The Witch Tree Symbol

by Carolyn G. Keene

  The girls found the antique dealer wearing a broad smile. “I’ve sold many pieces of furniture since yesterday morning,” Mr Zinn said. “And at good prices. Well, have you any news of the stolen antiques?”

  Before Nancy could reply, he went on, “You remember that cherry table you were interested in—the George Washington copy?”

  As the girls nodded, Mr. Zinn continued, “It was one of the articles I sold.” He chuckled. “A couple came in and asked about it. I named a high price, expecting them to bargain with me. But they bought the table then and there.

  “Funny about that couple,” he continued. “Amish, but they don’t live around here. Came from Ohio. A long distance to drive in a carriage.”

  Nancy, Bess, and George were astonished.

  “Was it drawn by a black horse?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Zinn. “Why?”

  Nancy told him of her suspicions that Hoelt was masquerading. “It’s likely he found out the George Washington tables he stole don’t contain the secret,” Nancy deduced.

  Mr. Zinn chuckled. “And because of the high price I set on my copy of the table, he figured it must be the genuine matching piece.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You mean I had the thief who stole my inheritance right in my shop and I let him get away?” The antique dealer’s face grew red with anger.

  “I’m afraid so,” Nancy said. She had a sudden hunch. “How did this man pay for the table?”

  “In cash. Big bills,” Mr. Zinn replied.

  “May I see them?” the girl requested.

  The man unlocked his old-fashioned roll-top desk and took out a tin box. From this he removed five 20-dollar bills.

  Nancy took a similar bill from her pocket and held it next to Mr. Zinn’s money. First, she compared the letter, plate, and serial numbers, and the series identification. All seemed to be in order. Next, she compared the paper quality, since she knew that genuine United States currency has a distinctive feel. They were identical as far as she could tell.

  While the group watched breathlessly, Nancy examined the scrollworlk on the border of the front and back plates of each note. Now she frowned—in this respect they were lacking in continuity and uniformiity of shading.

  “Look!” she exclaimed, pointing out the difference between the five 20-dollar bills, and the sharp clarity of her own.

  Mr. Zinn cried out, “Those bills the man gave me—is counterfeit gelt?”

  “Yes, I’m pretty sure they are.” Nancy sighed.

  The man paced back and forth in his office. Finally Nancy asked him if he were going to call the police to report the counterfeit money.

  “Ya, ya,” the dealer said. He fumbled through the telephone book and then handed it to Nancy, asking her to find the number of the police station.

  Nancy made the call. The local police captain said he would send an expert down at once to examine the money.

  In a short time two officers arrived. One immediately said the bills were fake. The other policeman wrote down a description of the couple who had bought the table.

  “We’ll send a report to the state troopers,” one of the officers said. “We ought to pick up the two of them in no time.”

  The girls stayed to wait for a report. But hours passed and there was no news from the police. Late in the afternoon they were looking at several patchwork quilts Mrs. Zinn had made with the help of her neighbors, when her husband rushed into the house.

  “Where’s Nancy Drew?” he shouted.

  Mrs. Zinn and the visitors hurried to the kitchen, where the antique dealer stood with his feet apart and his hands on his hips. “So this is how you work!” he cried. “You come around here pretending to be friends, and this is what you’re up to!”

  Nancy hardly knew what to reply but finally she asked him what he meant.

  “As if you didn’t know,” he said, shaking a finger at her. “But you’ve been found out! You thought you could get away with those two valuable lamps of mine, but you didn’t do it!”

  The young detective stared. Had the man gone out of his mind? George, now angered, demanded that the dealer explain his accusations.

  “Those two lamps in your car!” Mr. Zinn roared. “How long have they been there? The woman told me you’re a witch and now I believe it!”

  It was several minutes before Mrs. Zinn could calm her husband enough for him to give an explanation. A woman had telephoned to warn him that a girl by the name of Nancy Drew, who looked very innocent, was really a witch and a thief. She was riding about the countryside stealing small valuable antiques.

  “The woman told me,” said Zinn, “that if I looked in your car I would no doubt find something from my shop. Well, I did. Nancy Drew, I’m going to call the police!”

  Nancy did not raise her voice, although she too was becoming angry. “Did the woman who called give her name?”

  The antique dealer glared. “No, she didn’t. But she was right. I found my stolen lamps hidden under a blanket on the back seat of your car. How can you explain that?”

  “I’m sure this is Roger Hoelt’s work,” Nancy declared. “He planted the lamps there and got his wife to make the call. It’s one of the ways he’s been trying to keep me from working on the case.”

  Bess was indignant at the man’s continued anger. “Nancy is not only trying to find the thief who robbed your aunt’s estate but has also taught you something about accepting money too hastily from strangers!” she said hotly.

  Finally, Mr. Zinn became calmer and said he would not call the police. But he said firmly that he wanted the girls to leave immediately.

  “That suits me,” said George. “If we had wanted to take your old lamps, don’t you think we’d have left long before this?”

  The girls walked to the convertible and drove off without a backward glance.

  All three were deeply disturbed. Roger Hoelt had played a clever trick in accusing Nancy of being a thief. She was becoming more unpopular by the moment in the Amish community. Soon no one would be willing to trust the young detective.

  Bess was afraid that if Mr. Zinn spread the story of the lamps, the girls might even be asked to leave the county. “By the time we return to the Glicks’, they may freeze up too, and turn us out,” she prophesied dolefully.

  It was with some apprehension that the girls drove up to the Glick farmhouse. Becky and Henner rushed out to meet them. Henner called out, “You be witches, ain’t?”

  Nancy got out of the car and put her arms around the little boy. Quietly but firmly, she told him that she and her friends were not witches, “Pinch me and see,” she suggested.

  “But Mama, she went to a schnitzing,” Henner told her. “The women say you all be witches.”

  At this moment Mrs. Glick ran from the house. Having overheard her son’s remark, she scolded him. “I told you that witches are only make-believe. You are a bad boy for repeating what I told your papa those silly women said. Go help him now!”

  Mrs. Glick turned to the girls as her children ran off. “Some of my friends are superstitious,” she said. “They forget that witches are nothing but old wives’ tales!”

  They all went into the house and Nancy excused herself to freshen up for supper. Alone, she reviewed her problem. Roger Hoelt and his wife were undoubtedly the source of the vicious rumors. But how to cope with them was the big question.

  Just then she heard a car coming up the lane. Peering from the window, Nancy saw a state trooper.

  A few moments later Mrs. Glick called to her, “Nancy, will you come downstairs, please?”

  Nancy fairly flew to the first floor, hoping that the trooper had some news of Roger Hoelt and his wife. Mrs. Glick introduced her to the officer, a freckle-faced outdoor-type man.

  “How do you do?” the officer acknowledged the introduction. “Well, you certainly don’t look much like a witch!”

  Nancy was thunderstruck. Was he joking, or did the police believe the foolish rumors, too?
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br />   The trooper grinned and explained that earlier in the day a call had been received at police headquarters. An unidentified woman had said that three out-of-state girls were trouble-makers —and witches! She said one in particular, Nancy Drew, had claimed she had supernatural powers, enabling her to locate missing persons and solve mysteries.

  The trooper smiled. “We know it’s nonsense. But our practice is to investigate anonymous calls whenever possible. I traced you here. Can you clear this up, Miss Drew?”

  Nancy told the officer everything that had happened, and for the first time Mrs. Glick heard the story of the hex sign. Nancy admitted she had solved several mysteries, but said that she did not claim to be an expert. She added that she had not tried to cause trouble.

  The officer was satisfied and departed, wishing the young detective good luck.

  Mrs. Glick came to Nancy’s side and laid a motherly hand on her shoulder. “Tomorrow you are going to forget the mystery and have a good time. It is market day. Would you girls like to help me stand market?”

  “Oh, we’d love to!” Nancy cried, her face brightening. “What can we do for you?”

  The farm woman said that the vegetables had to be picked after sundown, washed, and arranged attractively. “Early tomorrow we will bake bread and make pies and cakes to sell.”

  The family and their visitors had an early supper. Then Mrs. Glick and all the girls went into the garden and began picking plump carrots and beets. When their baskets were full, they carried them to the sluiceway and washed the vegetables, which were then sorted according to size, cleaned, and tied into bunches.

  At last the girls, tired from the long day, tumbled into bed. It seemed they had hardly fallen asleep when Mrs. Glick knocked on their doors. “It is four o’clock. Time to get up!”

  The three jumped out of bed, hurried into their clothes, and raced downstairs. They found Mrs. Glick busy with her baking. From the oven came the aroma of apple pie and cookies.

  “You are sleepy birds,” Mrs. Glick teased, while stirring batter for a cake. “But you are in time to make the fasnachts.”

  When the hot fat was ready, Nancy and George dropped the raw doughnut rings into it, one by one. As soon as each was cooked, it was removed and dried on paper. Bess sprinkled them with powdered sugar.

  “When you get hungry, help yourselves,” Mrs. Glick invited. “We will not have time to sit down to breakfast.”

  “We’ll leave at six sharp,” Mrs. Glick announced, as she bustled about the homey kitchen. After a snack, the girls assisted her in packing the food into her automobile.

  When they reached the market, the visitors helped Mrs. Glick set up her stall. Afterward, the woman suggested that they walk through the market and look around the town.

  The three friends were intrigued, not only by the hearty, appetizing foods and the bright flowers on display but also by the hand needlework and cookbooks on sale.

  Outside the market, Nancy, Bess, and George watched Amish carriage after carriage arrive. There was a long row of hitching posts to which the horses were tied side-by-side. There was not a black horse among them. Most of the men and women were tall and strong looking. All had good color and bright eyes.

  George suddenly grinned. “The minute they turn their backs, you can’t tell one from another.”

  Bess giggled. “The young men must have a hard time keeping track of their dates!”

  An hour later the girls decided to return to the market. As they turned the corner they saw an Amish girl coming toward them.

  Suddenly Nancy cried out, “Why it’s Manda Kreutz!”

  CHAPTER IX

  Mistaken Identity

  NANCY and her chums stopped In front of Manda Kreutz on the street, but the Amish girl looked at them blankly. She gave no sign of recognition.

  Ignoring this, Bess said to her sweetly, “Why did you run away from home again?”

  “I think you must have me mixed up with someone else,” the girl replied. She started to walk on.

  Nancy took her arm. “Surely you remember us—the girls who met you on the road when you were walking home from Lancaster?”

  Suddenly the Amish girl smiled. “I guess you have mistaken me for my cousin, Manda Kreutz.”

  The three friends were stunned. Now that they looked closely at the stranger before them, they knew she was not Manda. This young woman was slightly shorter and plumper. But otherwise the cousins looked enough alike to be identical twins.

  “Well, I surely thought you were Manda,” Nancy said, smiling. She introduced herself, Bess, and George. “We met your cousin the other day and have been trying to find her ever since.”

  “I’ll tell you where she lives,” the Amish girl said. “By the way, my name is Melinda Kreutz.”

  George spoke. “We know where Manda’s family lives, but she is not living at home. Didn’t you know this, Melinda?”

  “No,” the Amish girl replied. Then, looking at the others searchingly, she said, “Is something the matter?”

  Bess answered quickly. “You mean you don’t know Manda has run away from home?”

  “Sell iss awschrecklich!” Then Melinda added quickly, “I beg your pardon. You do not understand our language. I mean, it is dreadful. I did not know about Manda, for I do not hear from my cousin often. Our ways are different. I am Church Amish.”

  After hearing the story, she shook her head. “My uncle is too stern but he loves his family. Soon, though, Manda would have married and gone away from home, anyhow. She should not have run away.”

  “You mean Manda has wedding plans?” Bess asked.

  “No. There was no young man I’ve heard of. But all Amish girls marry young,” Melinda explained.

  Melinda was glad that Manda’s father had decided to forgive her and take her back. She hoped that Nancy and her friends would soon find her cousin.

  “Can you give us any hint as to where she may be?” the young detective asked. “We heard she was working for an Amish couple who have recently moved into this area.”

  Melinda studied the sidewalk for several moments. Then she looked up and said, “This may help you. Two days ago a man hurried up to me on the street and began to talk. I guess he thought I was Manda.”

  Nancy asked what he looked like. The girl’s description fitted Roger Hoelt in Amish disguise.

  “Did he say anything to give you an idea of where Manda might be?” George prodded.

  Melinda said that the man had rushed up to her and cried out in Pennsylvania Dutch, “You’ve got to get out of here quick and go back to the schnitz! That witch girl is coming!”

  Nancy was furious. Roger Hoelt had convinced Manda that Nancy was a witch!

  “Please go on, Melinda,” she requested as calmly as she could.

  Melinda said she had told the man that she did not know what he was talking about. He had tried to argue with her and had said, “You can’t run out on my wife and me like that!”

  But when Melinda had insisted that she did not know him, a frightened look suddenly came over his face. He had mumbled something about thinking she was someone else and had gone off.

  “What do you think the man meant by his strange words?” Melinda asked Nancy.

  The detective smiled. “I don’t know, Melinda. You should know better than I. What is a schnitz?”

  Melinda said it was a word with variations of meaning, but that it had to do with apples. In recipes such as schnitz un gnepp, it meant dried apples and dumplings. A schnitzing was an apple paring and drying party.

  “Well, how would you interpret what the man said to you about going back to the schnitz?” George asked Melinda.

  The Amish girl thought it might mean a schnitzing. “I would like to know who the witch girl is.”

  “I can’t tell you,” Nancy replied quickly. Then the three girls said good-by and hurried off.

  “Well, we picked up a good clue, even though we didn’t find Manda,” Bess remarked.

  “A very good clue,”
Nancy agreed. “Now we must locate someone who knows where the schnitz is.” She asked a policeman, but he could not help her.

  The visitors returned to the market and walked among the stalls until they came to Mrs. Glick’s stand. To their amazement, she had sold nearly everything she had brought from the farm.

  “A couple more pie sales and I shall be able to return home,” she said, smiling.

  “That’s fine,” Nancy said. Then she told Mrs. Glick how they had mistaken Melinda Kreutz for Manda. “Do you know where the schnitz is?” she asked.

  Mrs. Glick had never heard of it. “We ask Papa when we get home,” she said. “I’ll be ready to leave in about half an hour.”

  Nancy turned to her friends and suggested they walk around town again and keep an eye open for Roger Hoelt. “Evidently he does come into town. I presume he relies on his disguise to avoid being identified.”

  The girls were about ready to rejoin Mrs. Click when Bess suddenly spied a black horse and carriage in front of a bakery.

  “Look!” she cried. At the same moment a slender middle-aged Amish woman came from the shop and got into the carriage.

  “Do you suppose that could be Mrs. Hoelt?” Bess asked eagerly.

  “There’s one way to find out,” Nancy replied, and she dashed into the bakery to ask the woman’s identity.

  “That was Mrs. Esch,” the girl behind the counter told Nancy.

  “Has she lived here a long time?” Nancy inquired.

  “Oh, yes,” the clerk said.

  Returning to her friends, Nancy sighed and said, “Another false lead.”

  As the three girls walked back to the market, Bess again cried out, “Look down the road! There’s another black horse and Amish carriage.”

  Nancy, Bess, and George rushed toward it. But just as they were almost near enough to see the driver, he started up. The man looked fleetingly in their direction, then slapped his horse, and it galloped off down the road.

  “That was the same man who passed us the other day!” George cried. “He’s Roger Hoelt! Come on! We must catch him!”