A Grim Story

NANCY was the first one up the narrow stairway to the attic. At her heels was Sergeant Malloy, his flashlight beaming the way ahead. The attic seemed to consist of a single storage room, low-roofed and windowless.

But among the shadows Nancy noticed a small door, the key still in the lock. While the police searched behind trunks and dust-covered chests, Nancy went toward the door and unlocked it.

As she did, there came a tap from the inside. Quickly she pulled the door open. A figure, bent over, stumbled toward her.

Terry Scott!

“Terry! Are you hurt? ” Nancy gasped.

Though he shook his head, his face was deathly pale and his eyes looked dull and sunken. He tried to smile. One hand wandered feebly to his throat.

“You’re ill! ” Nancy cried.

The policemen carried him to a chair. Sergeant Malloy reached into a pocket and brought out a tiny glass vial. Nipping off the end with his thumbnail, he held the vial under Terry’s nostrils and ordered him to take a deep breath.

Soon the color flooded back into Terry’s face. His eyes brightened. He moved one hand to his throat.

“Lost my voice yelling, ” he whispered. “Thanks. You saved me from starving to death.”

“Let’s get him out of here, ” Sergeant Malloy ordered.

“I’ll take him to my house, ” Nancy offered quickly as they assisted Terry downstairs.

“All right. Then I’ll stick around here for a while, ” Malloy said. Turning to Terry, he added, “I’ll get your full story later. Anything special you can tell us now? ”

“Look for an old diary, ” the young scientist managed to say.

Nancy and George drove Terry to the Drew home. Hannah Gruen was concerned when she saw him. After learning that he had been without food for two days, she announced firmly:

“You leave him to me. I know what he needs.”

Hannah insisted that Terry lie down on the living-room sofa. She put some chicken broth on the stove and made toast.

“How can I ever repay you, Nancy? ” the young professor murmured over and over after George had gone home.

“By resting and getting your voice back, so you can tell me what happened.” Nancy smiled.

When Hannah returned with the food, Nancy announced that she had an errand downtown but would be back as soon as she could.

Nancy hurried out to her car and drove once more to the office of the Winfield Taxi Company. This time the blond girl at the desk was cooperative. She said to Nancy:

“Our driver Johnson just phoned in. He’s at a farmhouse a couple of miles this side of Kirkland.”

The driver had told her his two passengers from Fairview Avenue had forbidden him at gun-point to turn on the car radio. They had ordered him to drive to Kirkland.

When they reached a lonely stretch of wood-land, about three miles from Kirkland, Wangell had forced Johnson to stop, get out, and walk in the opposite direction.

“We’re going to use your cab for a while, buddy, ” Wangell had said. “If you want it back, you’ll find it parked in Kirkland.”

Nancy asked the girl if the driver had notified the police. She did not think so.

“Johnson just called the office a minute ago.”

Nancy leaned over the desk, picked up the telephone, and dialed the Wangells’ number. Sergeant Malloy answered. Nancy reported what she had just heard.

“I’ll relay that to the police in Kirkland, ” he said, “and tell them to scour the town for the taxi, and the Wangells, too.”

“Have you found out anything about them at the house? ” Nancy asked.

“Not a thing. No sign of that diary the professor mentioned, either. By the way, the Wangells don’t own this house. They only rent it furnished.”

Nancy was disappointed. “Well, I’ll appreciate your letting me know if anything turns up.”

She was glad to learn, when she returned home, that Mrs. Gruen’s care had worked wonders with Terry. He looked like himself again.

Nancy pulled up a hassock and sat down beside him. “Don’t strain your voice, ” she cautioned, “but please tell me in a few words what happened at the Wangells’.”

“They must have suspected what I was doing and planned to imprison me until they could get away, ” he replied.

“How did they manage to get you to the attic? ”

“As you know, there were several pages missing from the diary. Mrs. Wangell said that they might be in the attic with some other old papers. So I went with her to look.”

“And Mr. Wangell sneaked up after you and locked you in? ” Nancy asked.

Terry nodded grimly. “Yes, but before he locked the door we had a scuffle. Wangell gave me a knockout punch. I don’t know how long I was unconscious. When I started coming to, my brain seemed very foggy.”

“Drugged, ” Nancy guessed.

“I think so, ” Terry answered. “Wangell was standing over me, laughing. It was an awful feeling. He kept asking me questions about the cipher stone. I knew I mustn’t give him any information.”

Terry went on to say that he had found out a few things about the Wangells, however, before his capture.

“They hate each other, for one thing. I’m sure of that. Listening to them talk was like waiting for an explosion. There was constant tension between the two, even when they weren’t quarreling. Mrs. Wangell seemed to be afraid of her husband.”

“Why? ”

“I couldn’t figure out why, but every time she started to find fault with him, he would stop her with a stunt that would send her into a panic. I’ll show you.”

Terry walked over to the Drews’ piano. Clenching his right hand into a fist, he ran his knuckles along the black keys, hitting them in a loud, quick glissando.

“How strange! ” Nancy murmured.

“After Mr. Wangell did that, he’d laugh uproariously, ” Terry explained. “It had the strangest effect on Mrs. Wangell. She’d clap her hands to her ears and scream ‘No, Earl, no! ’ as if she were in pain.”

“Go on, ” Nancy urged.

“Here’s something a bit more definite, ” Terry continued. “I think Mrs. Wangell and Mrs. Porterly are sisters.”

Nancy was amazed. She praised Terry’s detective work and asked, “How did you find out? ”

“I listened, the way you suggested. Mr. and Mrs. Wangell talked a lot about Miami and a couple down there named Will and Irene. I deduced that Will was short for Wilfred Porterly.”

“And his wife? ”

“That was easy. Once when the Wangells were arguing, I heard her say, ‘You should have listened to Irene and me. We Webster girls at least have common sense.’ ”

Terry said he had remembered Mrs. Prescott saying that Mrs. Wangell was Lillian Webster.

“Oh, Terry, this is wonderful! ” Nancy exclaimed.

“Glad you think so, ” he replied, grinning.

“I wonder if the Wangells are on their way now to join the Porterlys in Miami, ” Nancy mused.

She told Terry about the Wangells’ treatment of the taxi driver, and also that the police had searched the house but had failed to turn up the diary or any other clues.

Suddenly Terry remembered Nancy’s trip to Baltimore. He asked what she had learned there.

“That was just a trick to get us out of town, ” Nancy answered. “I came back a little too soon for the Wangells. Or did I? ” She smiled ruefully. “They got away.”

“But you saved me, ” Terry whispered. His voice was giving out again. “You saw my handker—” The rest was lost.

Nancy insisted he rest again, promising a big surprise at dinnertime that evening. Terry Scott slept for three hours, awakening just as Mr. Drew walked in. The lawyer was deeply concerned when he learned what had happened.

“I had no idea your enemies would go to such lengths, ” he said to Terry. “It’s amazing what evil men will resort to in trying to acquire a treasure.”

This reminded Nancy of her promise to Terry. She brought out the photographs of the diary pages and the tracings she had made from them. Terry was intrigued by the footprints leading to the traveler’s palm; the symbols of the frog, the prostrate man, and the sun; and the three black keys.

“Amazing! ” he murmured.

After studying the complete drawing which Nancy had made, Terry shook his head. “I’ve never seen a spot that looks like this one, ” he said. “Too bad it has no directions or points of the compass on it. If I could only locate the cipher stone—”

Nancy brought out her copy of the slip of paper she had found in the shrubbery with its mysterious notation “5 x 7 and one.” Terry could make no more out of it than he had the first time.

Mrs. Gruen announced dinner and they all went to the table. As soon as the meal was over, Mr. Drew drove Terry to his hotel. He promised to retire at once.

At eight o’clock the next morning Terry called Nancy on the telephone. For a moment she feared something had gone wrong, but he soon reassured her.

“I did a lot of thinking last night, ” he said. “I feel I should return to Mexico. The Mexican police haven’t sent me any report. Maybe they have given up the search for Dr. Pitt. I must find out.”

Terry said he had a nine-o’clock plane reservation, and was leaving for the airport at once.

“I hate to say good-by this way, ” he added. “You’ve been such a good sport, Nancy. But I hope next time I see you, I’ll have good news.”

Terry said that if she did not hear from him soon, she would know that he was deep in a Mexican jungle looking for his scientist friend.

“Don’t you want to take the half-key with you? ” Nancy asked.

“No. I might lose it. If I need the key, I’ll send for it. Anyway, I feel that I’m not going to solve this whole mystery in Mexico. There will be many things you’ll have to clear up if you will. I’m depending on you.”

“Terry, are you sure you’ll be safe? ”

“Now don’t worry, ” he said, laughing. “Well, I must say good-by now.”

After she had put down the telephone, Nancy sat lost in thought. No matter how she looked at it, she had a strong hunch Terry’s sudden decision to start for the jungle was unwise. What could he do alone against ruthless enemies?