The Clue in the Crumbling Wall by Carolyn Keene
Mr. Drew nodded. “The thought of her admirers feeling pity for her may have been too much for Juliana to bear. Perhaps she dropped out of sight on purpose!”
“She probably took an assumed name in order to avoid publicity, then disappeared because she didn’t want to be a burden to her sister,” Nancy said. “Juliana’s pride kept her from marrying Walter Heath.” Nancy paused a moment. “Oh, Dad, we’re really getting somewhere!”
At the main desk Nancy and her father tried to obtain the doctor’s and the nurse’s address.
“Dr. Barnes died three years ago,” the receptionist said. “As for Emily Foster, I have an old address, but I understand she left the place some time ago. However, the people who live there might be able to tell you where she is.”
While Mr. Drew registered at the local motel for his daughter and himself, Nancy hurried on foot to the designated address. To her disappointment she found the residence occupied by new tenants who had never heard of Emily Foster.
“Another blind alley!” Nancy sighed as she started back to join her father.
As she walked along the street Nancy became aware of a man walking a little distance behind her. At first she thought nothing of it, but after three blocks she concluded someone must be following her.
Nancy quickened her pace. After six blocks, she still had not shaken the person and decided to get a good look at him. She dropped her handbag on purpose. As she turned to pick it up, Nancy gazed directly at the man. He wore a brown suit and had a sharp, angular face and dark eyes.
When he realized that Nancy knew she was being followed, he wheeled around and turned down a side street.
“He was tailing me!” Nancy thought.
She had never seen the man before and wondered why he was trailing her. She was eager to tell her father, but found that he had invited a client to dinner. By ten o’clock, after the caller had gone, she had stopped thinking about the incident.
Before retiring, father and daughter sat down in Mr. Drew’s bedroom to discuss the mystery.
“Isn’t Emily Foster our best lead yet?” Nancy asked.
Mr. Drew did not answer; in fact, for several seconds he had not been paying strict attention to Nancy’s conversation. Now, so suddenly that the young detective was startled, he tiptoed to the door and yanked it open.
A man in a brown suit crouched just outside. Thrown off balance, he fell forward into the room.
CHAPTER XI
A Warning
“So you were eavesdropping!” Mr. Drew said sternly as he pulled the man to his feet.
“No, that’s not true!” the fellow stammered. After recovering his balance, he tried to retreat.
Mr. Drew blocked the doorway. “Sit down!” he ordered the man into the room. “We want to talk to you.”
Nancy recognized the man as the one who had followed her.
“What were you doing outside my door?” Mr. Drew asked him sharply.
“Nothing,” he replied in a sullen voice. “I thought this room belonged to a friend.”
“That’s hard to believe, but easy enough to check. What’s his name?”
“None of your business.”
“I can turn you over to the police.”
Nancy spoke up. “I can report to them that you trailed me today!”
The stranger squirmed uneasily in the chair. “You can’t prove anything!”
“This man followed you today?” Mr. Drew asked his daughter in surprise.
“Yes. I forgot to tell you about it.”
“That settles it,” the lawyer said. “We’ll turn him over to the police for questioning.”
“No, no! Don’t do that! I’ll tell anything you want to know—except my name,” the stranger said.
“Very well.” The lawyer nodded. “Why were you following my daughter?”
“Because I was paid to do it.”
“By whom?”
“I don’t know the guy’s name.”
“What were your instructions?”
“To make a complete report on where Miss Drew went, whom she talked to, and what she did.”
Mr. Drew turned so that the man could not see him full face. With a wink and a quick movement of his hand he signaled Nancy to step into the adjoining room. For a moment the young detective was puzzled. Then it dawned upon her that her father wanted her to slip quietly downstairs and arrange to have the stranger followed.
“So you won’t tell us your name?” Mr. Drew repeated, facing the stranger once more and walking up so close to him the man could not see Nancy.
“No. I won’t,” the man replied.
Nancy stole noiselessly into the adjoining room. She hastened downstairs and used a public telephone to call police headquarters. After identifying her father and herself, she said, “Please send a plainclothesman at once. I’ll meet him in the lobby and explain everything when he arrives. How will I know him?”
“He’ll pretend to have a bad cold,” the officer said.
Nancy was worried that the detective might not reach the hotel in time. But in less than five minutes a man entered coughing uncontrollably. She told him why he had been called and asked him to trail the eavesdropper.
“Here he comes now!” she whispered as the brown-suited stranger emerged from an elevator. “He must not see me!”
She hid behind a pillar and noticed with satisfaction that the eavesdropper did not realize he was being followed from the hotel. Then she went upstairs.
Mr. Drew praised his daughter for having interpreted his signals correctly. “By the way,” he asked, “have you called Hannah since we left home? There may be some messages for us.”
At once Nancy dialed the Drew number. Hannah Gruen answered.
“I’m glad you phoned,” she said. “I tried to reach you in Hampton, but you had already left.”
“Is anything wrong?”
“Mrs. Fenimore called this morning and wanted to see you.”
“Mrs. Fenimore?” Nancy echoed in curiosity. “Did she say why she called?”
“She wouldn’t tell me over the phone,” Hannah resumed. “When I told her you weren’t home, she said you had to be warned to be careful.”
“Careful of what?”
“She thinks you’re in danger. Oh, Nancy, I’ll be so relieved when you’re home again safe and unharmed.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Nancy assured her. “Don’t worry.”
After completing the call Nancy speculated on why Mrs. Fenimore thought the young detective was in danger. Could the woman have learned that Nancy was to be shadowed? It was too late, she decided, to call Mrs. Fenimore. “I’ll see her tomorrow.”
Nancy and her father waited until midnight to hear from the plainclothesman. When he failed to return to the hotel, they telephoned headquarters. The officer had not checked in yet.
In the morning there was no word either, so Mr. Drew requested that a full report be sent to him in River Heights.
After Nancy arrived home in the afternoon, she lost no time calling on Mrs. Fenimore. The woman was reclining on a couch. She was exhausted from strain and worry.
“I shouldn’t have become so upset,” she said. “But Mr. Hector’s attitude always disturbs me.”
“He came to see you?”
“Yes. I had a dreadful session with him. He asked me so many questions.”
“About your sister?”
The woman nodded. “He wanted to know if I had hired someone to search for Julie.”
“Did you mention my name?”
“Well, I did say you had offered to help me,” Mrs. Fenimore admitted, “though I feel unhappy about having told him. From the way he behaved, I’m sure he intends to make trouble for you.”
“I’m not afraid of Daniel Hector,” Nancy said.
“Oh, but you should have heard him talk! He said he wouldn’t let anyone meddle in his affairs. He acted as if Heath Castle belongs to him!”
“Mr. Hector is worried,” Nancy commented, frownin
“Would you risk going to Heath Castle again, Nancy?”
“I would if I could accomplish something,” the young detective said. “But I believe the mystery may be solved in another way.”
She thought it best not to tell Mrs. Fenimore about the possibility that her sister might have been crippled as a result of an automobile accident. She merely said there was an interesting new lead to follow, one which would not involve her coming in contact with Daniel Hector.
Later, at home, Nancy reviewed the developments in the mystery. Intruders prowling around the Heath estate were looking for something important. She had heard them mention the clue in a stone wall and unnamed items they had already found. Where did Hector fit in? Were they all working together? What—if anything—did the search have to do with Juliana’s disappearance?
“And then there’s the man who was eavesdropping,” Nancy thought as she opened the top drawer of her dresser to get a handkerchief. There lay the torn note she had found in the debris at the Heath factory. In the recent excitement she had forgotten about it.
“This may be my most valuable clue,” she chided herself. “I must try to figure it out.”
She sat down to piece out the message. Just then the telephone rang. The caller was George who wanted to know how the detective work was progressing.
“I have a clue to your stolen clothes,” Nancy said, and told of the shirt at Mrs. Hooper’s.
“Why, the nerve of that woman!” George cried indignantly. “I’m going there at once and demand that she return my property!”
“You can’t prove anything, George,” Nancy said. “Better forget the matter for the time being, and come over here. I have lots to tell you. Bring Bess along.”
“Be there pronto,” George replied and hung up.
“If it was really Teddy who took those clothes,” Nancy reasoned, “what was he doing in the Heath gardens?” She was still trying to figure this out when her friends arrived. Nancy told them everything that had happened on her trip.
“Poor Juliana!” Bess said. “How dreadful to have her career cut off that way!”
“I wish you could have found the nurse Emily Foster,” George added. “Well, what are you going to work on next?”
“This note, or rather, this piece of a note.”
Nancy produced the bit of paper and the girls pored over it for some time, each with a pencil and paper, trying to fill in the lines to form a logical message. Bess was the first one to claim having pieced together the missing words.
“Listen to this,” she said. “I’ve got it!
“ ‘Dear C,
Some place is the secret
which I hid
in a wall. I want to be
famous. If I can sell it, I will be
worthy of you.’ ”
George scoffed. “If he was going to sell it, why would he hide it in a wall?”
“Well, it fits the missing words,” Bess defended herself.
“One guess is as good as another,” Nancy said, then she stared thoughtfully at the paper before her. Suddenly she jumped up from the chair and said, “The solution to this mystery might be right in this very house!”
Without explaining her strange remark, Nancy ran from her room and down the stairs. A few minutes later she returned with a large book.
“How in the world are you going to find Juliana with that?” George asked.
The book contained a collection of colored photographs and descriptions of famous old homes and gardens in England.
“I forgot I had this,” Nancy said, quickly turning the pages. “Look here!”
“Heath Castle!” exclaimed George.
“The original one in England. Only it wasn’t called Heath, of course.”
“And the gardens,” cried Bess as they scanned picture after picture. Nancy was reading a description under one of them when suddenly a paragraph below caught her eyes.
“Listen to this! I think we have the clue we’ve been looking for!”
CHAPTER XII
Secret Entrance
GEORGE and Bess studied the paragraph to which Nancy had pointed. It had been written in Middle English. Nancy had learned in school to read the works of the poet Chaucer, who wrote in that language. Eagerly she translated the quotation.
“‘I have hidden my treasures in the niches of the cloister through which, all unsuspecting, the noble men and fair ladies pass each day to bathe.’”
“Sounds quaint,” Bess said. “But how does it help us?”
“Don’t you see?” Nancy said. “Ira Heath built his estate to resemble the one in England. Probably he and his son knew about the old cloister.”
“Granted.” George nodded. “But so what?”
“If the Heaths had a treasure to hide, wouldn’t their cloister have been a good place to put it?”
“Do you really think they had a treasure?” Bess asked.
“I don’t know,” Nancy replied, “but I have a hunch they did. We know certain men are searching for a clue, but they also mentioned having found other things. Perhaps those were part of the treasure.”
“Is there a cloister in the Heath gardens?” George asked. “I haven’t seen one.”
Nancy turned the page. The three girls looked at the picture on it, which showed a long passageway flanked by columns leading toward a river.
“This is the cloister!” said Nancy excitedly. “Oh, I wonder whether there’s one at Heath Castle!”
“You didn’t notice it from the tower?” Bess inquired.
“N-no,” Nancy answered slowly. “But there was something leading from the castle toward the river—a kind of tunnel covered with vines.”
“I’ll bet that’s it,” George said enthusiastically. “Listen! The bell. Someone’s at the door.”
Nancy went downstairs to see who it was. The caller proved to be Salty.
“And how are ye, lass?” he asked with a smile. “Sorry I can’t give ye any report about that fellow what crashed into ye. I been lookin’ high an’ low for his boat, but I ain’t seen any part o’ her.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful,” Nancy said, then added, “Salty, I’m thinking of going to the Heath gardens by boat. Have you ever noticed a—a sort of tunnel there, leading from the beach?”
“Can’t say I have,” the clam digger replied. “Are you figurin’ on lookin’ for one?”
Nancy smiled as she said, “Perhaps some time when you’re not busy—”
Salty suddenly slapped his thigh and chuckled. “Women!” he said. “They never come right out an’ say what they want. Nancy, I’ll meet you an’ your friends at Campbell’s Landing ten o’clock sharp tomorrow mornin’, barrin’ rain.”
Nancy thanked him. “Another thing, Salty. I’d like to find out about Walter Heath’s experiments. Are you sure you can’t tell me more about them?”
The man shook his head. “I don’t know a thing more. But maybe Sam Weatherby can help ye.”
“The curio dealer?”
“Sam worked at the Heath factory before he went into business for himself. He knew Walt as well as anyone in town.”
“Then I’ll go to see Sam Weatherby!” Nancy said, grateful for the information.
Soon after Salty had gone down the street, Bess and George left for home, promising to be on hand the next morning. Nancy drove to Sam Weatherby’s shop.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he greeted her cheerfully. “Did you bring that pearl and the shell I offered to buy?”
Nancy told him the pearl had been stolen.
“That’s too bad,” the man said sympathetically. “Well, maybe you’ll find a bigger one.”
“I hope so,” Nancy said with a smile. “But right now I’m more interested in Walter Heath’s experiments.”
She told about the pile of crushed and broken whelk shells she had found at the pond. “The co
“You guessed right,” Mr. Weatherby said, eyeing her intently. “So far as I know, Walt had no luck, but he kept working at it. And once he said to me, ‘Sam, even if I don’t succeed in making a fortune in dye, there’s another treasure on my estate.’ Then he winked and said, ‘It’s right in plain sight, too!’”
“What did he mean by that?” Nancy asked.
The dealer shrugged. “Who knows? Walt was like that—full of riddles and secrets. In one way his experimental work brought him luck.”
“How?”
“He found a big pearl; at least, that’s what he told me. Said he was going to present it to a young lady friend of his—a dancer.”
Nancy blinked in astonishment at the revelation. Had he really given the pearl to Juliana?
Or was it hidden in one of the cloister walls? And was that what someone was looking for?
Nancy thanked the curio dealer for his information and turned to leave. An object in the showcase caught her eye. Lying in a velvet-lined case was the antique charm from a man’s watch chain that Daniel Hector had sold to Mr. Weatherby.
“Handsome, isn’t it?” the jeweler remarked, taking the charm from its case. “An old English family design. A genuine heirloom.”
Nancy admired the piece of jewelry. Mr. Weatherby also showed her a pair of earrings, a bracelet, and a brooch, all bearing the same design.
“Daniel Hector sold me this entire set,” Mr. Weatherby revealed. “That lawyer is a hard customer, though. He argues for the last penny.”
“Did he inherit these from English ancestors?” Nancy asked.
“That’s what he said. Between you and me, I think he got them from a client who couldn’t pay a bill.”
Nancy wondered if Hector had received the charm and the other pieces of jewelry honestly, but kept quiet.
When Nancy reached home she learned that during her absence a call had come from Hopewell. Either she or her father was to get in touch with the man who had phoned.
“He was a detective,” Hannah Gruen told her, “and he wouldn’t give me a message.”
Nancy called headquarters at Hopewell. The plainclothesman was out at the time but had left his report for her. The stranger he had shadowed the night before had driven to River Heights. From there he had gone to the abandoned Heath factory to meet another man.