Free The Hidden Staircase by Carolyn Keene Page A

drawer,” she said.
    “And I’ll look over the food supplies,” Nancy suggested. “I have a pretty good idea what was in the refrigerator and on the pantry shelf.”
    It was not many minutes before each of the girls discovered articles missing. Helen said that nearly a dozen teaspoons were gone and Nancy figured that several cans of food, some eggs, and a quart of milk had been taken.
    “It just seems impossible to catch that thief,” Helen said with a sigh.
    On a sudden hunch Nancy took down from the wall a memo pad and pencil which hung there. Putting a finger to her lips to indicate that Helen was not to comment, Nancy wrote on the sheet:
    “I think the only way to catch the ghost is to trap him. I believe he has one or more microphones hidden some place and that he hears all our plans.”
    Nancy looked up at Helen, who nodded silently. Nancy continued to write, “I don’t want to worry Miss Flora or Aunt Rosemary, so let’s keep our plans a secret. I suggest that we go to bed tonight as usual and carry on a conversation about our plans for tomorrow. But actually we won’t take off our clothes. Then about midnight let’s tiptoe downstairs to watch. I’ll wait in the kitchen. Do you want to stay in the living room?”
    Again Helen nodded. Nancy, thinking that they had been quiet too long, and that if there was an eavesdropper nearby he might become suspicious, said aloud, “What would Miss Flora and Aunt Rosemary like for lunch, Helen?”
    “Why, uh—” Helen found it hard to transfer to the new subject. “They—uh—both love soup.”
    “Then I’ll make cream of chicken soup,” said Nancy. “Hand me a can of chicken and rice, will you? And I’ll get the milk.”
    As Helen was doing this, Nancy lighted a match, held her recently written note over the sink, and set fire to the paper.
    Helen smiled. “Nancy thinks of everything,” she said to herself.
    The girls chatted gaily as they prepared the food and finally carried four trays out to the garden. They did not mention their midnight plan. The day in the garden was proving to be most beneficial to Miss Flora, and the girls were sure she would sleep well that night.
    Nancy’s plan was followed to the letter. Just as the grandfather clock in the hall was striking midnight, Nancy arrived in the kitchen and sat down to await developments. Helen was posted in a living-room chair near the hall doorway. Moonlight streamed into both rooms but the girls had taken seats in the shadows.
    Helen was mentally rehearsing the further instructions which Nancy had written to her during the afternoon. The young sleuth had suggested that if Helen should see anyone, she was to run to the front door, open it, and yell “Police!” At the same time she was to try to watch where the intruder disappeared.
    The minutes ticked by. There was not a sound in the house. Then suddenly Nancy heard the front door open with a bang and Helen’s voice yell loudly and clearly:
    “Police! Help! Police!”

CHAPTER XI
    An Elusive Ghost
    BY THE time Nancy reached the front hall, Tom Patrick, the police guard, had rushed into the house. “Here I am!” he called. “What’s the matter?”
    Helen led the way into the living room, and switched on the chandelier light.
    “That sofa next to the fireplace!” she said in a trembling voice. “It moved! I saw it move!”
    “You mean somebody moved it?” the detective asked.
    “I—I don’t know,” Helen replied. “I couldn’t see anybody.”
    Nancy walked over to the old-fashioned sofa, set in the niche alongside the fireplace. Certainly the piece was in place now. If the ghost had moved it, he had returned the sofa to its original position.
    “Let’s pull it out and see what we can find,” Nancy suggested.
    She tugged at one end, while the guard pulled the other. It occurred to Nancy that a person who moved it alone would have to be very strong.
    “Do you think your ghost came up through a trap door or something?” the