The Clue in the Diary
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgements
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I - A Suspicious Stranger
CHAPTER II - An Excitable Driver
CHAPTER III - The Diary
CHAPTER IV - The Initialed Ring
CHAPTER V - A Dangerous Detour
CHAPTER VI - Nancy’s Strategy
CHAPTER VII - A Disclosure
CHAPTER VIII - Worried Sleuths
CHAPTER IX - A Scare
CHAPTER X - A Spooky Shack
CHAPTER XI - Lost in the Crowd
CHAPTER XII - Incriminating Evidence
CHAPTER XIII - The Law Takes Over
CHAPTER XIV - An Arrest
CHAPTER XV - Nancy Is Accused
CHAPTER XVI - A New Assignment
CHAPTER XVII - An Important Clue
CHAPTER XVIII - A Revealing Translation
CHAPTER XIX - Setting a Trap
CHAPTER XX - A Surprising Victory
THE CLUE IN THE DIARY
NANCY and her friends, George and Bess, are returning from a country carnival when they witness the explosion and burning of a beautiful country mansion. Fearing its occupants may be trapped in the blazing building, they rush to the rescue—and unexpectedly find themselves confronted with a mystery that seems to be insoluble.
The first clue is an anonymous diary, its entries in a handwriting difficult to decipher. Even more puzzling are the technical drawings and chemical formulas contained in its pages.
Who dropped the diary near the burning house? Was it the gaunt stranger Nancy glimpsed running away from the flaming structure? What was he doing there? And does he know the whereabouts of Felix Raybolt, an unscrupulous dealer in patents, who has not been seen since his home burned? Or did Raybolt die in the fire?
Fire investigators believe that the destructive explosion and fire may not have been an accident—but an act of revenge. Evidence mounts against Joe Swenson, an inventor who was swindled by “Foxy Felix.” Prompted by her affection for Mr. Swenson’s five-year-old daughter Honey, the young detective makes a desperate effort to exonerate the inventor of the suspicion of arson. How she accomplishes this makes another exciting Nancy Drew mystery.
“It’s evidence against him!” Nancy said to herself. “He can’t destroy it!”
Acknowledgement is made to Mildred Wirt Benson, who under the pen name
Carolyn Keene, wrote the original NANCY DREW books
Copyright © 1990, 1962, 1932, 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,
Inc. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
eISBN : 978-1-101-07708-5
http://us.penguingroup.com
CHAPTER I
A Suspicious Stranger
“A PENNY for your thoughts, Nancy Drew,” said George Fayne. “You’ve been staring into space for nearly two minutes!”
“And missing all this good food!” added blond Bess Marvin. The slightly plump, pretty girl reached for a third sandwich.
“George,” said Nancy to Bess’s slim, short-haired cousin, who enjoyed her boy’s name, “I’m worried about that darling Swenson child and her mother. I wish we could do something to help them.”
“You mean,” said Bess, “find Mr. Swenson, or the money his wife told us he had promised to send?”
“Yes,” Nancy answered. “It’s very mysterious, since apparently he has been away for some time. I wonder if his letters—containing money orders —were stolen.”
“That’s a federal offense,” George said grimly.
The three girls, seated beneath a spreading roadside maple tree, were enjoying a picnic supper. The peaceful spot was halfway between their home town of River Heights and Sandy Creek, where they had attended a popular annual carnival.
Bess chuckled. “If there’s a thief around, Nancy will capture him!” She reached for a deviled egg. “Count me in to help with the sleuthing—if it’s not too dangerous.”
“I wouldn’t count on its not being dangerous,” said George. “You know Nancy.”
The young sleuth smiled at this remark, but in a moment became serious again. All of Nancy’s friends agreed that she possessed an intangible appealing quality which people never forgot.
Nancy was pretty in a distinctive way. Her eyes were blue, her hair titian blond. She expressed her opinions firmly, but did not force them on others. Nancy’s abilities of leadership were welcome and depended upon in any group.
With Bess and George, Nancy had made the drive to Sandy Creek in her convertible. From the breath-taking “Whip” to the airplane swings, they had left nothing untried, and true to her reputation, Nancy had unearthed an adventure.
Her attention had been drawn to a little girl and her mother among the carnival crowd. They had been looking on wistfully, but had taken no part in the fun. Nancy and her friends had sensed that the mother could not afford admission tickets. On impulse, the girls had invited them to go along on several rides.
The three had fallen in love with five-year-old Honey. She was a bright and appealing child in spite of the fact that she looked undernourished. Her dress, though neat, was faded.
“Honey was so adorable,” Nancy remarked, half to herself.
“Yes, she certainly was,” Bess agreed.
“We must see the Swensons again,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “I can’t bear to think of that little girl’s going without the things she needs. We’ll visit the Joe Swenson family someday soon at their home. You wrote down the address, didn’t you, Bess?”
“Yes.”
“It won’t be easy to do things for Mrs. Swenson,” George predicted. “That woman is proud. You can see that.”
“I know,” Nancy admitted. “She didn’t like our paying for everything at the carnival, but for Honey’s sake she allowed it.”
Bess, gazing toward the west, observed that the sun was sinking below the horizon. “We’d better be on our way,” she declared.
The girls arose and put the food wrappings into the car. They had pulled into a side road. Now Nancy carefully steered the convertible over the rough road to the main highway, then headed for River Heights.
After the first few miles, Bess slumped down and wearily leaned her head back against the seat, while gazing out the window. “Nice homes along this road,” she observed presently.
“Mostly country estates,” George added.
“Look at that large white house on the hill.” Nancy pointed toward one with spacious grounds and a woods behind it. “Isn’t it a dream? The lawns are so well kept. Just my idea of a country place.”
“Wonder who owns it?” George asked.
Nancy had no chance to reply. Suddenly there was a tremendous explosion, and in an instant the lovely white house on the hillside burst into flames! Tongues of fire leaped from the windows and doors.
“There may be people trapped inside!” Nancy cried out. “We must help them!”
She drove frantically toward the burning house, pressing the automobile horn incessantly, hoping to attract the attention of neighboring residents. As the girls passed other vehicles, Bess and George shouted and pointed toward the house on the hill.
“We’ll need all the help we can get,” Nancy said grimly, “if anyone is to be rescued.”
The convertible swung into the driveway and headed up the hill toward the burning building. At a glance it was apparent to the girls that the house could not be saved. Nancy stopped the car and the three jumped out.<
br />
“There may be people trapped inside!” Nancy cried out
“If there are people trapped inside,” George exclaimed as they dashed toward the house, “how can we ever save them?”
The girls scanned the windows anxiously but could see no one. Already the smoke was thick and the heat warned them that they could not enter—at least, not from the front.
“I’ll try the back,” Nancy told the cousins. “The smoke may not be so dense there. You’d better take the car to the nearest house and phone the fire department.”
As Bess and George hurried off, Nancy quickly rounded the house, only to be met by a heavy cloud of smoke being carried by the wind. It made her cough and choke, and for a moment her eyes burned so that she could barely see.
Nancy started forward again, then halted abruptly as she caught sight of a man about to crawl through the back hedge. He seemed to be running away from the burning building. Did this mean he might have set the house on fire?
“Stop!” Nancy cried.
The man turned his head and in the glare of the fire she caught a momentary but clear glimpse of his face. He was very blond, ruddy complex-ioned, and square jawed. Instantly he whirled, crawled through the thick hedge, and vanished.
“His actions were those of a guilty person,” Nancy thought. Who was he? she wondered. Nancy saw him again when he stood up behind the hedge. The man was tall and gaunt, and poorly dressed.
“He doesn’t look like a criminal,” she thought. “But his identification might prove vitally important to the authorities.”
Nancy had an instinctive talent for detective work. She was the only child of Carson Drew, a widely known lawyer. Mrs. Drew had passed away when Nancy was a very young child, and daughter and father had become close companions. They often helped each other on cases.
The first mystery Nancy had solved was The Secret of the Old Clock, involving her in a dangerous search for a missing will. Since then, she had successfully tackled other unusual cases. Nancy’s most recent adventure, centering around a strange white-robed clan, cleared up The Mystery at Red Gate Farm.
As Nancy stood staring after the stranger who had disappeared into the woods, she heard fire engines clang up to the house. She dashed to the front and met George and Bess, breathless from running. Neighbors were arriving from all directions, some on foot, others in automobiles. The sight of the burning building had attracted passing motorists, and the driveway was quickly jammed with cars.
The firemen realized at once that nothing could be saved. By playing heavy streams of water on the house, the firemen barely succeeded in keeping the blaze from spreading to the outbuildings.
“What a shame such a beautiful home had to burn!” Bess remarked as the girls watched the firemen work. “I—I hope the owners aren’t in there.”
A woman who was standing nearby turned to answer. “The Raybolts’ house has been closed all summer, so I guess no one is inside.”
“I hope not,” Nancy murmured.
“So Mr. Raybolt doesn’t know of his loss,” Bess commented. “What a blow it will be!”
“Oh, I guess Mrs. Raybolt can stand it,” the woman returned indifferently. “Her husband has plenty of money.”
“You know them then?” Nancy questioned. The woman shook her head. “Only by reputation. I live near here, but the Raybolts were never neighborly.”
“Have they a large family?” Nancy asked.
“No, there are only the two of them, and they’re a pair! Mrs. Raybolt thinks she’s a bit too good for anyone around here.” Nancy and her friends gathered that the owners of the ruined house were far from well liked.
In spite of the desperate efforts of the firemen, it was impossible to keep the blaze under control. Nancy noted with alarm that the wind was steadily rising and veering to the north. At any moment the outbuildings might ignite.
“Oh!” Bess cried. “Look! The roof of the house is falling in!”
A wave of heat drove the girls back a few steps and unexpectedly a thick cloud of smoke blew toward them. Nancy choked and gasped. When the smoke did not clear away she ran to escape it.
Bess and George had scattered in opposite directions, and when Nancy looked about for them, they were not in sight. Before she could call their names, the wind brought another cloud of dense smoke swirling down upon her.
Blindly Nancy stumbled toward the driveway where it curved around the rear of the house. She ran straight into a small wooden structure, and the impact nearly knocked her over. As the smoke drifted away, she could not help laughing. “Only a doghouse!” she thought. “Lucky there was no mean dog in it to attack me!”
As Nancy started back to the driveway she caught sight of a small leather-covered book lying a few feet from the doghouse. Eagerly Nancy snatched it up.
She decided that the book must have been dropped that day. Otherwise, the cover would have been ruined by a heavy rain the previous night. Nancy was struck with a sudden idea. When running across the back lawn of the burning house, the mysterious tall stranger must have passed this very spot. Could he have dropped the book?
“Perhaps I’ve stumbled on a clue!” Nancy thought excitedly.
CHAPTER II
An Excitable Driver
NANCY thrust the little book into the pocket of her sports dress. She resisted the temptation to examine it on the spot, for wind-whipped sparks from the fire were flying in every direction.
She glanced about quickly but could not locate her friends. Bess and George were lost in the crowd.
A flying ember narrowly missed Nancy. “I’d better be on the move!” she warned herself, observing that the wind had shifted, and was blowing toward the driveway.
Nancy saw with alarm that a patch of dry grass had flared up very close to the parked automobiles. Several men leaped forward, and began stamping on the flames, but the burning embers were dropping everywhere.
Nancy hurried toward her convertible. “I’d better move it!” she thought.
Suddenly Nancy stopped and stared in astonishment. A strange young man was climbing into her car. The next instant he started the motor!
“Bess and George must have left the key in the ignition lock!” Nancy said to herself, rushing forward, “Is he trying to steal my car?”
Nancy reached the convertible just as the self-appointed driver started to back it down the driveway, skillfully avoiding the other vehicles which were parked at various angles nearby.
“Your car?” he inquired with a disarming smile as Nancy ran alongside the convertible. “I thought I’d move it out of the danger zone.”
“Thank you,” Nancy murmured a trifle uncertainly. “I think it will be safe right here unless the wind changes again.”
The young man pulled as close to the edge of the drive as possible. He was about nineteen, Nancy decided, surveying him critically. His hair was dark and slightly curly, his eyes whimsical and friendly. He wore a college fraternity pin.
Nancy was still wary, nevertheless. The stranger must have read her thoughts, for he slid from behind the wheel and with a cheerful nod of farewell disappeared into the crowd.
“I don’t know what to make of him,” Nancy thought in bewilderment. “He looks like a nice person—and yet, appearances can be deceiving. Oh, dear, where are Bess and George?”
At that very moment she caught sight of the cousins hurrying toward her. “We thought we’d lost you for good,” George declared as the girls climbed into the car. “Look at my dress, will you! I stumbled over a stone and landed flat!”
“And I’m nearly suffocated from smoke!” Bess said weakly.
“I think it’s time we start for home,” Nancy declared. “If this wind keeps up, the fire will last for hours. We’ve done all we can to help.”
Bess and George readily agreed to leave, and it seemed that dozens of other spectators felt the same way. The wind had increased in velocity, posing a fresh threat to all the cars in the vicinity of the burning house. Many vehicles crowded
into the narrow driveway leading to the main road, and soon a traffic jam resulted.
Horns blasted noisily. Fenders scraped and angry words were hurled back and forth.
“Why don’t they stop honking?” George exclaimed impatiently. “It doesn’t help a bit. We’ll be here all night!”
Inch by inch Nancy’s car progressed toward the main road, with the congested traffic beginning to unsnarl itself. Then suddenly a new shower of sparks descended upon the automobiles nearest the house. The drivers of these cars, anxious to get away from the flying embers, tried to force their way into the line of traffic ahead by crowding in out of turn.
“Look out!” George cried suddenly. “That man is going to hit us!”
Nancy was trapped. The driver apparently had lost control of his sedan. Crash! It plowed into the rear of Nancy’s convertible with an impact that gave the three girls a severe jolt.
They sat stunned for a moment, but fortunately none of them was injured. Nancy leaped out, and saw at a glance that her car had been badly damaged. One fender was crumpled, the rear lights were smashed, and the bumper dragged on the ground.
Her first inclination was to tell the driver what she thought of the incompetent way he had handled his car. But the man was instantly apologetic, and obviously so shaken that Nancy relented. She wrote down his name, address, and license number.
“I’d also like the name of your insurance company, Mr. Weston,” Nancy told him.
The thin, wiry man became more flustered than ever. “I—I’m terribly sorry. I’m in such a state of confusion, I can’t even remember the name. And I don’t have the company’s card with me.”
It was finally decided that he would notify his agent about the accident, and Nancy would contact Mr. Weston after she had learned the total cost of repairs.
“The bill will be taken care of, believe me,” the man assured Nancy. “I’ll collect my wits, once I’m home. No more driving for me in dangerous spots. Doctor says I shouldn’t drive, anyway. Too nervous.”