Nancy’s Search

WHILE Nancy stood staring upward, she heard a car stop in front of the house and ran to see who was coming. It was a taxi. A man and a woman, each carrying a suitcase, hurriedly jumped into it. The Wangells were leaving!

“Wait! Stop! ” cried Nancy, darting across the lawn.

Before she could reach them, the driver started off. Either he had not heard her, or he had been told not to pay heed to her call. The taxi gathered speed and disappeared around the corner.

Nancy dashed to her own car. She was determined not to let the Wangells get away.

When she turned the corner, the taxi was not in sight. Nancy drove on for several blocks, looking up and down the intersecting streets, but in vain.

“I’ll try the railroad station, ” she said to herself and drove to it. Again no luck.

Her next stop was at the bus station. The Wangells were not there, and waiting passengers said no taxi had stopped at the place for over fifteen minutes.

“Maybe they went to the airport, ” Nancy thought. But a stop there gained her no information about the Wangells.

She decided that they must have engaged the taxi to take them out of town. The young detective hurried to the office of the Winfield Taxi Company. Perhaps someone on duty could communicate with the driver by radio. As Nancy dashed in, the girl at the desk looked up.

“One of your drivers had a call to 619 Fairview Avenue. Has he returned? ” Nancy asked.

“No.”

“Then please talk to him over your radio, ” said Nancy. “I must find out where his two passengers are going.”

“And why should I do that? ”

“Because it may save a man’s life.”

“Say, who do you think you are? An FBI agent? ”

Nancy knew it was useless to waste any more time arguing with the girl. It would be better to get back to Fairview Avenue. George would be there with the police.

When she returned to the Wangell house, Nancy saw that George had arrived with Officer Riley, who said he had telephoned headquarters for help, since he could not leave his traffic post for long.

George burst out, “Hypers, Nancy, I’ve just about had heart failure. I thought you’d been kidnapped! ”

“Have you tried to get into the house? ” Nancy asked.

Riley nodded. “I rang the doorbell, but there was no response.”

Nancy told them about seeing the couple leave the house, and that she was sure they were the Wangells.

“Did you notice the fluttering handkerchief? ” she asked.

“Where? ” Riley queried.

“I’ll show you.”

She led the way to the side of the house. The wisp of white cloth was no longer in sight!

“It was there. I saw it. Someone was waving it out of that attic window! ” Nancy exclaimed, pointing excitedly. “I suspect someone is imprisoned in that house. I’m going to call and see if he answers.”

Nancy cupped her hands to her mouth and made a yodeling sound. Then she called as loudly as she could:

“Terry! Terry Scott! It’s Nancy. Can you hear me? ”

The three held their breath, but not a whisper came from the shuttered house.

“Let me try, ” said George. She in turn called Terry, but there was no response.

Riley smiled tolerantly. “You sure you haven’t been imagining things, Miss Drew? ”

Nancy was indignant. “Of course not! ” Once more she shouted, “Terry! ”

There was no answer from the Wangell house. But next door a window was flung open and a stout woman leaned out.

“What is it? ” she cried. “Is there a fire? Has something happened? ”

At the same time an old man, with spectacles resting across his forehead, came bustling out.

“Say, why are you shouting? ” he asked crossly.

Riley said, “These young ladies think someone they know is imprisoned in here. Have you seen the Wangells lately? ”

The old man snorted. “Them? I don’t pay them no mind. Don’t like ’em. Phonies.”

“What do you mean? ” George asked.

“Just what I say. Not decent folks. Not neighborly. Not nice.”

“But haven’t you noticed anything? ” Nancy persisted. “Your house is pretty close to the Wangells’. Are you sure you haven’t heard any disturbance? ”

The old man suddenly straightened. “Yesterday. I’d clean forgot, ” he said. “I thought it was my radio.”

“Go on, mister, ” Riley prodded him.

“I was upstairs yesterday morning, taking my pills. And I heard somebody calling, ‘Help, help! ’ Feeble and far away, you know. I thought, ‘I’ve got interference. One of those stations cutting in and spoiling my music.’ That’s what I thought.”

“Didn’t you investigate? ” Nancy asked.

“No, young lady. I just went downstairs and fiddled with my radio a bit and I didn’t hear anythingelse.”

“Oh, it was Terry! I know it was, ” cried Nancy. “Officer, we must go in the house.”

The policeman still seemed doubtful. He was about to ask a question, when George gasped, “Look! ” and pointed upward.

From the attic window the white handkerchief was once more flying its signal of distress. Riley, as well as the old man, stared wide-eyed.

Was the fluttering handkerchief a signal of distress?

“We won’t wait any longer, ” Riley stated.

The stout woman who had yelled from the upstairs window now appeared on the scene. She was carrying an ax. Riley grasped the heavy tool and nodded his thanks.

He strode toward sloping double doors which led to the outside cellar steps. Testing the doors, he found they had been firmly barred on the underside.

“Stand away, everybody! ” he ordered.

Riley took a mighty swing with the ax, and the heavy door shivered and splintered. Something on the other side fell away with a clatter. Riley pried one side of the door open and swung it wide.

“Stay outside, girls. There may be trouble, ” he commanded.

The officer descended the stone steps. Nancy and George could see the beam of his flashlight as he played it into the dark corners of the cellar. A moment later they heard the warning siren of an approaching police car.

Nancy turned to her friend. “George, I’m going inside with the officers.”

“I’m with you, ” George declared.

They ran to the front of the house in time to see the police car stop at the curb. Four officers climbed out hastily. Two of them dashed to the rear of the house.

The girls met the other two at the front porch. One of these was Sergeant Malloy, who grinned at Nancy. “You still on the job? ”

Officer Riley appeared at the front door and let them in, then left to go back to his post. Nancy hurried up the stairway, with George and two of the police following.

“Terry! Terry, are you all right? ” Nancy called.

She expected an answer, but it did not come. The second floor was in semidarkness. Nancy felt along the wall for a light switch. At last her fingers touched a button. She pressed it, and light flooded a narrow hall.

“Terry! ” she called again in alarm.

This time she heard something; not a voice, but a muffled tapping sound. It was an answering signal and it came from above.

Nancy, George, and the policemen climbed to the third floor and began opening doors, but each one led to a closet or bedroom. Presently Nancy tried one which she found locked.

“This must be the attic door, ” she called excitedly. “And Terry Scott’s up there. I know he is. Oh, hurry and open the door, officers. Please! ”

Sergeant Malloy and Officer Trent braced their shoulders against it.

Several swift crashes of their bodies against the door broke the lock. With a splintering sound the door gave way.