never know until we figure out what this mysterious computer program does.”
“Which means we’d better get to work,” Ned said. “We have a long way to go.”
• • •
After a stop at the hospital to check on Line—there was no significant change in his condition—Cass left in Line’s car to interview someone for her independent study paper. Ned, armedwith directions to the nearest public library and a pocket full of quarters, took the printouts to make copies for Marty.
Nancy, her tote bag packed with a change of clothes for her afternoon as Cass’s stand-in, went in search of the alumni office. If Andrew Bladinsburg had deserved an asterisk from Doc on that awards program, it might pay to know more about him.
Nancy was hoping to get a look at Basson’s alumni directory. To her disappointment, the alumni office was closed for the holidays. A secretary passing by suggested she try the college library. She got directions and headed toward the library.
It looked as if it was one of the oldest buildings on campus. A parade of columns stood like sentries along a patio that wrapped around the building. Oddly enough, the front doors were locked.
“Hey, gorgeous!” A boy near the fountain waved to Nancy. “You have to use the side entrance,” he called.
She waved a thank-you and walked across the front patio. As she passed the column at the corner and rounded the end of the building, she was suddenly yanked backward. She struggled as a strong hand was clamped over her face.
The hand was not empty. Instantly the smell of chloroform invaded Nancy’s mouth and nose.She knew if she didn’t break her attacker’s grasp, she’d be unconscious in seconds!
She elbowed her attacker, but her head had already begun to spin. Slowly her surroundings faded as the chloroform took effect. Darkness descended. Nancy slumped, lifeless, in her captor’s grasp.
Chapter
Twelve
N ANCY GROANED , opened her eyes, and closed them again. She was sitting, her back against the column at the corner of the library. Her head spinning, she remained where she was, breathing deeply, trying to remember what had happened.
The last faint odor of the chloroform brought it all back. She’d been attacked—again. But why? The only things she’d been carrying were her tote bag containing Cass’s leotard, tights, and the program from the awards banquet in Philadelphia.
“Oh, no,” Nancy moaned and concentrated on shaking off the effects of the anesthesia. She wondered how long she’d been out. Groggily, shechecked her watch. The numbers swam in front of her eyes.
After several minutes she rose. Holding on to the column for support, she waited for her head to clear. When she finally felt better, she started for the side door, still a little unsteady on her feet.
Then she saw a patch of deep purple dangling from the spiky leaves of a bush at the far corner of the library. Cass’s leotard!
Moving carefully, she retrieved it and crammed it into her pocket. She glanced around to the patio on the back. There was the towel Cass had lent her. Of course! Her assailant had opened the tote, tossing its contents in a frantic search for the printouts he—or she—hoped were there. Nothing else would be worth such a stunt in broad daylight.
The thief had left a trail that led into the woods. A few feet farther on, she saw the tights. And down at the very end, tucked between the patio and the shrubbery, Nancy found the tote bag. Her makeup kit, comb, and brush were still in it.
So was the awards program. Nancy leaned against a column in relief. She had tucked the program into a Basson College catalog she had picked up in Cass’s room. Either the thief hadn’t seen it, or he hadn’t realized its significance. Stuffing everything back into the tote, she went to finish her mission for the morning.
The library was quiet as a tomb. Nancy went to the information desk. “Where are the alumni directories?” she asked the receptionist.
The