

  It was clear to her now that Mrs. Sutter had come, not just to impart information, but to learn why Nancy was interested in Margaret Judson. The young detective cleverly avoided Mrs. Sutter’s questions, but could not help feeling provoked because so much time had been wasted. She ended the conversation by explaining that her friends were waiting for her at the breakfast table.

  Bess and George had just finished their meal. Since it was so late, Nancy ordered only orange juice and breakfast rolls.

  “You can’t win a golf tournament on a diet like that,” protested Bess, who loved to eat.

  “I must hurry. I was with Mrs. Sutter longer than I expected and learned nothing except that Margaret Judson hasn’t picked up her mail for a long while.”