Free The Hidden Staircase by Carolyn Keene Page B

detective asked.
    Neither of the girls replied. They had previously searched the area, and even now as they looked over every inch of the floor and the three walls surrounding the high sides of the couch, they could detect nothing that looked like an opening.
    By this time Helen looked sheepish. “I—I guess I was wrong,” she said finally. Turning to the police guard, she said, “I’m sorry to have taken you away from your work.”
    “Don’t feel too badly about it. But I’d better get back to my guard duty,” the man said, and left the house.
    “Oh, Nancy!” Helen cried out. “I’m so sorry!”
    She was about to say more but Nancy put a finger to her lips. They could use the same strategy for trapping the thief at another time. In case the thief might be listening, Nancy did not want to give away their secret.
    Nancy felt that after all the uproar the ghost would not appear again that night. She motioned to Helen that they would go quietly upstairs and get some sleep. Hugging the walls of the stairway once more, they ascended noiselessly, tiptoed to their room, and got into bed.
    “I’m certainly glad I didn’t wake up Miss Flora and Aunt Rosemary,” said Helen sleepily as she whispered good night.
    Though Nancy had been sure the ghost would not enter the mansion again that night, she discovered in the morning that she had been mistaken. More food had been stolen sometime between midnight and eight o’clock when she and Helen started breakfast. Had the ghost taken it for personal use or only to worry the occupants of Twin Elms?
    “I missed my chance this time,” Nancy murmured to her friend. “After this, I’d better not trust what that ghost’s next move may be!”
    At nine o’clock Hannah Gruen telephoned the house. Nancy happened to answer the ring and after the usual greetings was amazed to hear Hannah say, “I’d like to speak to your father.”
    “Why, Dad isn’t here!” Nancy told her. “Don’t you remember—the telegram said he wasn’t coming?”
    “He’s not there!” Hannah exclaimed. “Oh, this is bad, Nancy—very bad.”
    “What do you mean, Hannah?” Nancy asked fearfully.
    The housekeeper explained that soon after receiving the telegram on Tuesday evening, Mr. Drew himself had phoned. “He wanted to know if you were still in Cliffwood, Nancy. When I told him yes, he said he would stop off there on his way home Wednesday.”
    Nancy was frightened, but she asked steadily, “Hannah, did you happen to mention the telegram to him?”
    “No, I didn’t,” the housekeeper replied. “I didn’t think it was necessary.”
    “Hannah darling,” said Nancy, almost on the verge of tears, “I’m afraid that telegram was a hoax!”
    “A hoax!” Mrs. Gruen cried out.
    “Yes. Dad’s enemies sent it to keep me from meeting him!”
    “Oh, Nancy,” Hannah wailed, “you don’t suppose those enemies that Mr. Gomber warned you about have waylaid your father and are keeping him prisoner?”
    “I’m afraid so,” said Nancy. Her knees began to quake and she sank into the chair alongside the telephone table.
    “What’ll we do?” Hannah asked. “Do you want me to notify the police?”
    “Not yet. Let me do a little checking first.”
    “All right, Nancy. But let me know what happens.”
    “I will.”
    Nancy put the phone down, then looked at the various telephone directories which lay on the table. Finding one which contained River Heights numbers, she looked for the number of the telegraph office and put in a call. She asked the clerk who answered to verify that there had been a telegram from Mr. Drew on Tuesday.
    After a few minutes wait, the reply came. “We have no record of such a telegram.”
    Nancy thanked the clerk and hung up. By this time her hands were shaking with fright. What had happened to her father?
    Getting control of herself, Nancy telephoned in turn to the airport, the railroad station, and the bus lines which served Cliffwood. She inquired about any