Free The Sign of the Twisted Candles by Carolyn Keene

more signs of a twisted candle, indicating hidden treasure. In her bedroom she made a discovery. Under the large rug a section of flooring was removable and Nancy pulled it up. To her disappointment, the space below was empty. Had the Jemitts removed something from the hiding place? she wondered.
    Several times that day and the next Nancy found Carol alone, weeping. “I feel so terrible,” she finally said. “My dear, true friend Mr. Sidney is gone. Now I’ll have to leave this place with the Jemitts. Nancy, I just dread it.”
    Nancy comforted the girl the best she could, but had to admit that the outlook was bleak.
    At last the funeral was over and the relatives gathered at The Sign of the Twisted Candles for the reading of the will. They assembled in the living room. George and Bess were there. The cousins nodded a solemn greeting to Nancy but stayed close to their parents.
    Mr. Drew directed the Jemitts, Carol, and Nancy to be present. Nancy stood behind Carol, who had taken a seat at the edge of the circle of whispering relatives, her eyes downcast in shyness.
    “We have met,” Mr. Drew began, “to read the last will and testament of Mr. Asa Sidney. The document was written only a few days ago, in his own hand and in duplicate. The original is already filed in the courthouse. I hold the copy here. The two have been carefully compared and found to be exact duplicates.
    “The will was witnessed by Mr. Raymond Hill, executive vice president of the Smith’s Ferry branch of the River Heights National Bank. I preface the reading of these papers with these remarks because some of its provisions may surprise you. I may add that—although I am named sole executor of the estate—I had never met Mr. Sidney until I was summoned by him to help draw up this document.”
    Mr. Drew opened a bulky envelope, and unfolded some crisp sheets of paper.
    “Mr. Hill, will you identify this testament?”
    The banker, who had been seated unnoticed in one corner, arose, examined the papers, and nodded.
    “That is my signature,” he said. “And those are my initials on each sheet. This is the document which Mr. Sidney prepared, and which I witnessed.” He sat down.
    “Hurry up with the reading and cut out the fancy business!” Jacob Sidney called out.
    Mr. Drew shot him a disapproving look. Then he began to read, while everyone except Carol leaned forward tensely.
    “ ‘I, Asa Sidney, being of sound mind, although in the hundred and first year of my life, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament, prepared by my own hand, legally witnessed, and replaces all previous wills made by me.
    “ ‘First, all my just debts are to be paid. Following that, all my property, real and personal, is to be disposed of after my death, as follows:
    “ ‘These relatives of myself and my wife, namely Jacob Sidney, Peter Boonton, Anna Boonton Marvin and her daughter Bess Marvin, Louise Boonton Fayne and her daughter George Fayne, as well as the young woman known as Carol Wipple, shall select by mutual consent and in the order named one article of furniture from my belongings as a permanent keepsake.’ ”
    “Oh, Nancy, he didn’t forget me!” Carol whispered.
    “ ‘Excepting,’ ” Mr. Drew continued with emphasis, “ ‘the portrait of my late, beloved wife, which will be disposed of hereinafter.
    “ ‘I then direct that all my other property be converted into cash by legal sale at the best current price as soon as possible after my death.’ ”
    There followed a list of items to be sold. The house, with four hundred acres of surrounding land, headed the list. Then came a piece of valuable real estate in the heart of the River Heights business district. Two bank accounts and a quantity of stocks and bonds were mentioned.
    Mr. Drew read on, “ ‘The bankbooks, deeds, receipts, and some of the securities are in a black wooden chest bound in brass on the lid of which is my name.”’
    Nancy glanced at her father. How glad