The Sign of the Twisted Candles (6 page)

“Carol, you were superb!” Nancy whispered, hugging the girl. “It gave Asa Sidney and Dad another precious five minutes.”

The young detective raced up the steps after the two men. She reached them just as they burst into the tower room.

“IN the name of the law I demand that you stop!” Peter Boonton shouted as he entered the tower room.

“Don’t pay any attention to him!” Jacob Sidney answered coolly.

Nancy saw Asa Sidney in his favorite chair near the great twisted candle. Standing at a nearby table was Carson Drew, staring calmly over his shoulder at the intruders. Raymond Hill was seated at the table, a pen in his hand. Apparently he had just finished using it because he capped the pen and returned it to his pocket.

“What branch of the law do you represent?” Mr. Drew asked the newcomers, gathering up the papers.

Boonton stood stock-still, his mouth opening and closing. “I—I’m not an officer,” he said finally. “But hasn’t a relative any rights in a case like this?”

“A case like what?” Mr. Drew asked. “I’ve just finished drawing Mr. Asa Sidney’s will, which Mr. Hill, here, has witnessed. Is there anything illegal about that?”

“I demand to see the document,” Jacob Sidney announced, striding forward, “to be sure this is the document of a person who is mentally sound.”

“I assure you it is,” the lawyer said, somewhat annoyed.

Jacob spoke up. “We don’t want any ideas put into this old man’s head.”

The remark angered Nancy. Her father’s code of justice was rigid and unyielding. Her blue eyes flashing, she said, “Mr. Sidney, I think you owe my father an apology and Mr. Asa Sidney too!”

Jacob Sidney gave an ingratiating smile. “Little spitfire, eh? Who are you, anyhow? Everybody seems to be running this show except those who should be.”

Angry, Asa Sidney arose and faced his relatives. “Why is it,” he said, “that you have left me alone for over two years, and have suddenly become concerned about my mental condition and my affairs? Is it because you suspect that I won’t last long and you want my money? I assure you I am just as able to take care of my own business today as I was two years ago.”

“I don’t doubt it, Uncle Asa,” Jacob Sidney said in mollifying tones. “I just want to warn you against putting too much confidence in strangers.”

“And not only strangers, but scheming relatives,” Peter Boonton interjected. “You must know that
I
have your best interests at heart, Uncle Asa.”

“Just the same,” said the old man, “a stranger may prove to be a great friend.” He clapped Nancy on the shoulder, finally letting his arm rest there affectionately.

He turned to his nephews. “When I need your advice I’ll send for you,” he said testily.

“I was only trying to help,” Jacob muttered.

“Do you really wish to be of service to me?” Asa asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes, indeed,” Jacob replied, eager to ingratiate himself with the old man.

“Let me do it,” Peter offered, thrusting himself forward.

“Well, you may both do it,” Asa said, stroking his long beard.

“What shall we do?” chorused the nephews.

“Get out!” Asa thundered in a tone that surprised everyone. “Get out of here and stay out until I ask you to come back! You’ve sickened me, both of you. You think I have money and you’re fluttering around me like a pair of vultures waiting for me to die! Go!”

His nephews paled at their schemes being ex posed like this before the lawyer, the banker and, most of all, before a young girl. Nancy felt Asa’s hand tremble as it rested on her shoulder. He swayed as he clung for a moment to her arm to steady himself.

His nephews backed toward the door. Nancy feared that another outburst from old Asa would seriously sap his feeble strength, so she slipped toward the door to speed the men’s departure.

“Please be calm and reasonable,” Peter Boonton said in a low, soothing tone. “I was impetuous, and I beg you to bear me no ill will, Uncle.”

Asa wearily signaled to Nancy to open the door. She grasped the knob and swung the door inward.

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

Frank Jemitt was crouched just outside!

“I—I dropped something. I—I—I—” he stammered. The innkeeper stared at Nancy and the others in dismay.

“I—I dropped something,” he repeated. “It was when I was cleaning this morning.”

“You were eavesdropping,” Boonton said, advancing toward the man.

“Never!” Jemitt wailed. “I wouldn’t do such a thing!”

He teetered for a moment on the top step, then with a yell of fright toppled over and rolled headlong down the stairs. He picked himself up on the landing.

“Are—are you hurt?” Nancy gasped.

“I’ll sue you, Boonton, for causing me to lose my balance!” Jemitt shouted, rubbing his head and one shin. “I might have broken my neck!”

“Frank,” Asa called, “when you get all the way down, open the front door for these two gentlemen.”

All but Peter and Jacob smiled. The two men silently descended the stairway.

As they vanished, Asa Sidney sighed deeply. “I hope they never return.”

“I’ll tell you a secret about your family,” said Nancy. “They’re not all like your nephews. The two girls who were here with me to celebrate your birthday are Bess Marvin and George Fayne.”

“Well, well,” Asa Sidney said, a smile coming over his face, “I’m glad to hear there are a few charming people in my family tree.”

Mr. Hill said he must return to the bank. He shook hands with Asa Sidney, then spoke to Nancy’s father.

“I didn’t know that acting as witness to the signing of a will could become such an interesting adventure.... And, Carson, I’ll certainly remember all you told me at our little conference. Is there anything further?”

“No, I’m sure you understand the general situation as well as I do,” Mr. Drew replied. “Shall Nancy drive you back to the bank?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Mr. Hill said. “I’ll phone my chauffeur who is no doubt waiting there for me, and have him come here. It must be very close to 1 nchtime.”

“I don’t have to consult my watch to agree with you.” Mr. Drew smiled. “How about you, Nancy?”

“I could eat—indeed I could! But I can wait, too.”

“Good! I want to question Jemitt,” her father said. “Well, then, good-by for the present, Raymond.”

As he left the tower, and Mr. Drew paused in the doorway for another word with old Mr. Sidney, soft footfalls were heard on the stairs. Carol appeared, carrying a loaded tray.

“I—I made some sandwiches,” she said shyly. “And a pitcher of cocoa.”

“Wonderful! Wonderful!” the lawyer exclaimed. “And you must eat with us, Carol. I should like to become better acquainted with you.”

“Carol is a very good girl, my only comfort and helper,” Asa Sidney said. “My dear child, sit here beside me. You look very tired.”

“I’m not tired, really,” the young waitress replied stoutly, putting the tray on the table and lifting the cloth that covered it. “Now, please help yourselves. I can’t stay, because some people have arrived and I must serve them.”

She hurried off and the others began to eat. When they finished, Nancy said, “Did Mr. Hill tell you men about the chest I put in the bank vault?”

“No,” they answered.

“Mr. Sidney,” Nancy went on, “did you ask Mr. Jemitt to bury your chest that used to be under that table?” She pointed.

The old man looked at the spot in amazement. “Why, no, of course not. What do you know about it?”

Nancy told her story and added, “I hope I did the right thing. Anyway, here is the receipt.” She took it from her handbag and handed it to Mr. Sidney.

“You certainly used your head,” the old man told her. “Thanks.” Then he chuckled. “Outwitting Jemitt, who’s three times your age, is an accomplishment. You’re proud of her, aren’t you, Mr. Drew?”

The lawyer looked grave. “This is a very serious matter, Nancy. I’m relieved that everything turned out all right, but I think we should ask Jemitt for an explanation of his action.”

He went downstairs and a few minutes later returned with the manager of The Twisted Candles. Frank Jemitt was told about the chest.

A look of fright came over his face for the fraction of a second, then he said smoothly, “Sure I took the chest. Mr. Sidney slept later than usual and I was afraid those conniving relatives of his would come up here and steal it. I assume the contents are valuable?”

Asa Sidney did not reply. He seemed to be lost in thought.

Nancy and her father exchanged glances. They doubted Jemitt’s story but had to admit his motive might have been an honest one.

“All right, Frank,” Asa Sidney said finally, “I accept your explanation, but don’t take anything more out of this house.”

The innkeeper bowed and without a word hurried off.

Asa Sidney said to the Drews, “There are valuable papers and some silver pieces in the chest.” Nancy had speculated correctly. After a pause he added, “I realize I am at a great disadvantage being up here alone. Perhaps I depend too much on Carol to keep me informed on the management downstairs.”

Nancy thought, “And Carol’s too considerate to upset him by telling about the way she’s treated and the run-down condition of the inn.”

A faraway look came into the old man’s eyes. “It is my turn to reveal a secret. My memory isn’t what it used to be. My dear wife and I had camouflaged cupboards built in this house and hid many things of hers and mine in them, but I’ve forgotten where they are. She took hers away. Let’s hope the rest haven’t been found and stolen. I hereby appoint you, Nancy, and Carol—and your friends Bess and George—to do some searching. But one word of caution. It must be done without the knowledge of the Jemitts.”

“Oh, I’d love that!” Nancy exclaimed. “Okay, Dad?” Her father nodded approval and she grinned happily. “But I’ll have to eat an awful lot of meals here and call on you very often to make my sleuthing look natural.”

“Remember,” the old man warned, “secrecy! Secrecy!”

MR. DREW said he would meet Nancy downstairs —he wanted to speak to Frank Jemitt before leaving. His daughter lingered to ask Asa Sidney a few questions.

“Please tell me which bedroom you and your wife used to occupy.”

“The master bedroom at the east end of the hall overlooking the driveway.”

“Do the Jemitts use it now?” Nancy queried.

“No, they’ve taken one at the west end. Carol’s is opposite theirs. Mine and two others used to be given to travelers, but no guests have been here for a couple of years. Emma said the place was making enough money without it.”

Nancy made no comment. Instead she asked, “Would there be any special way to identify the hiding places of the articles?”

“Oh yes. By the design of a twisted candle. It is also on boxes and chests.”

“That will make it easy,” Nancy said.

With a sudden feeling of affection and pity for the old man, she kissed him and said good-by, promising to start her search the next day.

At the front porch Nancy came upon another dramatic scene and stepped back a couple of feet into the hall so as not to intrude. Her father was talking to Frank Jemitt, whose back was against an open window in the dining room.

“What was your income from the pastureland last year?” Mr. Drew was saying.

“Only about two hundred dollars.”

“Did you give Mr. Sidney an accounting of it?”

“I spent the money fixing up the place.”

“In general repairs to the building, or in the restaurant equipment?” Mr. Drew asked.

“I—I forget,” Jemitt said, wiping his brow. “General repairs, of course. Sure, that’s right.”

“The house hasn’t been painted,” Mr. Drew commented. “The grounds are in bad shape. What improvements did you make?”

“Say, I’m not on the witness stand!” Jemitt snarled. “I’m not going to answer questions you got no business asking. If you think there’s anything crooked going on, maybe you’re right. Keep an eye on those two guys who were here this morning.”

Nancy had stood so quietly that she had not been noticed by Mrs. Jemitt, who had sneaked in from the kitchen. The woman cautiously took up a position at the window near her husband.

As Mr. Drew paced up and down the porch, Mrs. Jemitt, using the drapery for concealment, whispered something to Mr. Jemitt. He slyly pulled a long envelope from beneath his jacket and held it behind him. His wife’s hand reached out and took it.

“Yes, Mr. Drew,” Jemitt went on, “and what’s more I think each one of those fellows suspects the other of sneaking things out of this house.”

Nancy stepped softly from the hall and walked up behind Mrs. Jemitt, who smiled as she glanced at the letter, then turned noiselessly away. On her face was a look of secret triumph, but the expression was quickly wiped away as Nancy confronted her.

“What do you want?” the woman snapped.

“Nothing at all,” Nancy said with an innocent air. “I was just looking for an envelope—Oh, you’ve found it, haven’t you?”

“Not at all,” Mrs. Jemitt replied, concealing the envelope beneath her apron. “This is for me and it just came in the morning mail.”

“Perhaps you made a mistake?” Nancy remarked. “May I look at the address?”

“You may not,” Mrs. Jemitt retorted. “I guess a body has a right to some privacy in her own house, even if it is open to the public.”

She brushed past Nancy, only to meet Mr. Drew. Attracted by the sharp voices, he had entered the room to investigate.

“What’s the trouble?” he asked.

“No trouble at all, thank you,” Mrs. Jemitt said. “Just a little misunderstanding.”

Nancy spoke up. “I happened to see Mr. Jemitt pass an envelope through the window to his wife, and thought it might—er—be for Mr. Sidney.”