Free Mystery of the Moss-Covered Mansion by Carolyn Keene Page B
Authors: Carolyn Keene
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Juvenile Fiction, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery Fiction, Women Detectives, Girls & Women, Adventure and Adventurers, Adventure stories, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Mystery and detective stories, Drew; Nancy (Fictitious Character), sabotage, Malicious Accusation
police right now and ask if they can tell us anything about who lives there.”
She phoned at once but was told she would have to wait until morning when the office with the local records was open.
The next day Nancy lost no time in getting the information. The old house had been purchased by a man named Fortin. He had been a trainer of wild animals for a circus. Fortin had received a permit to have the beasts there as long as they were properly caged. Nancy thanked the clerk and hung up.
“I wonder if Fortin was that tall heavy-set man with the whip,” she said to Bess and George.
Nancy was more convinced than ever that Fortin was in back of the move to keep the Drews from buying the Webster house. He might have found out she was an amateur detective and did not want her so close. She might report that he allowed the dangerous animals out of their cages.
“I wish I could get inside that mansion,” Nancy said. “I have a strong hunch there’s something going on between Scarlett and Fortin which has a direct bearing on the Webster property.”
Bess spoke up. “You’d better forget it, Nancy. We came down here to solve the mystery of the explosive oranges. Why don’t we forget that place with the wild animals and go hunting for Hamlin orange groves as George suggested?”
“I’m ready to start,” Nancy said.
The girls set off in the Billingtons’ car. Nancy drove up one road and down another. Many people had small groves, others large ones, but none had Hamlin oranges. Most were apparently Valencias.
At last the girls spotted a big grove of smooth-skinned Hamlins. Nancy turned into the long driveway and went to the packing house. She introduced herself and her friends to the foreman, saying they were from the North and were interested in solving the case of the explosive oranges.
“My father is the attorney for Mr. Billington,” she said. “I’m eager to find out which grove those particular oranges came from. Can you help me?”
The foreman, who told them his name was Tom Seever, smiled. He looked up at the darkening sky and said, “We’d better run into the packing house. I’ll tell you what I know. Looks like a heavy shower coming any second.”
The girls hurried after him and went into the shelter. Pickers from the grove and a visitor who had just driven in began rushing inside too. By the time the rain came down hard, the place was so crowded that moving around was impossible.
Suddenly the lights went out. A few seconds later Nancy felt a rough hand against her arm. She realized that someone was trying to cut the strap of her handbag.
Quickly she clutched the bag in one hand and with the other grabbed the man’s wrist. Finding it, she pinched the flesh so hard that the purse snatcher cried out in pain. Instantly she could feel him moving away.
A few seconds later the lights went on. Nancy craned her neck to look at all the people who had taken shelter in the packing house. It was hopeless to try identifying the suspect, but she saw the visitor dash to a car and drive off. Was he guilty and had he followed her here?
The rain had stopped and the men had begun to file outside. Nancy and her friends were the last to leave the building. After talking to Mr. Seever for a few minutes about the mystery, she was convinced that there was nothing he could tell them which would cast any light on the case. All his oranges were sold to trustworthy buyers he knew well, and no fruit had been stolen.
The young sleuth asked if he would give them directions to another Hamlin grove.
He told her of one about a mile away and the three girls headed for Owen’s Grove.
It was a large grove and there were many pickers at work. Nancy was directed to the office of the owner, Mr. Owen. It was in a small building that stood a short distance from the packing house.
She went to the door and asked, “May I come in?”
The owner rose, smiling, and said, “Yes, indeed. Won’t you sit down?”
Bess and George had
She phoned at once but was told she would have to wait until morning when the office with the local records was open.
The next day Nancy lost no time in getting the information. The old house had been purchased by a man named Fortin. He had been a trainer of wild animals for a circus. Fortin had received a permit to have the beasts there as long as they were properly caged. Nancy thanked the clerk and hung up.
“I wonder if Fortin was that tall heavy-set man with the whip,” she said to Bess and George.
Nancy was more convinced than ever that Fortin was in back of the move to keep the Drews from buying the Webster house. He might have found out she was an amateur detective and did not want her so close. She might report that he allowed the dangerous animals out of their cages.
“I wish I could get inside that mansion,” Nancy said. “I have a strong hunch there’s something going on between Scarlett and Fortin which has a direct bearing on the Webster property.”
Bess spoke up. “You’d better forget it, Nancy. We came down here to solve the mystery of the explosive oranges. Why don’t we forget that place with the wild animals and go hunting for Hamlin orange groves as George suggested?”
“I’m ready to start,” Nancy said.
The girls set off in the Billingtons’ car. Nancy drove up one road and down another. Many people had small groves, others large ones, but none had Hamlin oranges. Most were apparently Valencias.
At last the girls spotted a big grove of smooth-skinned Hamlins. Nancy turned into the long driveway and went to the packing house. She introduced herself and her friends to the foreman, saying they were from the North and were interested in solving the case of the explosive oranges.
“My father is the attorney for Mr. Billington,” she said. “I’m eager to find out which grove those particular oranges came from. Can you help me?”
The foreman, who told them his name was Tom Seever, smiled. He looked up at the darkening sky and said, “We’d better run into the packing house. I’ll tell you what I know. Looks like a heavy shower coming any second.”
The girls hurried after him and went into the shelter. Pickers from the grove and a visitor who had just driven in began rushing inside too. By the time the rain came down hard, the place was so crowded that moving around was impossible.
Suddenly the lights went out. A few seconds later Nancy felt a rough hand against her arm. She realized that someone was trying to cut the strap of her handbag.
Quickly she clutched the bag in one hand and with the other grabbed the man’s wrist. Finding it, she pinched the flesh so hard that the purse snatcher cried out in pain. Instantly she could feel him moving away.
A few seconds later the lights went on. Nancy craned her neck to look at all the people who had taken shelter in the packing house. It was hopeless to try identifying the suspect, but she saw the visitor dash to a car and drive off. Was he guilty and had he followed her here?
The rain had stopped and the men had begun to file outside. Nancy and her friends were the last to leave the building. After talking to Mr. Seever for a few minutes about the mystery, she was convinced that there was nothing he could tell them which would cast any light on the case. All his oranges were sold to trustworthy buyers he knew well, and no fruit had been stolen.
The young sleuth asked if he would give them directions to another Hamlin grove.
He told her of one about a mile away and the three girls headed for Owen’s Grove.
It was a large grove and there were many pickers at work. Nancy was directed to the office of the owner, Mr. Owen. It was in a small building that stood a short distance from the packing house.
She went to the door and asked, “May I come in?”
The owner rose, smiling, and said, “Yes, indeed. Won’t you sit down?”
Bess and George had