Free The Sign of the Twisted Candles by Carolyn Keene Page B

me.”
    “No, no!” Carol objected, clinging to Nancy.
    The Jemitts went off. Hannah Gruen appeared and urged Carol and Nancy to have some tea and toast in the kitchen.
    “All right,” Carol agreed. “And I’ll tell you about the will, Mrs. Gruen. Oh, I suppose I’ll be rich but it scares me.”
    Nancy said good-by to her father and Mr. Hill, then joined Carol and Hannah. After the men had driven off, she began to wonder where the Jemitts were.
    “I think I’ll prowl around a bit,” she told the others.
    Nancy went quietly to the second floor. Seeing no one, she continued to the tower room. Frank Jemitt was crouched at the door, studying the official padlock placed there by the sheriff. The flashlight in his hand cast flickering shadows on the white walls.
    “Oh, there you are, Mr. Jemitt,” Nancy said pleasantly.
    The startled man wheeled on his heels. “I—I was just making sure none of the relatives had sneaked up here to burglarize the place,” he stammered.
    “And did you find everything secure?”
    “Oh yes,” he growled, and rushed down the stairs past the girl.
    Nancy followed Jemitt to the second floor and saw him enter his bedroom. She went into her own room but left the door ajar. A few minutes later he came out with Mrs. Jemitt. The couple hurried to the first floor and out the front door.
    Nancy returned to Carol and Hannah, and suggested that the two girls stroll around the grounds. The back lawn was weedy and littered, and the ramshackle old barn gave the garden a shabby appearance.
    A flicker of light inside the barn aroused Nancy’s suspicions. Taking Carol by the hand, she led her into the nearby woods.
    “Let’s watch the barn from here,” she said, “where we won’t be noticed. I want to see if Jemitt brings anything outside.”
    At that instant Jemitt stepped from the building and surveyed the house and yard. Then he ducked back inside. Presently he emerged with two long boxes which he carried with difficulty.
    “He’s going away from the road,” Nancy muttered. “What’s at the rear of the property, Carol?”
    “Just pastures and meadows and the old tenant farmer’s house,” Carol whispered.
    “We’ll follow Jemitt,” Nancy decided. “Can we get to that house without leaving the woods?”
    “There’s a roundabout way,” Carol said. “I’ll show you.”
    Stepping carefully so as not to cause any sound, the two girls made their way among the trees. Soon Jemitt was out of sight, but still Nancy urged Carol on, convinced that the deserted tenant house was the man’s goal. After ten minutes of difficult going, Carol stopped and pointed.
    “There’s the old tenant house,” she said. “And, Nancy, you uncanny mind reader, my foster father’s just leaving it!”
    “And without the boxes!” Nancy added. “We’ll wait until he’s gone and then search the place.”
    The building smelled musty and dirty. Inside, the light from the setting sun shone dimly through cobwebby, dusty windows. The floor was thick with debris and fallen plaster.
    “See these footprints. They go directly upstairs,” Nancy remarked.
    The two girls crept up the creaking, wobbly old steps, their hearts thumping with excitement. The second floor was merely an unplastered attic. A rusted iron bed stood under the eaves, and an antique wardrobe, its doors awry and its once fine mahogany surface green with mildew, leaned against the chimney.
    Nancy looked into the huge piece of furniture. “All the shelves have been taken away!” she observed. “The wardrobe’s empty.”
    Nancy turned to examine the floor. She became interested in part of a plank that had less litter on it than the others.
    “It’s getting late,” Carol murmured nervously.
    “We’ll go in a minute,” Nancy said.
    She knelt and with her slim fingertips drew the loose nails from the wide floorboard and pulled it up.
    Carol gasped! Four boxes were revealed, two of them obviously the ones Jemitt had just brought. Nancy