Free The Swami's Ring by Carolyn Keene Page A

forget your umbrella, dear,” Hannah advised Nancy as the group left, but Ned waved his, a large, black one that could amply cover two people.
    When they arrived at the theater, Nancy was struck by the small, scattered audience.
    “Where is everybody?” Burt asked.
    “Maybe they were afraid to come out in a storm,” George said.
    “But it isn’t even raining yet,” her cousin stated.
    Nancy, however, surmised that a number of ticket holders had received the cancellation notice and for whatever reasons had not yet called the theater for a refund. If they had, they would have been told the announcement was a hoax!
    She thought no more about it, though, as the orchestra filed into the pit. She looked for Angela, but someone else—another woman—was seated at the harp.
    “Where is she?” Ned whispered to Nancy.
    “I don’t know.”
    But as the overture swelled, the young detective temporarily pushed her concern to the back of her mind. The medley of tunes was a welcome respite from earlier events of the day, soaring to a climax and dissolving when the curtain opened.
    The stage, however, remained pitch-black for several minutes as the first actors entered. Then harsh red lights came on.
    “What’s going on?” Bess said.
    That was what everyone wanted to know. The actors moved mechanically through the scene, saying their lines and singing with as much ease as they could muster. But the red lights turned blue, then amber, and the din of the audience competed against the sound on stage, causing the lead singer to stop in the middle of his number.
    “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, as the overhead lights went out abruptly. “House lights, please,” he instructed someone offstage.
    Nancy slid out of her seat and hurried to the back of the theater, without waiting to hear the announcement.
    “I’m coming with you,” Ned whispered.
    “No, stay here,” Nancy said. “I’ll be back in a second.”
    She darted through the lobby doors, spying another one marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Did it lead to the sound booth where the technician controlled the sound and lighting systems?
    Nancy turned the knob, ready to climb the inside stairway, when a young man bolted out the door. He was no more than twenty and had shoulder-length brown hair that blew off his neck as he ran down the front steps.
    “Stop!” Nancy cried. She dashed after him, but her high dress heels slowed her down.
    The boy had jumped in a car and roared away in the darkness before she could catch him. Instantly, she hurried back into the theater, racing to the employees’ door and up the steps.
    “Oh!” she gasped upon seeing a man slumped forward over a board of dials.
    Next to him lay a wooden rod that had obviously been used to knock him out!
    “What’s going on here?” a voice barked behind her. It was the festival manager. Nancy turned sharply, giving him full view of the injured man. “Are you responsible for this, Miss Drew?”
    “Me?” Nancy said, aghast. She felt her former irritation, but kept her temper in check and quickly explained what had happened. “He needs a doctor. Excuse me while I find one.”
    The stream of people prevented Nancy from getting an usher’s attention, but as her friends appeared, she made her way toward them.
    “Someone attacked the man in the sound and lighting booth,” Nancy advised them. “We have to get a doctor for him.”
    “Is he bleeding?” George asked.
    “No, but he’s out cold.”
    Ned raced away from the group, negotiating through the slow-moving crowd to a man in a theater uniform at the far end of the lobby. Briefly, Ned reported the situation and the two of them hurried to a telephone in a rear office.
    By the time they emerged again, Nancy had gone back to the booth, leaving the others to wait for Ned and the emergency squad.
    The technician moaned quietly. His fingers curled over a switch, then spread out as he tried to lift his head.
    “He’ll be all right,” the festival manager said.