The Face at the Window

Nancy struggled to control her fright and disgust. She realized she must keep calm. “George! ” she gasped, and then when her friend didn’t wake, she called, “George! ” again more loudly.

“Wha... What? ” George sat upright in bed, rubbing her eyes.

“Help me! ” Nancy said, keeping her eyes on the terrifying creature. By now, it had almost reached her shoulder!

George started to ask what was wrong – then gasped in dismay as she saw the spider.

“It’s a black widow! ” Nancy said. “Get the bathroom glass and turn on all the lights! ”

Swiftly, George did as her friend asked. Then Nancy flicked the spider from her arm onto the white sheet, and George quickly imprisoned it under the inverted glass!

“Whew! ” Nancy breathed a sigh of relief, then jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom to get the waxed paper bag that had been used to seal the clean glass.

With this as a cover, held tightly in place by a rubber band, the spider was soon safely bottled up and consigned to the medicine cabinet overnight.

“Bess told me about the spider in your car, ” George said, still wide-eyed. “This must be the other one that was stolen, right? ”

Nancy nodded. “Whoever did it obviously slipped the black widow into out room while we were at the opera.”

The next morning as they drove back to River Heights, George insisted on holding the glass. “I’ll feel safer being able to see where this little black devil is! ” she said ruefully.

Paul Taggart was both grateful and apologetic when they returned the poisonous creature to his collection. “From now on, I’ll redouble security – especially on this specimen! ” he promised.

On Monday morning, Nancy prepared for her trip to the New York bank to examine Oscar Larue’s desk book. In case this might lead to a further investigation in Manhattan or its surrounding area, she packed a small overnight bag and promised Hannah she would call her from the city. After breakfast she set out with her father, who was to drop her off at the train station on the way to his law office.

“Nancy dear, be careful. And call me if you need anything, ” Carson Drew said as he kissed his daughter good-bye.

At the bank and trust company in New York, Nancy was referred to Mr. Corder, a dignified, taciturn bank officer, who took her to a room downstairs and seated her at a table. Then he disappeared, presumably to enter the vault and get the book which Attorney Howard Emmett had arranged for her t see. He soon came back, handed her the item in question, and sat down in an armchair in one corner of the room, where he busied himself in studying a sheaf of financial statements.

Nancy, meanwhile began leafing through Oscar Larue’s desk book. Her pulse skittered as she came to the F’s, and a moment later, her tense expression burst into a grin of satisfaction. Among the names listed was that of Sweeney Flint!

No address was given, but there was a phone number opposite his name. After writing down the number, Nancy gave the book back to Mr. Corder and smilingly thanked him. He unbent enough to return her smile.

Before leaving the bank, Nancy went to a phone booth in the lobby and dialed Flint’s number. A woman’s nasal voice answered.

“Sweeney Flint? Nah. Never heard of him, ” she responded to Nancy’s query. Must be an old listing – I’ve had this number for the last six months.” And the woman hung up curtly.

Nancy realized then that tracing the mysterious Sweeney Flint was not going to be quick and easy. She decided to find a hotel room.

Once located and settled in her room, Nancy called Hannah to let the housekeeper know where she was staying. Then she set about getting information from the telephone company. A few calls, however, soon convinced her that the company was extremely reticent when it came to giving out data on its subscribers.

Nancy sat with her chin in her hand and thought. “looks like I’m going to need contacts on this case, ” she said to herself. “Maybe I should start with Police Chief McGinnis.”

Her spirits rose as the chief answered her ring cheerfully. “Matter of fact, I was going to call you this afternoon, Nancy. I have a good friend in the New York Police Department. Through him, I just found out that Sweeney Flint’s a known con man. But he’s never been caught, so they have no record on him – no arrests, no photo, no fingerprints! ”

“Gee, ” Nancy said, “I have his old phone number, but the telephone company won’t give me any address to go with it.”

“Well, I’m sure my friend can help. Detective Al Barnwell, his name is. Give me the number and let me call him. Then either he or I’ll get back to you.”

While she waited, Nancy had lunch sent up to her room. She had just finished eating and was pacing the floor restlessly when the phone rang.

“Al Barnwell here, Miss Drew. Sorry to have taken so long, but I have the information. That phone was installed in the Mantell Building on East Twentieth.” He gave her the exact address and added, “Not a very good neighborhood. The building’s owned by Eisman & Luft. If I can help you any further, let me know.”

After thanking him and promising to pass on any information she gleaned on Sweeney Flint, Nancy hung up.

At last she had something to work on! Snatching up her purse, she went down in the elevator, turned in her key at the desk, and hurried out to catch a taxi. By the time she paid off the cabby in front of the Mantell Building, it was 4: 00 P.M. Nancy pushed open the door and went in.

The dim little lobby offered an elevator and a stairway. Rather than trust the creaky lift, she walked up to the next floor and opened the first door she came to with a business name on it.

A droopy-jowled man with lank hair looked up from some papers he was shuffling. Nancy asked if he remembered a tenant named Sweeney Flint.

“Nope, just been here a month myself. Better check with the landlord.”

“How about the janitor or superintendent? ”

“You kidding? You can never find those bums! They wouldn’t know, anyhow, so why waste your time? Check with the landlord, like I said.” He gave her the address and resumed sorting papers.

By now, the rush hour traffic was in full swing. Nancy battled through it but found it impossible to catch a cab, so she ended up walking the twenty-odd blocks to the building in which the firm Eisman & Luft was located.

“Sorry, girlie – we’re closing, ” a fat, cigar-chewing man told her as she walked in their offices. When Nancy asked about tracing a tenant, he laughed. “I doubt we have any record, but you can check back tomorrow. Leave your name, if you like.”

Nancy made her way back to the hotel glumly.

“Nancy! ” a familiar voice greeted her as she entered the lobby.

“Ned! Oh, Ned! How good to see you! Is anything wrong? ”

Ned laughed. “Not a thing, now that you’re here! ” He gave her a big hug, then added, “Eugene Horvath’s been trying to reach you. He’s gotten some fresh threats and he’s frightened. But he thinks that with your help, he may be able to trap the crook. So he asked me to find you.”

“Will you come with me to the island, Ned? ”

“You bet! His cruiser will pick us up at the Battery pier.”

After a brief discussion, Nancy hastily got her things from her room and checked out of the hotel, while Ned rustled up some food for them to eat on the boat. Half an hour later, they were boarding Horvath’s motor cruiser.

With his chauffeur-valet Sandor, at the helm, the boat was soon plowing its way out of New York harbor. Nancy and Ned enjoyed the gorgeous sunset as they ate.

Dusk had closed in and night was falling by the time they reached Moonlight Island. They found Eugene Horvath waiting tensely in the den of his beautiful Greek-columned mansion.

He bounded to his feet as they entered, his face twitching with fear. “Thank heavens you’re here! ” he exclaimed. “The radio-telephone’s gone dead, and a few minutes ago I saw Sweeney Flint’s face at the window! ”