Password to Larkspur Lane, Page 2

  “The caller—a man—told me to look for an old black sedan. Since I know Mrs. Smith has one, I thought nothing of it. After passing you on the road, Nancy, I spotted the car, parked, and went up to it. The back door swung open. As I leaned forward to look inside, my shoulders were seized and I was yanked to the floor. Before I could move, a hood was dropped over my head and a man on each side held me firmly.”

  “How far did you ride?” Nancy asked.

  “A long time—about an hour. Not a word was spoken during the trip.”

  “Where did they take you?” Mr. Drew asked.

  “I don’t know. But some of the roads were bumpy. I think we were out in the country. When the hood was finally removed I found myself in what appeared to be a regular hospital room.”

  “Was there a patient?” Nancy asked eagerly.

  “Yes, but not Mrs. Smith. Someone explained a clerk had made a mistake. I didn’t learn the patient’s name. She was an elderly woman, suffering from a dislocated shoulder. There was just one other person in the room—a nurse. She was a large, hard-faced woman and warned me not to talk to the patient.”

  “Did you try?” Mr. Drew queried.

  “No, but all the time I was working, it seemed as if she wanted to tell me something. Her eyes kept flashing signals which I could not understand. Then, while I was taking her pulse, the nurse turned for a moment and the woman slipped this into my hand.”

  Dr. Spire reached into his pocket and held out a thin, gold-chain bracelet with a small gold shield dangling from it.

  “How dainty!” Nancy exclaimed as she took the bracelet to examine it. Set into the bangle was a garnet.

  “There’s an inscription over the jewel,” she said. “ ‘To my darling Mary from Joe.’ ” Nancy turned the shield over. “On the other side is a coat of arms. Perhaps we could trace it and find out the woman’s name. If she’s being held against her will, we ought to rescue her!”

  “It’s worth a try,” her father agreed.

  “Keep the bracelet, Nancy,” the doctor said, “and see what you can learn about it.” Then he continued his story. “When I finished, two men came in and replaced the hood. Then I was driven back to my car. A couple of times when I tried to resist, they got rough.”

  “How dreadful!” Nancy burst out. “Dr. Spire, do you think the woman was able to talk, but had been ordered not to?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Did you see or hear anything that would help us find the place?”

  Dr. Spire smiled. “I learned the password to the place.”

  “Marvelous!” said Nancy. “What was it?”

  He replied, “As we turned into a driveway—I could tell by the creak of gates—the driver said ‘Bluebells’ and someone answered ‘Pass.’ ”

  Nancy’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “This is where my story comes in, Dr. Spire.” Quickly she told him about the pigeon, the plane, and the telegram. “Whoever is holding the woman prisoner must have been afraid you had heard the password. So he decided to change it.”

  “Yes, that would have been just about five o’clock, as the pigeon message said,” the physician agreed. “The phone call here was to warn me not to try finding the place again or using the password to get in if I did.”

  Carson Drew spoke up. “Richard, you must report this to the police.”

  Just then the telephone rang. When the physician finished the call, he said, “Emergency at the hospital. I’ll have to go. Carson, will you and Nancy report the incident to the police for me?”

  “We’ll stop at headquarters,” the lawyer replied.

  As the Drews left the house, Nancy noticed a shadowy figure across the street. “Are we being watched?” the young sleuth wondered.

  While driving downtown Nancy noted a pair of headlights reflected in her mirror. One was dimmer than the other. The uneven lights stayed close behind all the way to police headquarters. Nancy slowed down in front of the building, and the car, a sleek black sedan, went past.

  “No place to park here, Dad,” she said. “Suppose you hop out and start telling your story. I’ll join you as soon as I find a parking space.”

  Mr. Drew got out, and a few minutes later Nancy pulled into the far side of a parking lot at the corner. When she stepped out of the car, a hulking figure emerged from the nearby shadows.

  A feeling of apprehension swept over Nancy, and she tried to dart past the man. But a powerful hand seized her arm and jerked her back.

  “Not so fast!” the stranger growled in a deep voice.

  CHAPTER III

  A Chase

  “LET me go or I’ll scream!” Nancy cried out.

  Instantly the man released her arm, but he swiftly stepped in front of her. “Wait a minute,” he commanded. “You want to help your father, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nancy said warily. She studied the husky, broad-shouldered man. He had heavy brows, deep-set eyes, and a cruel mouth.

  “You’re Nancy Drew, aren’t you?”

  Nancy hesitated, afraid he might be trying to find her father to harm him. “Are you sure you’re talking to the right person?” she asked.

  “Okay,” the man said bitterly, “play it smart. It’s been years since I saw Drew and maybe I’m wrong. But I could be right, so you take a message.”

  Nancy did not reply, and the stranger went on, “Tell Carson Drew to mind his own business or he’s in for a bad shock.”

  “If you’re through,” Nancy said coldly, “I’ll go now.”

  The man stepped aside and she hurried from the parking lot, her heart pounding. As she reached the sidewalk Nancy came face to face with two friends.

  “Why, Nancy Drew!” exclaimed Jean Moss. “I haven’t seen you in weeks!” Her escort, Bill Wright, added, “Been solving any mysteries lately?”

  Nancy’s heart sank. Had the man in the parking lot heard them? She managed to talk pleasantly with the couple for a few minutes but she was worried.

  As Jean and Bill moved off, Nancy heard a soft laugh from the shadows. A moment later a deep voice said mockingly, “Good night, Miss Drew.” The speaker melted into the darkness.

  Biting her lip in vexation, Nancy ran to police headquarters. The officer on duty directed her to the Detective Bureau. Here Mr. Drew was conferring with Lieutenant Mulligan, a red-faced, brawny man with thinning hair. He knew the Drews only by reputation.

  Once again Nancy told her story. The detective jotted down the partial license number of the suspicious car.

  When Nancy handed him the bracelet, he said, “Hmm. Has an inscription, but it’s old. Mary and Joe could have been dead for years. No last name or dates, either. Afraid it won’t be much use to us.”

  “If you don’t mind,” Nancy said, “I’d like to see if I can trace the owner.”

  “Go ahead,” the lieutenant said and gave it back. “We’ll check out the car’s license number, but probably the kidnappers are using phony plates.”

  As Nancy and her father walked to the parking lot, she told him about the stranger who had accosted her there and the warning message.

  Mr. Drew frowned. “I don’t know who he could be. Some crank, I suppose.”

  Cars were closely parked on either side of Nancy’s convertible, so she gave her full attention to pulling out of the tight space. Soon after she had driven into the street and turned toward home, headlights appeared in her mirror. The right one was dim!

  “Dad, the same car that followed us before is behind us,” Nancy said tensely. “I’m afraid the driver’s the man who wants to harm you! Let’s try to shake him.”

  Keeping within the speed limit, Nancy drove into the residential section of the city, taking every cutoff and winding street she knew. Meanwhile Mr. Drew watched the car behind, which continued to follow.

  “It seems useless to try getting away,” he said finally. “I’d like to get a good look at the driver.”

  “All right,” Nancy replied.

  S
he increased her speed, widening the distance between the two cars, until she approached an intersection where there was a bright overhead light. She swung around, her tires squealing on the asphalt, and stopped short, facing her pursuer.

  When he came abreast of them, Carson Drew gasped. “Trail him!” the lawyer ordered as the driver zoomed off.

  Nancy turned again and pursued the sedan. Just as she was about to overtake it, the traffic light ahead turned red. The driver rode straight through, rounded a corner, and disappeared.

  Nancy sighed. “We’ll never find him now.”

  “Never mind,” said Mr. Drew. “It was a good try. Let’s go home.”

  “Who was that man, Dad?” Nancy asked.

  “Adam Thorne, an escaped convict. Thank goodness he didn’t hurt you.”

  Nancy shuddered. “What was he jailed for?”

  “Thorne was given ten years for embezzling the assets of an estate. While in jail he became very bitter and at times violent.”

  “But what’s his interest in you?” Nancy queried.

  Mr. Drew explained that Thorne had been a River Heights attorney. “He was disbarred prior to his trial and I was in charge of gathering the evidence against him.”

  “I see,” said Nancy. “Dad, I have a hunch Adam Thorne is involved in the bluebell mystery. He must have been spying outside Dr. Spire’s house and recognized you. Probably he’s not only looking for revenge, but wants to keep us from working on the case.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right. For Pete’s sake be careful, Nancy.”

  “You too, Dad.”

  A few minutes later the Drews reached home. While Nancy checked on Hannah, who was asleep, Mr. Drew called Lieutenant Mulligan and reported his daughter’s encounter with Adam Thorne and the resultant, unsuccessful chase.

  “If Thorne’s tied in with Dr. Spire’s kidnapping,” said Mulligan, “he’ll stop at nothing. I’ll broadcast a bulletin immediately.”

  The next morning Nancy was up early and went to talk to Hannah Gruen.

  “I have good news for you,” the housekeeper said. “My niece Effie has offered to come here and work while I’m laid up.”

  “Good. Effie’s fun.”

  “And scatterbrained sometimes,” Hannah remarked.

  After breakfast Nancy drove off to get Effie Schneider. When she rang the bell of the small frame cottage, the door was opened by Effie’s mother.

  “Hello, Mrs. Schneider,” said Nancy. “How are you?”

  “Fine, thanks. Please come in. Effie isn’t dressed yet. She’s been reading a movie magazine instead of putting on her clothes.... Effie!” she called.

  “Here I am, Mom,” a high-pitched voice replied. “Hi, Nancy!” said the girl as she walked into the living room munching a banana.

  “Hello, Effie,” Nancy greeted the thin, seventeen-year-old girl.

  Effie had light-blond hair, which she wore close-cropped with feathery bangs over her forehead. She was dressed in a Chinese-style pink kimono, with high-heeled satin mules.

  “This outfit is like the one Ling Su wore in the movie, ‘The Chinese Wall Mystery,’ ” Effie remarked, making an Oriental bow.

  Nancy grinned, but Mrs. Schneider said tartly, “Hurry up and put on street clothes, Effie.” As her daughter went off, Mrs. Schneider turned to Nancy. “Once Effie stops mooning about movie stars and singers, she’s really a good worker and a dandy cook.”

  Nancy had her doubts about this, but later was agreeably surprised when Effie prepared a delicious luncheon of chicken salad, hot rolls, and iced tea. She would not let Nancy help her.

  “Aunt Hannah told me you’re working on a mystery,” Effie said. “That’s exciting. You keep your mind on the case. I’ll do the work around the house. I once read a mystery about a circus girl who was shot out of a cannon and disappeared. It took three detectives a whole month to find her. Bet you can’t guess where.”

  Nancy grinned. “Inside the cannon?”

  “Oh gee, how’d you know?” Effie said. “You must have read the story.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Bewildered, Effie shook her head and walked off. After eating lunch, Nancy decided to start tracing the owner of the bracelet. Half an hour later she walked into Butler and Stone’s jewelry store and asked for Mr. Stone, who was a personal friend.

  “Well, Nancy, what can I do for you?” the jeweler asked cordially. “Are you interested in a diamond-studded detective badge today?” he teased.

  Nancy laughed. “Do you sell them?” she countered.

  “Oh sure. To the police,” the jeweler replied with a grin.

  Nancy took the bracelet from her purse. “Mr. Stone, could you trace this coat of arms?”

  The jeweler held the bracelet toward the window to get a better look at the heraldic design on the shield. As he did, Nancy noticed a large woman in a pink butterfly print dress looking through the plate-glass window

  “Just a moment,” Nancy said quickly to Mr. Stone. “Is there some other place—”

  The jeweler understood at once. “Another mystery?” he asked.

  When Nancy nodded, he motioned to a private office at the back of the store. Once again Mr. Stone examined the bracelet. “This was made in Victorian times,” he announced. “I doubt if it was designed around here. Hmm, an attractive coat of arms. Three mullets dexter and a Maltese cross sinister; crest, a falcon’s head embattled, with the motto ‘Esse quam videre.’

  “Every authentic coat of arms is a matter of record,” Mr. Stone explained. “It will take time, but we will be able to trace the family, if not the individual owner. May I keep the bracelet temporarily?”

  Nancy hesitated. “It doesn’t belong to me,” she said. “Could you make a copy of the crest?”

  “Certainly. Please take a seat.” Mr. Stone excused himself and went out. In fifteen minutes he returned, gave the bracelet to Nancy, and said he would send the tracing to Mr. Abelard de Gotha, an expert on coats of arms.

  “Thank you. I’ll stop by in a couple of days to see if you’ve heard about it,” Nancy said.

  As the young detective left the store her thoughts turned to the sick woman who had given the bracelet to Dr. Spire.

  “I wonder who she is, poor thing.”

  At the corner Nancy waited with a group of people for the light to change. As the walk signal came on, someone pushed roughly past her and darted out into the street. Nancy recognized the pink butterfly print dress and at the same moment realized that her arm felt strangely light.

  “My handbag!” Nancy gasped. “It’s gone!”

  The woman was hurrying ahead of the crowd. Nancy was sure she had stolen the bag and sprinted after her.

  “Stop!” Nancy shouted, but the woman broke into a run.

  Nancy put on a spurt of speed and caught up to her on the far sidewalk. “Give me back my—”

  The big woman whirled and gave Nancy a powerful push that sent her reeling. She fell backward off the curb!

  CHAPTER IV

  Frightened Grandparents

  SEVERAL quick-acting pedestrians caught Nancy just before she hit the pavement.

  “Are you hurt?” exclaimed a middle-aged woman as she helped the girl to her feet. “I saw that awful woman push you. Were you trying to catch her?”

  Nancy took a deep breath and said, “Yes. She stole my purse,” then added, “I’m all right. Thanks so much.”

  Suddenly Nancy spotted the thief hurrying into Brent’s Department Store down the street. She dashed after her and hastened through the revolving doors.

  Looking around quickly, Nancy saw a flash of pink near the bank of elevators. By the time she reached them, the woman had gone up in one of the cars.

  Nancy darted to the nearby escalator and rushed up, two steps at a time. On the second floor she sped to the elevators but saw by the indicator light that the car she wanted had already left. The woman was not in sight.

  “What luck!” Nancy murmured, darting back to the escalator.

/>   A few moments later she arrived breathless on the third floor. As Nancy looked toward the elevator, the door was starting to close. No one was inside. The woman she was after must have stepped off here!

  “May I help you?” asked a salesgirl. “We have some lovely—”

  “No, no!” Nancy panted. “I’m after a thief! A woman in a pink print dress. Did you see her get off the elevator?”

  The girl’s eyes grew wide. “A thief!” she exclaimed. “Why, yes, I did see her, but I don’t know where she went. What did she take?”

  “My purse,” said Nancy.

  “I’ll get my supervisor,” said the salesgirl.

  Nancy glanced around the third floor, where many customers were examining racks of dresses. Where could the woman be hiding?

  “Dressing rooms,” Nancy decided. She saw that the Fall Clothes Department had fewer customers than the others. “I’ll start there.”

  She hastened across the floor and peered through an archway into a narrow aisle. There was a row of curtained cubicles along one wall.

  Quietly Nancy peeked into the first room. Empty! In the next a stout woman was struggling into a tight dress. She did not see Nancy. Quickly the young detective moved along the row of dressing rooms. In the fifth room she found the thief!

  The woman was leaning against the wall, panting. Nancy’s open handbag lay on a shelf beside her and in one hand the woman clutched the gold-chain bracelet.

  “I’ll take that!” Nancy said, stepping into the cubicle.

  The woman froze in amazement for a moment, then swiftly seized the handbag and hurled it at Nancy. As the girl ducked, the contents scattered and the woman tried to dash past. Nancy seized her wrist and caught hold of the bracelet.

  “Help! Thief!” she shouted.

  Instantly the woman let go of the gold chain, broke free, and raced into the corridor, with Nancy at her heels. The thief darted through the arch, but as Nancy reached it, two saleswomen arrived, blocking the way.