The Phantom of Pine Hill (2 page)

The others laughed and Nancy said, “
I
hope I’ll meet this apparition. I’m sure he’s a real live person. What we must find out right now is how he enters the library.”

“Right now,” said Bess, “we’d better dress for the Omega Chi Epsilon party.”

Reluctantly Nancy agreed. “But I’ll start work on the mystery as soon as possible,” she declared.

A short time later the three girls, wearing pretty afternoon dresses, drove off to the campus. The fraternity house held a gay, chattering crowd of students and girls, sipping cool drinks and eating tiny sandwiches. Nancy, Bess, and George knew many of the young people from previous parties. They were whisked from group to group by their dates.

Like Ned, Burt Eddleton and Dave Evans were athletic and played on the football team. Burt was husky and blond, while Dave, who had fair hair and green eyes, was rangy.

Presently a thin young man about twenty-five years old, with a slightly sagging jaw and wearing an ill-fitting waiter’s coat, came toward the group. He was carrying a tray of pink lemonade on the palm of one hand, and grinning in a rather silly fashion at the guests. As he reached Nancy the glasses suddenly slid. The waiter tried to save them, but the next moment they showered their contents onto Nancy, then crashed to the floor.

Ned said angrily, “Why don’t you watch what you’re doing, Fred!”

“I’m sorry,” the young man mumbled. He began to gather up the broken glass.

Nancy looked in dismay at her white dress, the front now stained and wet. “I’ll have to go home and change,” she told Ned.

At once he offered to drive her to Pine HilL When they reached the house, Uncle John and Mrs. Holman met them and were annoyed upon hearing of the accident.

“Fred Jenkins did it,” Ned explained. “He works for you sometimes, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” the housekeeper replied. “Fred’s clumsy here, too, but I’ve grown used to him. Can I help you, Nancy?”

“Oh no. Thank you, anyhow.” She hurried up the stairway, took off her dress, and put on a flowered print. “I think I’ll wear my pearl necklace,” Nancy decided, and reached into the pocket of her suitcase for the box. She opened it, then gasped.

Nancy closed her eyes for a moment, refusing to believe the truth. A thought instantly came to her. Had the phantom stolen her jewelry?

She returned the empty box, closed the bag, and slowly went downstairs. Nancy hated to tell Mr. Rorick what had happened but felt it her duty to do so in view of the other mysterious happenings at the house. Uncle John, Mrs. Holman, and Ned were astounded and immediately Mr. Rorick said he would pay for a new necklace.

“That won’t be necessary because Dad insured it,” Nancy said. “But don’t you think the police should be notified?”

“I suppose so. I’ll attend to that. You run back to your party.”

After Nancy had written out a description of the necklace, she and Ned drove away. He said sympathetically, “You’ve had a lot more excitement today than you bargained for!”

She smiled. “I loved it—except about my neck lace.”

After the fraternity party was over, Nancy’s friends went to a country restaurant to have dinner and dance. It was midnight by the time the three girls reached home and tumbled into bed.

Nancy fell asleep immediately, but later a creaking sound awakened her.

“Someone’s walking around downstairs,” she thought, and in an instant was out of bed, thrusting her arms into a robe.

Nancy tiptoed into the dark hall and looked down the spiral stairway. At first there was only silence, then suddenly a door squeaked. In a few moments a shadow moved through the hall past the front windows. Then it disappeared.

The young sleuth pondered for several seconds on what to do. Should she arouse the others in the house? But this would alert the intruder, she knew, and he would escape.

“I’d better go alone and learn what I can!” Nancy decided, and cautiously started down the stairs.

WHEN Nancy reached the first floor she stood motionless. There was not a sound. Was someone watching her? She felt a chill race down her spine.

Then softly a door closed. From the location of the sound she judged it to be the outside kitchen door. Her eyes completely adjusted to the dimness, Nancy tiptoed around the staircase to an open door which led into the kitchen.

Through a window Nancy had a clear view of the moonlit garden and lawn. No one was hurrying away. Was she too late to see the intruder? And where had he gone?

Just then Nancy noticed a tiny light bobbing in the grove of pine trees, and recalled Mrs. Holman’s remarks about the phantom. “I wonder if he’s the person who was in the house,” Nancy thought, “or was it someone else?”

She overcame a desire to go outside and investigate. Although brave, the young detective tried not to take unnecessary chances. Nevertheless, from her first case,
The Secret of the Old Clock
to her most recent,
The Clue of the Whistling Bag-pipes,
she had often met danger while sleuthing.

After making sure the intruder had not unlatched the rear and front doors or any windows, Nancy went back to bed. Despite her interrupted sleep, she was the first one awake in the morning. After bathing and dressing, she hurried downstairs to examine the house for clues to the intruder.

The padlock on the library door was still in place. “He certainly couldn’t have gone in there,” Nancy thought. “Since he didn’t pass me near the staircase, he couldn’t have doubled back into the kitchen.”

Only one door remained—the open one to the left at the rear of the hall. Nancy walked through the doorway into a charming, completely pine-paneled dining room. The big mahogany table in the center was flanked with graceful chairs. Fine old porcelain pieces lined the plate rail.

On the wall adjoining the library was a large brick fireplace with a mantelshelf. Candles in brass holders stood at each end of it.

An open door on the opposite wall led into a butler’s pantry, and from there Nancy stepped into the kitchen. “I’m sure this was the phantom’s route,” she thought. “Maybe I scared him off!”

At that moment Mrs. Holman came into the kitchen. When she heard about the intruder, the housekeeper became upset. “It’s dreadful—the goings-on here! But I can’t make the police believe anything’s wrong. I sometimes think they suspect me!”

“Oh, I’m sure they don’t,” Nancy said reassuringly.

As Mrs. Holman started to prepare breakfast, Nancy said she wanted to check something, then would be right back to help. She hurried to the fireplace in the dining room, leaned down, and tapped its sooty brick walls. Nancy hoped to detect a hollow area that might mean a secret entrance to the library, but found nothing.

Just as she and Mrs. Holman had breakfast ready, Mr. Rorick, Bess, and George came downstairs. The elderly man was dressed for traveling and told the girls he was leaving for a class reunion at his college several hundred miles away.

He chuckled. “I expect you to have my mystery solved by the time I get back,” he said.

“I hope I can,” Nancy answered.

After they sat down at the table, Nancy told the others what had happened the night before. They were astounded and Uncle John remarked, “It may have been a real burglar instead of our phantom.”

“I don’t think so,” Mrs. Holman spoke up. “None of the silver is missing. I checked when I set the table.”

Bess dug a spoon into her grapefruit. “I don’t know which is worse—burglars or spooks. I just hope both of them leave me alone!”

When the group finished breakfast, Mr. Rorick said he would give the key to the library padlock to Mrs. Holman so his “girl detective force” could investigate at any time.

“Thank you,” said Nancy.

“Before I go, would you be interested in hearing a little of the Rorick family history?” he asked.

“Yes, indeed. It’s just possible there might be some connection between that and your phantom,” Nancy suggested.

“Hmm,” said Uncle John. “I never thought of that. You may be right. Perhaps it has something to do with the lost gifts.”

The girls listened intently as he went on, “When my ancestor, George Rorick, came to this country he brought a French bride with him—a young noblewoman. She kept in close touch with her family, and when her daughter Abigail was to be married, the relatives in France sent a chest of wedding gifts. But the steamship it came on had an explosion aboard and sank in the river not far from Settlers’ Cove. A short time before, a letter and a key came to Abigail from her uncle in France. I still have the key hidden away. The letter is hanging on the wall. I’ll get it.”

He excused himself and went to the library, but returned in a minute with a framed letter. It was dated 1835, and was written in French in an old-fashioned, precise script. The girls tried to translate it but finally gave up. Many of the words were no longer in use.

Uncle John turned the frame over. Pasted on the back was an English translation. The very gracious letter said the writer’s family sent felicitations and wished the bride-to-be and her husband great happiness. A chest containing presents—a wedding dress, veil, fan, slippers, and a very special gift—was being shipped on a freighter but should reach Miss Abigail Rorick in plenty of time.

“How exciting!” said Bess.

Nancy was still reading. Abigail’s uncle was at the time a member of the court of Louis Phillipe. The queen herself had selected the material for the gown and veil in Paris. The beautiful fan was a gift from her.

“They must have been lovely,” Nancy said softly.

George asked, “What was the family’s other gift to Abigail?”

“No one knows, but I’m sure it was valuable,” Uncle John answered. “The report was that when the
Lucy
Belle sank, most of those aboard and the cargo were lost. A few of the passengers and crew were saved, but probably took only some personal possessions ashore—if any. We don’t know if the gifts went down or not. And in those days no one could dive deep enough to retrieve cargo. By now the lighter pieces would have shifted and been buried in mud.”

“But it is possible that in recent times scuba divers may have removed the cargo,” Nancy remarked.

Mr. Rorick smiled. “I doubt it. The story of the Lucy Belle has long since been forgotten.”

Nancy asked thoughtfully, “Where did the people who were saved go, Uncle John?”

“I don’t know. Maybe some of the old books in my library will tell you. There are many I’ve never read.”

Bess asked if the
Lucy
Belle had come directly from France. Mr. Rorick shook his head. “The gifts were shipped across the Atlantic to Baltimore. Then they came overland by stagecoach to Pittsburgh. There they were put on the
Lucy Belle
and came up the Ohio and into this tributary. Abigail received notice of this.”

Uncle John took the old letter back to the library, then went for his suitcase. Within minutes he was in his car, waving farewell and wishing the girls luck.

But there was one more delay before Nancy could start investigating the library. A young detective arrived to take Nancy’s fingerprints, since she had been out the night before when he came to investigate the case of the missing necklace.

After he had gone, Mrs. Holman unfastened the padlocked door and the girls went in. Like the living room, the library extended from the front of the house to the back.

“Oh,” said Bess, “I’ve never seen so many books in one room. There must be thousands of them!”

Every wall was lined with shelves from floor to ceiling and filled with double rows of books. Many of the volumes looked old and fragile. A quick survey indicated a wide variety of subjects.

There were two windows on each of the outside walls, all of them securely locked. The fireplace was a duplicate of the one in the dining room and was back to back with it.

Nancy again wondered if there were a passage between them. Then she noted the undisturbed ashes and bits of charred wood.

“If there’s a secret opening,” Nancy reasoned, “the phantom hasn’t used it.” Nevertheless, she tested the brick facing, but found no sign of a hidden entrance.

Next, Nancy studied the layout of the room. It contained a large desk which stood in the center, several small Oriental rugs, and a safe under one front window. A long red-leather couch and matching club chairs were scattered about.

“Pretty cozy place to browse,” George remarked. “Well, Nancy, where do we start hunting for the phantom?”

“I suggest you begin looking through the books for a clue to why the phantom is interested in this room. Mrs. Holman, will you see if anything is missing? Bess, help me roll up these rugs. There may be a trap door underneath.”

Presently the housekeeper reported that nothing was gone so far as she knew. Nancy and Bess did not discover a trap door, and relaid the rugs. Mrs. Holman was about to leave the room, when George suddenly cried out: