The Clue of the Dancing Puppet

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER I - The Mysterious Dancer

  CHAPTER II - A Startling Call

  CHAPTER III - An Enlightening Scene

  CHAPTER IV - Stage Gossip

  CHAPTER V - Moonlight Sleuthing

  CHAPTER VI - The Witch

  CHAPTER VII - An Actress’s Threat

  CHAPTER VIII - The Alarming Rehearsal

  CHAPTER IX - Shadowing

  CHAPTER X - An Excited Patron

  CHAPTER XI - The Incriminating Mark

  CHAPTER XII - Puppet Snatcher

  CHAPTER XIII - A Surprising Command

  CHAPTER XIV - Nancy’s New Role

  CHAPTER XV - Curtain Call!

  CHAPTER XVI - Aliases

  CHAPTER XVII - The Chase

  CHAPTER XVIII - The Hollow Laugh

  CHAPTER XIX - A Puppeteer’s Secret

  CHAPTER XX - An Amazing Revelation

  THE CLUE OF THE DANCING PUPPET

  WHEN the eerie performances of a life-size puppet begin to haunt the old Van Pelt estate, where an amateur acting group —the Footlighters—have their theater, Nancy Drew is called upon to unravel the baffling mystery.

  From the moment the pretty detective and her friends Bess and George arrive at the mansion, the dancing puppet puzzle is further complicated by Tammi Whitlock, the Footlighters’ temperamental leading lady, and Emmet Calhoun a Shakespearean actor.

  Nancy’s search of the mansion’s dark, musty attic for clues to the weird mystery starts a frightening chain reaction. A phone call from a stranger with a witchlike, cackling voice warns her to “Get out !” Next, an encounter with two jewel theft suspects adds another perplexing angle to the puzzle.

  Finally, when Nancy sees the life-size puppet flitting across the moonlit lawn and chases it, she learns that someone with a sinister motive is determined to keep her from solving the case. Is it one of the Footlighters? Or is it an outsider?

  Unknowingly, Nancy places herself in even greater danger when she is persuaded to perform in the Footlighters’ current show. As the young detective unravels the threads of this tangled mystery, Carolyn Keene fans will follow Nancy from clue to clue in spine-tingling excitement.

  The puppet’s left hand lowered menacingly

  Copyright © 1990, 1962 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 : 978-1-101-07740-5

  2008 Printing

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  CHAPTER I

  The Mysterious Dancer

  “I WONDER why Dad sent for me,” Nancy said to Mr. Drew’s pleasant secretary, as she waited in the outer room of his law offices.

  Miss Johnson smiled. “I would guess it’s some kind of a mystery your father wants you to solve. He’ll soon be finished with the client he has in there. Tell me, how are Bess and George?”

  Nancy, titian blond and attractive, chuckled. “At the moment Bess is—well, stage-struck. She has been reducing in order to get a part in one of the Footlighters’ plays.”

  “Oh, the amateur group,” said Miss Johnson.

  “Yes. Bess belongs to it and has been trying to interest George and me,” Nancy replied. “But I thought it might tie me down too much if a mystery came along for me to work on. And George has been busy playing in a series of tennis tournaments.”

  George Fayne, a bright-eyed, athletic girl, and pretty Bess Marvin were cousins. They often found themselves involved in mysteries with Nancy Drew, who was their closest friend.

  At this moment Miss Johnson’s desk phone buzzed. She picked it up. “Yes, Mr. Drew.” The secretary turned to Nancy. “Your father wants you to come in and meet his client. He’s an actor,” she added.

  “An actor!” Nancy echoed, intrigued. She arose and entered her father’s office.

  Mr. Drew kissed his daughter, then he said, “Nancy, I’d like to present Mr. Hamilton Spencer.”

  Nancy shook hands with the tall, slender man. She guessed from his graying hair that he was about sixty years of age. His voice was deep and resonant, and he had a winning smile.

  “Mr. Spencer is a professional actor, Nancy,” Mr. Drew went on. “He and his wife have been engaged by the Footlighters to coach their plays. I met Mr. and Mrs. Spencer when I was asked to draw up their contract.”

  Nancy listened attentively, but she was sure this information was not the reason her father had asked her to come downtown.

  To Mr. Spencer, she said, “My friend Bess Marvin tells me the old Van Pelt estate, which was given to the Footlighters, is ideal for your performances.”

  “Yes, it is,” Mr. Spencer replied. “The first floor of the house is given over to offices and dressing rooms. Mrs. Spencer and I and a friend live on the second floor. The large hay barn is our theater.”

  As he paused, looking at Mr. Drew, the lawyer smiled. “Please tell Nancy your story. Since she’s an amateur detective, I think this mystery would intrigue her.”

  Mr. Spencer reddened a bit, and Nancy sensed he was embarrassed to think that a girl of eighteen might solve a mystery which was baffling a man of his years and experience.

  “For several months after we moved to the Footlighters’ new home,” he began, “everything was peaceful. Then recently a strange occurrence has been repeated several times. I must confess it has my wife and me jittery. At night a life-size puppet in ballet costume has been seen dancing in various places—on the lawn, on the deserted stage, even on the flat roof of a shed.”

  “It sounds fantastic,” Nancy remarked. “Are you sure this isn’t a real person?”

  “Indeed I am,” Mr. Spencer answered. “I’ve been an actor for enough years to differentiate between live actors and artificial ones. I don’t know how she is operated, but this dancer is a puppet all right—of the marionette type. What I want to know is, where does she come from and why?”

  “Have you ever followed the puppet?” Nancy asked Mr. Spencer.

  “Oh, yes, twice. But before I could get near her, she disappeared. That ghostly dancer is getting me down. I can’t sleep. Something has to be done!”

  Mr. Drew interrupted the actor, who was showing signs of becoming unnerved by his own recital. “Nancy, the Spencers feel that there must be something behind this strange performance—perhaps even some sinister plot against the Footlighters.”

  Mr. Spencer nodded vigorously. “Common sense tells me there must be. Nancy, would you be willing to come out to the estate and stay with us awhile? From what your father has told me, you might be able to bring about an end to this strange drama.”

  Nancy turned to her father. “You know I’d love to go,” she said. “Is it all right with you, Dad?”

  Mr. Drew smiled. “I’ll give my consent on one condition—that Bess and George go with you. George Fayne, a girl, is Bess Marvin’s cousin,” he explained to Mr. Spencer.

  “My wife Margo and I would be very happy to have all three girls as our guests,” Mr. Spencer said quickly. He rose to leave. “Nancy, will you ask your friends and phone me their answer this evening? And please don’t disappoint me.”

  As the actor put his hand on the doorknob, he said, “This whole thing must be kept very confidential.” He snapped the fingers of his free hand. “I have it! Nancy and George must join the Footlighters. Then no one will question their reason for being around the estate.”

&
nbsp; Mr. Spencer had barely left when Miss Johnson announced that another client was waiting.

  “I’ll see him in a minute,” Mr. Drew told her. Then he turned to Nancy. “Just one word of advice, young lady. Be careful! You know, you’re the only detective I have!”

  Nancy laughed, kissed her father, and said, “See you at supper?”

  “Yes. And I’ll be starved. Tell Hannah to prepare one of her super-duper dinners.” Hannah Gruen was the pleasant, faithful housekeeper who had managed the Drew household and helped to rear Nancy since she was three. At that time Mrs. Drew had passed away from a sudden illness.

  As soon as Nancy reached home she phoned Bess and George, inviting them to supper and suggesting they come early, as she had something important to tell them. When they accepted, Nancy and Mrs. Gruen discussed the menu.

  “Let’s cook the roast that’s in the refrigerator,” Nancy suggested. “And have strawberry shortcake for dessert with all the trimmings. Oh, I forgot. Bess is dieting. We’d better change that to apple snow pudding with thin custard sauce.”

  Nancy offered to set the table and had just finished when the bell rang. Bess and George arrived together. George literally dragged Nancy into the living room.

  “Out with it! Something important’s brewing!” she exclaimed.

  Nancy laughed, then told the story of the mysterious dancing puppet. George frowned, puzzled. Bess drew in a deep breath. She gave a mock shiver, then burst out:

  “How divine! Imagine living in the same house with a real actor and actress!”

  “And a supernatural one,” George reminded her cousin.

  “But Nancy didn’t say the dancing puppet came into the house,” Bess argued.

  “The puppet may enter any time. She’s already been in the theater,” George teased.

  Nancy interrupted to ask, “Can you girls come with me? I promised to let Mr. Spencer know tonight.”

  “Of course.”

  “You bet.”

  At once, Nancy called the actor, who was delighted. “We’ll expect you tomorrow afternoon,” he told her. “Margo and I don’t brunch until one. We’re late sleepers on account of the night shows.”

  When Nancy returned, she told George about the plan to have them join the Footlighters.

  “Wonderful!” Bess exclaimed. “You’ll love it. And, Nancy, you’ll get a part right away. You often had the lead in the school plays.”

  “No, thanks. I’m going to the estate to do some detective work. I’ll sign up to help paint scenery.”

  George grinned. “I couldn’t recite a nursery rhyme. Put me down for odd jobs like scene shifting—my muscles are hard!”

  Bess went to the phone and called Janet Wood, the secretary of the Footlighters’ membership committee. “There’s to be a meeting tonight,” said Janet, who was a good friend of Bess’s. “I’ll bring the application blanks to Nancy’s house and wait while they fill them out. Then I’ll hand the cards over to the committee tonight to be voted on. But Nancy and George will get in. Don’t worry.”

  Janet Wood arrived in half an hour. Nancy and George filled out the cards, and Bess and Janet acted as sponsors. “I’m thrilled that you’re joining,” said Janet, as she was leaving. “I’ll call you tonight after the meeting.”

  True to her promise, Janet phoned Bess at Nancy’s house soon after ten. The one-sided conversation lasted a long while. Finally Bess returned to the living room.

  “You’ll get formal notices in the mail,” she said without enthusiasm. “But you’re in.”

  George snorted. “You seem about as happy over it as an actress who didn’t pass her screen test.”

  “I’m puzzled,” Bess admitted. “Since you’re new members, perhaps I shouldn’t tell you. But because you’re also detectives, I will.”

  Bess revealed that the membership committee, including the president and Janet, consisted of seven men and women. One of them, Tammi Whitlock, had spoken very forcefully against admitting Nancy and George.

  “You don’t know Tammi. She’s rather new here in River Heights,” Bess explained. “Been here about six months. Tammi came from California and is living in town with an aunt. She’s our leading lady at the moment, and I must say she’s an excellent actress.”

  “But why would she vote against us?” George queried. “I could see where she might not want any competition in the acting line, and she may have heard about Nancy’s ability from the others. But of course Nancy didn’t sign up for that. So why the big objection from Tammi?”

  Nancy had no comment other than to say she was eager to meet Tammi Whitlock and find out the reason for her objections, if possible.

  “There’s a performance tomorrow night,” Bess said. “We have only four a week. You can meet Tammi after the show. Well, let’s get home, George. Shall we be ready to start about three o’clock tomorrow, Nancy? And will you pick us up in your convertible?”

  “Sure thing,” Nancy promised, as she saw her friends to the door.

  Promptly at three o’clock the next day, Nancy picked up the girls, and Bess directed her along one of the tree-shaded roads on the outskirts of River Heights. Several old houses, set well back from the road, could be glimpsed through the heavy growth of trees and shrubbery.

  “Next driveway on your left,” Bess said presently.

  At the entrance an artistic wooden plaque hanging from a tree announced:THE FOOTLIGHTERS

  The long, tree-lined driveway curved to the right, then to the left. Ahead, beyond a wide lawn, stood a large white three-story house of the early nineteen hundred period. The windows on the main floor were long, narrow, and shuttered. On the second floor, there were many bays and dormers, each with a carved arch above it.

  Nancy parked near the front porch, which extended across the front of the house, and the girls carried their bags into the wide center hall. Mr. Spencer, smiling broadly, came down the stairs and was introduced to George.

  “Mighty glad you’re here,” he said in welcome. “My wife is out, and I have to run over to the theater immediately. But I’ll show you to your rooms first.”

  He took Nancy’s bag, telling the other girls he would come back for theirs. The steep stairway led to a long hallway on the second floor, with bedrooms on each side and a rear stairway down to the kitchen.

  “Margo and I have the front room,” Mr. Spencer said. “You girls will have this one, which also faces the front, and the one opposite, which overlooks the rear gardens. This door”—he pointed to a third door in the center of the hall—“hides a stairway to the attic. I’ve never been up there”—his eyes twinkled—“but, Nancy, I’m sure that’s one place you’ll want to investigate.”

  “There’s one more door—at the end of the hall near the kitchen stairway,” George remarked. “Is that where your friend sleeps?”

  “Yes. Emmet Calhoun is over at the theater right now. Well, make yourselves at home, girls. See you later.” He left them.

  Nancy chose the rear bedroom, which gave her a good view of the playhouse. It was a large red barn with a smaller wing. To one side of the building was a wide parking area.

  The girls began to unpack their belongings. In a few minutes Nancy was settled. “I’m going to follow Mr. Spencer’s hint and take a peek at the attic,” she said to the others. She walked to the door, opened it, and ascended the steps.

  In the cousins’ room, Bess giggled. “Nancy just can’t wait to get started on her mystery. I’d like to have a little fun first.”

  “Like doing what—playing hide-and-seek in the haymow?” George scoffed.

  At this moment the girls heard a loud thump in the attic. It was followed immediately by a second one. Bess and George ran to the attic stairway.

  “Nancy! Are you all right?” they called anxiously.

  There was no answer.

  CHAPTER II

  A Startling Call

  “SOMETHING has happened to Nancy!” Bess exclaimed fearfully.

  George was already racing up
the attic stairway. “I’m afraid so,” she muttered.

  With Bess at her heels, George reached the large, cluttered attic. Three small windows, dusty and full of cobwebs, let in just enough light for the girls to see Nancy lying unconscious on the floor. They rushed to her side.

  “Oh, Nancy!” Bess wailed.

  George, who was more practical-minded, felt Nancy’s pulse. “It’s strong,” she reported. “This is a temporary blackout. Nancy must have hit her head.”

  Both girls looked around. Nearby lay a doll’s trunk. It was upside down and spread open. Directly above it was a wide beam.

  “Maybe this trunk fell off the beam and hit Nancy,” Bess suggested.

  “It doesn’t look heavy enough to knock anyone out,” George replied. “Bess, run downstairs and get some cold water and a towel.”

  Bess hastened off on the first-aid errand and soon returned with the water. George bathed Nancy’s forehead with the wet towel. In a few seconds the young detective opened her eyes.

  “Thank goodness you’re all right,” Bess said. “Do you know what hit you?”

  “N-no,” Nancy answered weakly. “Whatever it was hit me from the back.”

  George, sure that something heavier than the doll trunk had injured Nancy, was searching the attic floor. Not far from where her friend lay, she made a discovery.

  “Look!” she exclaimed. “A cannon ball! I guess this is what did it,” she went on thoughtfully. “It’s not covered with dust like everything else up here, so it must have been inside the trunk.”

  Nancy sat up and smiled wryly. “I guess I’m lucky it only hit me a glancing blow.”

  George was angry. “Whoever put a cannon ball in a doll’s trunk must have been crazy!”

  Before she had time to go on with her tirade, the girls were startled to hear the stairs creak.

  “Sh-h,” Nancy warned in a whisper. “Let’s see who’s coming up.”

  To their astonishment no one appeared. “Someone was eavesdropping,” Nancy said.