Could she trap the thief in this disguise! Nancy wondered

In a short while Nancy was on her way. She parked her car in a nice neighborhood several blocks from Doty’s rooming house. Then, hunching her shoulders and lowering her head, she walked the rest of the distance. An untidy landlady answered her knock.

“What do you want? ” she bellowed, glaring at the old woman before her.

A crude letter holder hung on the wall. Chalked onto it were several names and room numbers. Doty’s was 22.

“I come t’ clean up Mr. Doty’s room, ” Nancy announced. “Kin I start right now? Just tell me where you keep everything and open his door, please. I’ll be in and out in a jiffy.”

The red-haired woman looked surprised but led Nancy up the sagging stairway. “All the cleaning stuff’s in the closet down the hall. His room’s over there. Door’s always unlocked. I can’t figure that guy. He’s been out for almost two days and wants his room cleaned. For who? The mice? ”

Without waiting for an answer, the landlady started downstairs, leaving Nancy alone. The young sleuth opened the door to Spike Doty’s room. It was shabby and contained only a desk, a bed, and a chair, all piled with old newspapers and torn envelopes. She pretended to straighten up the room, hunting through the papers for a clue to any accomplices of Doty’s or to his whereabouts if he had left town.

“What if he has gone to Little Palm Island! ” Nancy frowned at the possibility.

As she continued to “clean up, ” a car stopped in front of the apartment house, but she was unaware of this. Fred and Irene Brown, somewhat disguised, alighted. They presented themselves at the door and inquired about Spike Doty.

“For someone who’s not around he sure gets enough visitors, ” the landlady said irritably.

“Who else came here? ” Fred Brown asked quickly.

“The cleaning woman for one. Look, I’m getting tired answering questions. Doty’s not here. That’s all I know.”

“We do hate to take up your time, but could we talk somewhere in private? ” Mrs. Brown inquired with exaggerated politeness. “We’re Mr. and Mrs. Fred Brown.”

As she spoke, a young man brushed past them and started upstairs.

“Wait a minute, fella. You don’t live here, ” the landlady shouted after him.

“I’m visiting a friend, ” he called back, without turning around.

The annoyed woman threw up her hands in disgust and shook her head, then turned to the couple. “In here, ” she said and led them into a small living room.

The Browns asked a few more questions. “This cleaning woman you mentioned, do you know how we can get in touch with her? ” the man asked.

“You won’t have to go far. She’s still upstairs.”

At that moment Nancy was about ready to give up what was proving to be a fruitless search.

“A wasted afternoon! ” she admonished herself. “I’d better do a little cleaning before the landlady comes barging in. Or before Doty returns! ”

She had just folded the last newspaper when the knob began turning and the door creaked open.