Free Mystery at the Ski Jump by Carolyn Keene Page B

her partner jumped and whirled in intricate patterns.
    Nancy had conceived the plan while Chuck was skating his first number. When he had returned to the dressing room, Nancy had asked him, “Do you think I danced that waltz well enpugh with you last night to try it on skates?”
    “Why, sure! You’re cool.” “I can’t tell you the whole story now,” Nancy had said, “but I’d like to take the place of that woman who called herself Nancy Drew.”
    The young sleuth thought, “Some of Mrs. Channing’s friends might be in the arena, unaware that the woman had left. When I come on instead, one of them may be so startled that he’ll reveal himself. I’ll ask the police here to hold anyone who tries to leave the building during or immediately after the number.”
    Turning to Chuck, she had said, “Will you skate with me if Mr. Dubois will let me and if I can borrow a costume and skates?”
    “You bet I will!”
    “I’m no expert,” Nancy warned. “So don’t try anything tricky. I’ll leave the fancy steps to you, and while you’re in the spotlight, I’ll have a chance to do some detective work.”
    “To do what? Well, all right!”
    Mr. Dubois had agreed to the plan and a girl Nancy’s size had offered to lend the young sleuth skates and a costume.
    Nancy’s heart had pounded with fright when the loudspeaker had announced their number. But with Chuck’s confident voice encouraging her, she soon lost her nervousness.
    At the end of the number, the young man grasped Nancy’s wrists, swept her from her feet and spun round and round with her until the music blared the last note. Nancy was dizzy as applause rang in her ears.
    As her vision cleared, she noticed that a tall, heavy-set man had risen from his seat and was moving quickly toward an exit. Was he R. I. Channing?
    Nancy turned to her partner. “Come on, Chuck,” she urged. “Let’s get off the ice quickly. I think the mystery is about to be solved!”

CHAPTER XI
    The Password
    “WELL, here he is, Miss Drew!”
    A big policeman thrust his prisoner through the open door of Nancy’s dressing room.
    “We’ve been watching for this fellow ever since you warned us that he might try to make a get-away,” the officer went on. “He denies everything.”
    “Of course I deny it,” the prisoner snarled, twisting away from his captor’s grasp and glaring at Nancy. “My name is Jacques Fremont. I’m a respectable citizen of Canada, and I never heard of R. I. Channing!”
    The man was bluffing, Nancy felt sure. The tall, muscular body, the touch of gray at his temples—both tallied with the description of Mitzi’s husband that Dr. Britt’s nurse had given.
    “I suppose you never heard of Mitzi Adele, either?” Nancy asked.
    For an instant the man looked startled. Then his eyes met Nancy’s in a glare of hate. “No, I never heard of her, either,” he sneered. “See here, Officer, this is outrageous. I have an identification. Here’s my driver’s license. It’ll show that I’m Jacques Fremont.”
    The policeman looked at the license in the man’s wallet, then nodded. “Everything seems to be in order,” he admitted. “I’m afraid that if you have no more proof than this, Miss Drew, we’ll have to let the man go.”
    Nancy was taken aback. She was sure of her accusation. But there was nothing she could do but thank the officer for his trouble and watch as the man who called himself Jacques Fremont slammed angrily out the door.
    “If only I weren’t in costume and could follow him!” Nancy sighed, then looked up in relief to see her father standing on the threshold.
    “Congratulations, daughter!” Mr. Drew called. “I was never so surprised as when—”
    Nancy did not let him finish. “Dad! Quick! That tall man you just passed—the one in the brown overcoat. Follow him!” she implored.
    “But, Nancy—”
    “I’m sure he’s R. I. Channing. I asked the police to stop him,” Nancy went on rapidly, “but Channing insisted