XVII
A Crisis
It was late in the afternoon when Nancy Drew reached River Heights after her unsuccessful trip to Winchester.
Finding her roadster where she had parked it in front of the grocery, she drove directly to her father’s office, for she was eager to tell him everything she had learned. As the door to the inner office was open, she walked in without being announced.
“Hello, Nancy,” Mr. Drew greeted her. “I’m mighty glad you dropped in. I’ve been trying to get you all afternoon. Mrs. Carter said she thought you had gone to Dockville.”
“I did intend to go there, but something else came up. Did you want to see me about anything special?”
“Yes. I’ve been called out of town unexpectedly. It’s about that Merrill case and I’m afraid I can’t put it off. I should get back tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
“When does your train leave?”
“Six forty-five.”
“That doesn’t give you much time.”
“No, but my bag is packed. I have it here and now that I’ve seen you I’ll leave directly from the office. I’m sorry to run off when you’re in such a mix-up about that Willoughby case.”
“Oh, I’ll get along all right,” Nancy replied. She decided not to bother her father with the story of her afternoon’s adventure.
“I’ll help you all I can when I get back,” Carson Drew promised, as he tossed a number of unread letters into a pigeonhole and locked the desk. “Things probably won’t come to a crisis for several days, anyway.”
Glancing at his watch, he arose from his desk and hastily gathered up hat and traveling bag.
“I’ll drive you to the station,” Nancy offered.
“Fine! I think we’d better leave at once because I want to get a Pullman ticket and I haven’t a reservation.”
Mr. Drew made a last survey of the room to make sure that he had forgotten nothing. As he turned toward the door, the telephone jangled.
“Hang it all!” he exclaimed impatiently. “It would have to ring when I’m in a hurry!” Dropping the bag, he snatched up the receiver. “Hello? Yes, this is Carson Drew. What’s that?”
Nancy recognized the tense quality to her father’s voice and glanced at him in startled surprise. She saw by the expression of his face that the telephone message was disturbing.
Carson Drew held the receiver to his ear for what seemed to Nancy at least five minutes. Then he said:
“Thanks, Williams, for tipping me off,” and hung up. When he turned to his daughter, his face was grave. “Well, this changes everything,” he said quietly.
“What does?”
“Jake Williams just called. He has a way of knowing what goes on at the police station, and when he thinks I’d be interested he passes the information along to me. He just gave me a tip on the Willoughby case. Things have come to a crisis sooner than I expected.”
“What do you mean?” Nancy inquired anxiously.
“The police intend to put Mrs. Willoughby under arrest tomorrow morning.”
“What evidence have they against her?”
“Purely circumstantial.”
“I don’t see how they can do it.”
“Well, they intend to. Jake tells me the police quizzed her for three hours straight this afternoon, and she admitted that on the day before the robbery she had visited the bank vault where the Crandall jewels were kept. Then on the following day she drove to the bank with Mrs. Potter and they took the jewels away with them. Naturally, the admission makes it look bad for Mrs. Willoughby.”
“The police think she went to the bank alone to substitute fake jewels for the real ones.”
“Undoubtedly.”
Nancy frowned.
“Even if she did take the jewels, which I hate to believe, that doesn’t explain what became of the handbag which disappeared at Lilac Inn.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Isn’t there something we can do to prevent them from arresting her?”
“I’m afraid not unless the mystery can be solved before tomorrow morning. And that’s impossible, of course. If I were going to be here tonight I’d see what I could do, but as it is, I’m afraid we’ll have to let matters take their course. Unless you want me to call in a detective.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” Nancy pleaded. “Give me one more day! I made another discovery today that I think may have a direct bearing on the case. I’m sure I can work this thing out alone.”
“All right,” Mr. Drew agreed. “Do what you can while I’m away and after that, if need be, we can turn the case over to a detective. I’ll have to hurry now or I’ll miss my train.”
Nancy drove her father to the station, on the way telling him all that she had learned in Winchester. Mr. Drew seemed impressed by the story.
“I think perhaps you’re on the right trail,” he told her approvingly.
After Mr. Drew’s train had pulled out of the station, Nancy walked slowly back to her roadster, more thoughtful than ever. It was nearly seven o’clock, but as the sun did not set until later, it was still light.
“I’ll drive over to Dockville right now,” she decided impetuously. “If I wait until tomorrow I may miss Mary entirely.”
Once her mind was made up, she did not lose a second. In her enthusiasm for the adventure before her, she had cast a casual glance at the sky and had failed to notice the angry black clouds directly overhead. As she drove along she did think that the air was unusually heavy and that it was rapidly growing darker, but she attributed it to the late hour.
Reaching Dockville, Nancy drove toward the house where she had last seen Mary Mason. Approaching the river, she was alarmed to run into a misty fog which made it difficult for her to see where she was going.
At last she made out the Mason house, but wisely stopped half a block down the street to park. Alighting from the car, she glanced up at the sky for the first time and noticed the gathering murkiness.
“I believe there’s going to be a storm,” she thought uncomfortably.
Glancing toward the west she saw that the sun was setting behind a bank of black clouds. In a very few minutes it would be dark.
Nancy glanced toward the old house and involuntarily shuddered. Though she was not afraid of Mary Mason, she preferred to meet her in broad daylight. The old house, which from the front appeared deserted, was not an inviting place to visit after dark.
Nancy walked swiftly up the street and paused to survey the dilapidated house. Had she not seen Mary enter the building, she would not have believed it possible that such a place was inhabited.
“It’s evident the girl doesn’t want anyone to know she lives here,” Nancy thought.
She was about to go up to the front door when a sudden thought came to her. Walking to the back of the house, she surveyed the yard curiously. It sloped down to the river and Nancy was quick to see a path leading from the house to the water front. Following it, she came to an improvised dock.
“I’m sure this path has been used recently,” she reasoned. “Otherwise it would be overgrown with weeds. I wonder who has been landing at this old dock?”
The faint chug-chug of a motorboat caused her to glance out toward the river. Some distance down the stream she saw a high-powered boat cutting through the water and apparently heading for the very spot where she was standing. Quickly, she stepped back into the tall bushes.
“That motorboat is coming toward this very dock!” she told herself excitedly.
Crouching low in the brush which afforded a perfect shield from the river, she waited expectantly. The noise of the motor became louder as the boat approached, and then suddenly the engine was throttled.
Overpowered by curiosity, Nancy cautiously peeped out from her hiding place. She saw that the boat was drifting slowly up toward the dock. There were three persons visible in the craft, two men and a woman. One of the men held the wheel while the other stood ready to leap out and fasten the boat when the dock was reached.
From where she crouched it was impossible for Nancy Drew to see the faces of the three persons. Darkness was fast enveloping the river, but there was still sufficient light for her to make out the figures distinctly. As her eye fell again upon the girl, she gave a little start. There was something familiar about her. If only she could see her face!
At the risk of being detected, Nancy continued to watch the oncoming motorboat. She heard a grating sound as the craft struck the dock. One of the men leaped out and made fast while the other helped the girl to alight. He said something to her in a low tone, but Nancy could not distinguish the words.
Leaving her two companions to attend to the motorboat, the girl started slowly up the path leading to the house. As she turned toward the tall brush, Nancy saw her face distinctly.
The girl was Mary Mason.
Having made the discovery, Nancy Drew ducked down again into the weeds, fearful lest she be discovered. To her discomfiture, Mary paused not six feet from where she was hiding and glanced back toward the dock.
“Bud, aren’t you coming?” she called in a harsh voice. “This is no time for stalling! We’ve got plenty to do tonight!”