Free The Bungalow Mystery by Carolyn Keene

apparently a kitchen, was bare of furniture and covered with dust and cobwebs.
    “I wish I could get inside,” Nancy thought.
    She was about to climb down from the box when a strange feeling came over her. Though she had heard no sound, Nancy sensed that unfriendly eyes were watching her every move.
    Before she could turn around and look over her shoulder, a coarse, angry voice barked into her ear:
    “What are you doing here, young lady?”
    Nancy wheeled and faced Jacob Aborn!
    With as much dignity as she could muster, the girl detective stepped to the ground and regarded the man with composure. His eyes burned with rage.
    “I was merely curious,” Nancy replied. “And may I ask why you are here?”
    “Yes, I’ll tell you. I’m looking for my ward.”
    “You mean Laura Pendleton?”
    “Yes. Who else? I thought maybe she was hiding here. But nobody’s in the shack.”
    “Why in the world would Laura hide in this ramshackle place?” Nancy asked, trying to show as much surprise as possible.
    “Search me,” Mr. Aborn said, then added angrily, his eyes boring Nancy’s, “Laura has run away!”
    “Run away?” Nancy repeated.
    “Yes. Yesterday. I’ll tell you something about that ward of mine—” A crafty light came into Jacob Aborn’s eyes as he went on, “At times she acts unbalanced—thinks folks don’t treat her right.”
    “Indeed?” said Nancy, pretending to be shocked.
    By now Laura’s guardian had calmed down. When he spoke again he was once more the pleasant man Nancy had met at the Montewago HoteL
    “It’s for Laura’s own good that she ought to return home,” he said. “Mrs. Aborn is dreadfully upset. She loves Laura just like a mother. Miss Drew, have you heard from Laura by any chance?”
    Nancy was on her guard. “Why should I hear from her?” she countered. “We never met until that accident on the lake and she came to rescue my friend Helen and me.”
    Mr. Aborn did not pursue the subject. Instead, he said, “Laura’s a nervous, high-strung girl. Why, do you know she locked herself in her room the entire time she was with us—wouldn’t eat, or even let us try to help her?”
    “Terrible!” Nancy said, pretending to be shocked. “Laura does need help.”
    Secretly Nancy felt that Jacob Aborn was telling this version of the locked-door story to cover his own actions, in case they came to light.
    “Have you notified the police, Mr. Aborn?” she asked, probing for further information.
    “We have a private detective working on the matter,” the man stated. “We don’t want any bad publicity because of dear Marie Pendleton’s memory. She entrusted Laura to my care because she knew how much my wife and I would love the girl.”
    Nancy suddenly was finding it hard to concentrate on what Mr. Aborn was saying. Was she wrong or had she heard a sound inside the shack?
    “This is very strange,” she told herself. “But I don’t dare pursue the subject or Mr. Aborn will really become suspicious.” Aloud she said, “I certainly hope Laura is all right. Well, I must go now. I have some friends here at Melrose Lake I plan to call on.” She paused, then added lightly, “In fact, I believe you know them, Mr. Aborn—the Donnell family.”
    The man looked startled, then recovered himself. “Oh, yes. Fine family. Say hello to them for me, please.”
    Nancy promised that she would. Since Mr. Aborn made no move to accompany her, she said good-by and walked rapidly back to the spot where her convertible was parked.
    As Nancy climbed into it, she cast a glance over her shoulder. There was no sign of Mr. Aborn. Had he gone into the shack? Was someone there? Had he been delivering packages to the person?
    Nancy started the car’s motor and backed out to the main road. As she drove along, her thoughts were entirely on Mr. Aborn. She had no doubt but that the man had been lying about Laura’s behavior.
    “I must find out more about that man,” Nancy decided.
    Reaching the highway,