Library Clue

As she stood in the warehouse fighting despair, Nancy stared at the dust-specked beam of sunlight slanting down from one of the high windows.

Suddenly she snapped her fingers. She had just remembered seeing a fire detector on the far side wall when she made her first inspection of the warehouse interior.

Groping in her bag, Nancy pulled out a small magnifying glass and a pad of notepaper. She tore off piece, then held the glass so as to focus the sunbeam into a concentrated pinpoint of light and heat.

As soon as the paper began to smolder and burn, Nancy hurried over and held it up as close as she could to the fire detector. Almost at once the device actuated an alarm bell!

Nancy dropped the burning paper and stamped it out, prying that the alarm would also register at the nearest fire station, or else that someone would report it.

Within minutes, the clanging bells and wailing sirens of fire engines could be heard coming closer. Soon they halted just outside.

Taking her flashlight, Nancy threw it up at one of the windows as hard as she could. With a crash the glass shattered and Nancy began to yell.

“Hey, what’s going on! Who’s in there? ” a fireman bellowed.

“I’m locked in! ” Nancy cried.

In seconds, the door was smashed open and Nancy dashed out into the sunshine. The firemen listened sympathetically to her story, impressed with her ingenious method of escape.

Almost as if in response to her next thought, a patrol car pulled up to the curb. Nancy recognized one of the policemen in it as Officer Morgan, whom she had met before.

She quickly repeated her story to them while the fire trucks pulled away.

“What did this fake delivery man look like? ” asked Officer Morgan’s partner.

Nancy shrugged regretfully. “Sorry, but I never did get a good look at his face.”

However, she described the brown sedan and gave the police its license number.\ “this may do the trick, ” said Officer Morgan, taking down the information. ‘I’ll radio word to headquarters right away! ”

“Incidentally, ” Nancy asked his partner as Morgan got into the police car again, “do you happen to know who owns this building? ”

The officer frowned and scratched his forehead. “Well, I believe it used to be occupied by Shand Trucking Company. But it’s been empty for some time now, so I don’t know whether they still own it or not.”

Nancy mused as she drove home. Once again, it seemed, Simon Shand had entered the picture. On the other hand, the fact that the phony delivery man had used the warehouse as a trap did not necessarily prove that Shand himself was involved. Assuming the driver was a professional crook, once he sensed he was being tailed, he might simply have picked out an obviously empty building and used a picklock or skeleton key to gain entry and set a trap for his pursuer.

As soon as she arrived home, Nancy called directory assistance and requested the number of Jack Vernon’s campaign office in Bradley. Then she dialed the number.

A woman campaign worker answered. She explained that the candidate was away from his office, keeping several speaking dates. However, at Nancy’s urgent request, she gave the teenager a tentative appointment to see him the following afternoon. “Mind you, I can’t promise Mr. Vernon will talk to you, ” the woman cautioned. “he has an awfully busy schedule just now.”

‘Please tell him it’s very important, ” said Nancy and hung up before the woman could make any further excuses.

Shortly before dinner that evening, Police Chief McGinnis telephoned. He reported that the brown sedan had been found abandoned in the street. “But it was a stolen car, ” he added, “so finding it doesn’t help much.”

Nor had Kim Vernon been very helpful or cooperative. She claimed to have paid little or no attention to the delivery man’s appearance, and said she had hurled the frightening cobweb racket far out into the river. But she declined to say why it had upset her so much.

“Any luck yet, in identifying that squint-eyed thief with the broken nose? ” Nancy inquired.

“Not so far. But we’ll keep trying.”

Nancy’s appointment with Jack Vernon was for three o’clock on Tuesday afternoon. The budding politician had set up his campaign headquarters in an office above a shop in Bradley.

“A pleasure to see you again, Nancy, ” he said, rising to greet her.

Nancy quickly told him of Kim’s hysterical reaction to the cobwebbed racket, and her own narrow escape after following the mystery man who had delivered it.

‘So you see, ” she concluded, “your sister may be in danger. Frankly, if you know anything that might help, I think it’s your duty to talk.”

The tall, dark-haired young political candidate was clearly upset by the news.. After pacing about the office for a few moments, he nodded anxiously. “All right. But we can’t talk here.”

As he spoke, he shot a worried glance at the outer office, scarcely larger than the one they were in, where several volunteers were stuffing envelopes with brochures for his mail campaign.

“Where would you suggest? ” said Nancy.

Vernon pulled thoughtfully on his lower lip. “Tell you what. If you could meet me in Riverside Park tomorrow night, sometime between seven-thirty and eight, we could sit and talk. I’ll be waiting just inside the Park Drive entrance.”

“Good. I’ll be there.” After thanking him and promising to keep anything he told her in strict confidence, Nancy left Jack Vernon’s office.

She planned to eat an early dinner before starting for Oceanview to witness the Footlighters’ performance of A Scream in the Dark at the festival that evening. But after a quick glance at her watch, Nancy decided she would have time to stop off at the public library on her way home.

Parking outside the red brick building, Nancy went in and began looking through the reference volumes that listed magazine articles several years back. Tonight she might be seeing Renzo Scaglia and Eugene Horvath again, so she thought it might be useful to find out more about Madame Arachne Onides.

Soon she was seated at a table in a quiet alcove with a number of magazines containing pieces about the famous prima donna. Suddenly, turning the page of one magazine, Nancy caught her breath. There, in full color, was a close-up photograph of Madame Arachne, and pinned to the front of her gown was a magnificent red gemstone ornament – an ornament that resembled a jeweled spider!