With the passing days, nothing more was heard of Nathan Gombet, and Nancy Drew began to grow easier in her mind. After all, his threat had been nothing more than bluff, she assured herself. Probably she would never see him again.

But as she became less vigilant, she could not know that Nathan Gombet was plotting revenge. Happy in her false security, Nancy forgot about the man and turned her thoughts into more pleasant channels.

“I believe I’ll call on Abigail Rowen this afternoon,” she told her father one day at the luncheon table. “I haven’t seen her for months and I’m curious to know how she is getting along.”

“You’ll be back before dark?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll be gone only a few hours.”

As soon as luncheon was over, Nancy backed her blue roadster from the double garage and set off for Abigail Rowen’s cottage, which was several miles from River Heights.

Approaching the house, she was pleased to observe that there had been many changes in the last few months. The former description of the place, “the worst looking house on the road,” no longer applied.

The cottage had received a fresh coat of white paint and the shutters were a gay green. The old picket fence had been torn entirely away, as had the old plank walk which led to the house. In its place there was a new one of concrete. The yard was well kept, and at the rear of the cottage Nancy saw a man working in a vegetable garden.

“I hope I’ll find Abigail well,” she thought, as she parked her roadster and walked toward the house.

She rapped firmly upon the door. As she waited for someone to answer the knock she could not help but recall the first time she had called upon Abigail Rowen. The old woman had been confined to her bed with injuries received from a bad fall, and Nancy had found her in a deplorable condition. There was little food or money with which to buy it, and Abigail had firmly refused medical attention because she could not pay for it.

It was through Nancy’s instigation that she had received her inheritance from the Crowley estate and she had wisely devoted a portion of the money to medical service.

Nancy’s thoughts were cut short as the door was opened by an old woman in a black silk dress. It was Abigail Rowen, and she beamed when she saw her visitor.

“Well, I declare, if it isn’t Nancy Drew!” she exclaimed, with evident pleasure. “Do come in and sit a spell.”

“How is your hip now?” Nancy inquired solicitously, as she followed Miss Rowen.

“It ain’t hurt me for going on two months now. I still limp a bit, but the doctor says I’ll soon get over that.”

“You’re looking much better than when I saw you last.”

“And I’m feeling better too. Things looked mighty black for a while and I didn’t much care whether I lived or died. I owe everything to you.”

“Oh, not at all,” Nancy said quickly.

As she entered the living room she saw that Abigail had another visitor.

“Rosemary, we were just speaking about Nancy Drew,” Miss Rowen said by way of introduction. “Well, here she is. One of the finest girls you ever set eyes on.” The old woman turned to Nancy. “I want you to meet my friend, Rosemary Turnbull. She came over from Cliffwood to see me to-day.”

Graciously, Nancy acknowledged the introduction. Rosemary Turnbull was an elderly maiden lady, tall and a trifle too thin, but not at all severe-looking in spite of her clothing. She wore an old-fashioned dress, long and wide of skirt and high in the neck, but she had a kind face, and Nancy was instantly attracted to her.

“Nancy is just the girl to help you out of your difficulties, Rosemary,” Abigail said significantly. “She helped me get my inheritance and I know she’ll help you if you ask her.”

“Certainly, I’ll help anyone I can,” Nancy agreed pleasantly. “What is it?”

“Well, I hardly know how to tell you,” Rosemary Turnbull began. She laughed unsteadily. “It seems I’m living in a haunted house.”

“A haunted house?” Nancy cried.

“Well, of course it isn’t really haunted. I don’t believe in ghosts and things like that.” She lowered her voice. “But the strangest things have been happening lately.”

“What sort of things?” Nancy asked, with interest.

“Mostly little things. But after a while they get on your nerves. You see, I live in an old stone house in Cliffwood——”

“Alone?” Nancy interrupted.

“Oh, no. My twin sister Floretta lives with me. Our house, which is generally known as The Mansion, was built before civil war time, so you can imagine how old it is.” She laughed nervously. “A wonderful setting for a ghost story, isn’t it?”

“Go on,” Nancy begged.

“Floretta and I have lived there for thirty years and we’ve never been disturbed until recently. Just the last few weeks things have happened which we can’t explain. We hear strange noises at night.”

“In the attic?”

“Not exactly. We hear sounds in all parts of the house.”

“You’re sure it isn’t mice?”

“Oh, mercy, it couldn’t be mice or rats.” Rosemary was horrified at the thought. “Floretta and I are very particular about anything like that. There isn’t a mouse in our house.”

“Tell her about the flies,” Abigail prompted.

“Our house is just filled with them now,” Rosemary declared. “And until lately we never had them at all. I can’t understand it.”

“So far your trouble doesn’t sound very alarming,” and Nancy smiled. “Probably there is a screen off some place.”

Rosemary shook her head firmly.

“We thought the same, so we made a thorough inspection. And we’re very particular to keep the doors and windows closed.”

“Tell her about the shadows,” Abigail encouraged.

“We see strange shadows on the walls,” Rosemary went on. A note of fear had crept into her voice now.

“What sort of shadows?”

“Floretta thought she saw a human shadow one night. She’s beginning to think the place is haunted. I don’t put any stock in that theory, but I’ll admit things are beginning to get on my nerves.”

“That would be enough to get on anyone’s nerves.” Nancy was sympathetic.

“And music! One night only last week I distinctly heard someone playing on a stringed instrument. It was enough to set my teeth on edge. Floretta says she’ll be a nervous wreck if she stays in the house another week. She didn’t want me to leave her alone even for a few hours this afternoon. She wants me to consent to sell the house.”

“And you don’t wish to do that?”

“No. The Mansion has been in the Turnbull family for decades and you can’t blame me for not wanting to turn it over to a stranger. I don’t take much stock in ghosts and the like. I can’t believe the house is haunted.”

“Tell her about the spoon,” Abigail prompted.

“There isn’t anything particular to tell. One morning we found a silver spoon missing.”

“Are you sure it couldn’t have been misplaced?” Nancy inquired.

“Floretta and I searched everywhere. We didn’t think so much about it until we missed the pocketbook.”

“You lost a pocketbook, too?”

“Yes. Only yesterday morning we discovered a purse was missing.”

“This begins to look serious. Was there anything of value in it?”

“Nothing except a little money. Eight dollars and fourteen cents, as I remember.”

“You keep no servants?”

“Floretta and I have done our own work for years. We have a man to take care of the yard.”

“How long has he been in your employ?”

“Oh, for eight or ten years. He’s perfectly honest. We know he wouldn’t touch a thing.”

“Have you noticed any prowlers about the house?” Nancy questioned next.

“No, I’ve seen no one except an old organ grinder, and you couldn’t class him as a prowler.”

“Still, his monkey might have climbed in a window and taken the articles,” Nancy suggested.

“I only noticed the organ grinder around two days, and it wasn’t on those days that we missed things. Anyway, all of the windows are screened.”

“Then that theory won’t work,” Nancy said, with a troubled frown.

“And it doesn’t explain the strange shadows on the walls at night,” Rosemary added.

“No. I’m afraid we must look for another explanation.”

“I’m more troubled about the shadows than anything else. It’s getting to a point where I don’t feel safe to sleep in my own bed. I don’t know where it will all end. Floretta says she won’t stay in the house another week if things go on as they have been, and I can’t say that I blame her. If only something could be done before it’s too late!”

“Nancy will help you,” Abigail Rowen declared confidently.

“You will, won’t you?” Rosemary pleaded.

“I don’t know whether I can or not,” Nancy said doubtfully. “I’m tremendously interested in your story and I’d like to visit The Mansion some time.”

“Oh, when can you come?” Rosemary asked eagerly. “The sooner the better.”

Nancy Drew glanced thoughtfully at the watch on her wrist.

“I have my roadster outside. If you wish, I could drive you to your home now and stop there before returning to River Heights.”

“Oh, if you only will! Floretta will be so grateful! I don’t like to give up the house, but things are becoming unbearable. I am sure you can help us.”

“I’ll do my best to solve the mystery,” Nancy smiled as she arose from her chair. “But I’m not in the least confident. I have a suspicion that your ghost isn’t going to be very easy to capture.”

Nancy Drew said good-bye to Abigail Rowen and, after promising to call again soon, left the cottage with Rosemary Turnbull.

“It’s nice of you to offer to take me to The Mansion,” Rosemary remarked, as she stepped into the blue roadster. “I came by bus you know, and it’s a slow, tiresome ride that way. Floretta will be delighted to see me back home earlier than I had planned.”

“Is your sister inclined to be nervous?”

“Oh, yes. The slightest thing sets her off. She wouldn’t stay at The Mansion alone at night for anything in the world.”

“I don’t wonder she is nervous. So many strange things have happened there.”

“Floretta is certain The Mansion is haunted. I keep telling myself I don’t believe in ghosts, and I don’t—but those shadows!” Rosemary shuddered. “There’s something uncanny about it.”

From the general conversation Nancy Drew had gathered that Rosemary Turnbull was not the type of woman to be easily frightened. She was eager to visit the old stone house, for she felt that she had encountered a genuine mystery.

“Have you told anyone about the strange happenings?” she inquired presently.

Rosemary shook her head.

“Only the sheriff, and he just sniffed. Seemed to think someone was playing a joke on us. To-day I told Abigail Rowen, but otherwise I haven’t mentioned it to a soul. You see, I thought that if we should want to sell, the rumor that the house was haunted wouldn’t help the sale.”

“Hardly,” Nancy replied. “But you don’t wish to sell, do you?”

“Only as a last resort.”

Nancy drove rapidly, for the hour was late and she feared that unless she hurried she would not reach her home before dark. When at last she did reach Cliffwood it was nearly dusk.

Rosemary directed her to The Mansion, which was located in an isolated spot on the outskirts of Cliffwood. Through the tall oak and maple trees which partially hid the house from the road, Nancy Drew caught her first glimpse of the place. She was a little startled, for with its two large turrets at the front, the Turnbull residence was not unlike a ruined castle.

It was a large, massive structure, built of white stone which, with the passing of the decades, had blackened and crumbled. Undoubtedly, in years gone by it had deserved the title of “mansion,” but now it could boast little of its old glory. With the ebb of the Turnbull fortune, the house had fallen into decay.

As Nancy drove up the winding driveway she could not help but notice the ghostlike shadows which the trees, swaying in the breeze, cast on the stone walls. A feeling of uneasiness came over her, a sensation which she was at a loss to explain.

“There’s something creepy about the place,” she thought. “As Miss Rosemary said, it’s a perfect habitat for a ghost.”

Nancy was not superstitious and certainly she did not believe in ghosts, but it seemed to her that the very air about the old place was oppressive. Perhaps Rosemary Turnbull had experienced the same sensation, for she turned her eyes toward the second story.

“I don’t see a light in Floretta’s room,” she observed. “I do hope nothing has happened while I have been away.”

Nancy stopped the roadster in front of the house and Rosemary alighted.

“You’re coming in, aren’t you?” she inquired hopefully.

Nancy hesitated.

“I intended to, but it’s growing so late. I promised father I’d be home before dark.”

“It’s only a short way to River Heights from here. Floretta will be disappointed if you don’t come in for a few minutes at least. I want you to hear her version of the mystery.”

“I am eager to hear it, too,” Nancy declared, switching off the motor. “All right, I’ll come in even if it is late. Dad will forgive me this time.”

Rosemary fitted her latchkey into the lock and opened the heavy front door.

“We’ve thought it best to keep the house locked the last few weeks,” she explained.

As Nancy Drew stepped inside she noticed that the entire house had the appearance of having been built in more opulent times than the present. The rooms were spacious, especially the living room which was furnished with old-fashioned Colonial furniture. The walls were adorned with massive, gold-framed portraits, obviously of ancestors of the Turnbull line.

As Nancy gazed at the pictures she realized that once the Turnbulls had been the leading family in Cliffwood. They had been a proud family, but with Rosemary and Floretta the line would die out. Little remained of a fortune which had once been large. Rosemary and Floretta, while not poor, had an income only sufficient for their needs. Yet because they were the last of the Turnbulls, they were welcome in the best of society.

“My great great grandfather,” Rosemary commented, indicating one of the pictures which had attracted Nancy’s interest. “He fought in the Revolution. I am sure if he were living to-day no ghost would dare invade The Mansion,” and Rosemary smiled slightly.

Nancy did not reply, for at that moment an elderly lady came hurrying down the stairway to the living room. In appearance she closely resembled Rosemary, though she lacked her sister’s firm chin. Nancy knew at once that it was Floretta. She saw, too, that something had disturbed the woman, for she was so agitated that she failed to note the presence of a visitor.

“Oh, Rosemary,” she burst out, “why did you leave me here alone? I knew something terrible would happen!”

“Floretta, you—you haven’t seen anything?” Rosemary demanded shakily.

“It’s my diamond bar pin! It’s gone!”

“Oh, Floretta, are you sure? Perhaps you misplaced it.”

“No, it’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere. Oh, what shall I do? I can’t bear to lose it!” Floretta turned and saw Nancy for the first time. She made a valiant attempt to compose herself. “I beg your pardon,” she said somewhat stiffly.

Rosemary introduced Nancy Drew and explained that the young girl had offered to help solve the baffling mystery.

“You’ve come just in time,” Floretta declared. “Oh, if only you can tell me what became of my bar pin! It was an heirloom. We’ve had it in the family for years.”

“When did you have it last?” Nancy asked quietly.

“Only this afternoon. I was dressing in my room and was just completing my toilet when I heard the iceman at the back door. I dropped my bar pin on the dresser and hurried downstairs to let him into the kitchen.”

“Were you gone long?” Nancy interrupted.

“Only a few minutes. Not more than ten at the most. When I came back my pin was gone!”

“Are you certain it didn’t drop to the floor, or perhaps fall behind the dresser?”

“Oh, I’ve looked everywhere!” Floretta sank into a chair and buried her head in her hands. “I’m just sick about it. I wouldn’t have lost it for anything in the world.”

Rosemary went to her sister and tried to comfort her.

“We’ll find the pin, Floretta. I’m sure it will turn up somewhere.”

She spoke with confidence but nevertheless turned uneasy eyes upon Nancy.

“Perhaps a bird flew in at an open window and took the pin,” Nancy suggested.

“Oh, I’m sure that couldn’t have happened,” Floretta insisted. “But if you’d like to see the room I’ll be glad to show it to you.”

She led the way up the narrow circular stairs and Nancy and Rosemary followed. Floretta’s room was in the east wing.

“Is this the top floor?” Nancy questioned.

“The attic is above,” Rosemary responded. She attempted to smile. “There’s no ghost up there, though. I know, because I looked myself.”

Floretta’s room was small. Nancy noticed that it had only one door which opened into the hall. There were two windows, both screened.

“I left the pin right here,” Floretta said, indicating the dressing table. “A bird couldn’t have taken it.”

“I see now,” Nancy said quietly.

She crossed the room and examined the screens carefully. Apparently they had not been touched, for an accumulation of dust was undisturbed.

“I know someone entered my room while I was talking with the iceman,” Floretta declared firmly. “Oh, I don’t want to stay in this horrible house another night!”

“It’s apparent no one entered by means of the windows,” Nancy said quietly. “Tell me, from where you stood in the kitchen could you see the stairway?”

“Why, I could have if I had looked, I suppose. The kitchen door was open.”

“You saw no one go up the stairs?”

“Not a soul. But someone might have entered the house when I had my back turned.”

“Weren’t the doors locked?”

“Yes, I had forgotten that.”

“And if anyone had gone up those stairs wouldn’t you have heard them?”

“I think I would have,” Floretta admitted. “The stairs are old and they creak.”

“Then how did the thief get in?” Rosemary cried. “Floretta’s bar pin couldn’t have walked off by itself!”

“I wish I could tell you what became of the pin, but I can’t,” Nancy said regretfully. “I’m as puzzled as you are.”

As she spoke she turned and for the first time noticed a closet door. Was it possible that the thief had entered the house early in the day and had hidden in the closet, biding an opportune time to snatch the pin?

Floretta divined Nancy’s thought and a look of horror came over her face.

“Oh, you don’t suppose someone has been spying upon us?” she demanded fearfully. “I never once thought of that closet! What if there’s someone in there now?”

Rosemary laughed nervously.

“Don’t be silly, Floretta.”

However, she eyed the closet door with misgiving and made no effort to investigate.

“Just to make sure there’s no one inside I’ll have a look,” Nancy remarked.

She crossed the room and paused before the closet door. Hesitating only an instant, she jerked it open.

“Empty!” Nancy Drew announced, as she flung open the closet door and looked carefully inside. “There’s no one here now, at least!”

Floretta, who had been clinging to her sister, relaxed her hold, but continued to gaze uneasily about the bedroom as though expecting to find the thief in plain sight.

“I’m afraid it’s a case for the police,” Nancy said thoughtfully.

“Oh, we don’t want to call them,” Rosemary protested quickly. “They will only laugh.”

“We talked to them once about strange things that have been going on here, and they weren’t interested. They seemed to think someone was trying to play a joke on us, and they didn’t even send a man to investigate,” Floretta added.

“If only you will take the case, Miss Drew,” Rosemary begged, “we’ll be glad to pay you well for your work.”

“But I’m not a detective,” Nancy protested

“We heard about the clever way you helped the Horner girls and Abigail Rowen. Surely, you can help us. We need help so desperately.”

“I’ll be glad to do anything I can,” Nancy promised willingly. “But of course I’ll not take money.”

“But it wouldn’t be fair of us to ask you——”

“I am really tremendously interested in the mystery. I’ll have a lot of fun trying to solve it. Whether I can do it or not is another matter. There really are no clues with which to start. If I could spend a night or so here——”

“You’re more than welcome to come and visit us if you will,” Rosemary told her.

“But you come at your own risk,” Floretta added.

“I’ll talk with father this evening and ask him if I may come,” Nancy promised.

“How will you notify us?” Floretta asked. “We have no telephone.”

“Oh, I’ll send a note. I think it wise not to advertise the real purpose of my visit.”

“A good idea,” Rosemary agreed. “Floretta and I will take care not to mention it to anyone.”

Nancy glanced at her watch.

“I must dash for home now, or father will be worried to death.”

Hastily saying good-bye, she left the house and sprang into her roadster. In a few minutes she had reached the main road and was driving swiftly toward River Heights.

“I’ve certainly struck a real mystery,” she mused thoughtfully, as she drove along the smooth road. “The Mansion is haunted all right, but it’s haunted by a flesh and blood ghost unless I miss my guess!”

Nancy Drew had no theory which would explain the strange happenings at The Mansion, but, if her father granted permission, she planned to stay several days at the house and investigate everything thoroughly. What the search would reveal she had no idea, but she felt certain she would unearth valuable clues.

“I’ll go home and try to piece things together,” she told herself. “That’s what a regular detective would do!”

It was after dark when Nancy finally reached home. She flashed into the garage with a skill born of long practice, and hurried guiltily toward the house. As she had expected, her father had reached home ahead of her.

“Nancy, I’ve been worried about you,” he began.

“Don’t scold,” Nancy begged. “I tried not to break my promise, but I couldn’t help it this time. Oh, I had the most exciting afternoon!”

“But exciting adventures are hard on poor old Dad,” Mr. Drew chided. “When you didn’t get back I thought perhaps you had had car trouble on the road. I was about ready to start after you.”

“I’m terribly sorry. Honestly, I am.”

Nancy looked so genuinely sorry that Carson Drew promptly forgave her.

“Tell me about your adventure,” he suggested.

“Oh, I met two of the dearest ladies. They’re rather eccentric but, oh, so charming and nice.”

“And you call that an adventure!” and Mr. Drew smiled.

“Of course not. I haven’t reached the adventure part of it yet. These ladies live in a haunted house. Of course it isn’t really haunted, but strange things are going on there, and they want me to find out what’s what.” Breathlessly, Nancy poured out her words.

“Not so fast,” Carson Drew stopped her. “I can’t make head or tail of what you are saying. You met two ladies who live in a haunted house which really isn’t haunted. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh, you lawyers are so particular about facts,” Nancy sighed.

Beginning at the first of the story, she related everything which had happened at the Turnbull mansion. Her father listened quietly until she had finished.

“I’ve heard a great deal about the Turnbull sisters,” he remarked. “They come from an excellent family. I believe The Mansion has belonged to the Turnbulls ever since it was built.”

“It would be a tragedy to Miss Rosemary and Miss Floretta if they had to sell the place now, Dad. I want so badly to help them. They have invited me to visit them, and I’d like to do it. May I?”

“I don’t know what to say, Nancy. From what you’ve told me I am inclined to believe there may be danger in visiting that house.”

“I’ll be careful, Dad. It won’t be any worse for me to sleep in that house than it is for Rosemary and Floretta Turnbull.”

“But you’re my daughter.”

“If you had been assigned to the case you wouldn’t hesitate to stay there at night, would you?”

“No,” Carson Drew admitted reluctantly, for he saw that Nancy was neatly cornering him.

“And you’ve often said you wanted me to grow up self-reliant and brave.”

Carson Drew threw up his hands in resignation.

“You win, Nancy. Your eloquence would convince a jury.”

“When may I go?”

“Well, let me see. This is Monday.” Mr. Drew considered the desk calendar. “I’ll be leaving for Chicago myself Thursday——”

“You’re going to Chicago? I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, on a business trip. The matter just came up this afternoon. I’ll be gone about a week.” He looked speculatively at Nancy. “Wouldn’t you like to go along?”

“Oh, of course, but if I do I wouldn’t get to visit the Turnbull sisters.”

“Are you willing to give up the trip for the chance to ferret out this mystery?”

“Oh, yes.”

Carson Drew sighed.

“I guess you’re a born detective, Nancy. Well, since your heart is set on it I’ll give my consent. You may visit the Turnbulls while I am gone.”

“A whole week?”

“Yes, if you like.”

“Goody! Goody!” Nancy pranced wildly about the room.

Carson Drew laughed.

“I hope you catch the ghost if it will make you happy.” Then the smile faded from his lips. “You’ll not run into danger?”

“Not if I see it first.”

“Seriously, Nancy, you’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

Carson Drew crossed the room and paused in front of his desk. Unlocking a drawer he took out a shiny object and handed it to his daughter.

“Your revolver, Dad!”

“Yes, I want you to take it with you.”

“But I sha’n’t need it.”

“I hope not. But it pays to be prepared. I’ll feel better if I know you have it. The Mansion ghost may turn out to be a livelier one than we expect.”

Carson Drew spoke half-jestingly, little suspecting that his observation was a true prophecy.

The next two days following her visit to Cliffwood, Nancy Drew went about the house in a preoccupied state. Alternately quiet and talkative, she was never without an air of suppressed excitement.

In an attempt to strike a plausible explanation for the strange happenings at The Mansion, she reviewed every detail of the story related by the Turnbull sisters.

“It’s possible the shadows on the wall at night could have been caused by the wind blowing the trees,” she told herself. “Still, Rosemary is a practical woman and I’m sure she wouldn’t be frightened by a thing like that.”

Before she had visited The Mansion with Rosemary, Nancy had been inclined to suspect that someone was playing a practical joke on the Turnbull sisters, but the loss of the diamond bar pin made such a theory seem unlikely. Without doubt, someone had stolen the pin, but in what manner, she was unable to guess. Apparently, it had vanished into thin air.

The longer Nancy reflected on the mystery the more certain she was that a sinister hand was behind everything. However, she refrained from disclosing this thought to her father lest he reconsider his promise and refuse her permission to visit the old house during the week he was to spend in Chicago.

Carson Drew planned to leave on Thursday. Nancy had written a note to the Turnbull sisters telling them to expect her on Saturday morning. She had taken care not to mention the approaching visit to anyone save her father, and even Hannah Gruen was in ignorance concerning her plans.

On the day set for Mr. Drew’s departure, Nancy helped him pack his bag, and then shortly before train time took him to the railroad station in her roadster.

“When shall I expect you home?” Nancy inquired, as they stood on the platform waiting for the train.

“A week from to-day. If you would like me to, I’ll stop at Cliffwood on my return trip. Your story has aroused my interest, Nancy. I’m curious to have a look at that old stone mansion.”

“Oh, I wish you would stop for me,” Nancy declared enthusiastically. She glanced carefully about to see that no one was within hearing distance. “If I haven’t solved the mystery by that time you’ll help me, won’t you?”

“Of course I’ll do anything I can, but from what you’ve told me it sounds like a tough case. I’m not sure that I’ll be able to solve it myself. However, if you fail, I’ll try it.”

The conversation was cut short as a shrill whistle announced the approach of the train.

“I’ll telegraph you the exact hour of my arrival in Cliffwood,” he said hastily.

“The Turnbulls live some distance from the railroad station, so I’ll meet you in the car,” Nancy promised.

“And remember—don’t run into danger.”

The heavy passenger train came pounding and clanging into the station, and Mr. Drew picked up his bag. Kissing Nancy good-bye, he made a dash for the Pullman cars, which were at the rear of the train, far down the track.

Nancy waited until the train pulled out and then slowly made her way back to the automobile. Now that her father had actually departed, she felt lonesome.

“I may as well stop at Helen Corning’s before I go home,” she decided as she stepped into the roadster. Helen Corning had been her chum for years.

Accordingly, she called at the home of her chum and was pleased to find her there. Helen promptly tempted her into a lively game of tennis, and before Nancy realized it, the afternoon was nearly gone.

“You must stay for dinner,” Helen urged. “It won’t be any fun eating at home all alone.”

“But Hannah is expecting me.”

“We can telephone her.”

“Oh, all right,” Nancy gave in.

Not only did she stay for dinner, but she remained during the evening, for Helen would not permit her to go.

“Remember the fun we had at Moon Lake last summer?” Helen asked her. “You know, I never did entirely forgive you for cheating me out of a share in your adventure. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to chase robbers that day when you left camp?”

“I didn’t know it myself then.”

“Well, if you ever stumble upon another mystery, I want you to take me in on it!”

Nancy was on the verge of telling Helen about her proposed trip to The Mansion, but she could not bring herself to the point of revealing the secret. Helen’s intentions were of the best, but she was a natural born gossip and Nancy doubted that it would be possible for her to keep the matter to herself.

“It might do a great deal of harm if it were rumored why I am leaving town,” she thought. “No, I’ll tell Helen after I return.”

It was late when Nancy reached home and the housekeeper had retired.

“I’m too sleepy to pack my bag to-night,” she decided as she locked the doors and windows. “I’ll do it the first thing in the morning.”

But in the morning there were other matters which claimed Nancy’s attention. She had promised the housekeeper a week’s vacation during her visit in Cliffwood, and before the house could be closed there were many things to be done. The entire day had slipped away almost before she realized it.

“Miss Nancy, if you don’t mind, I’ll go to a moving picture show with my sister,” the housekeeper said to her after the dinner dishes had been cleared away.

“Why, of course, Hannah,” she agreed generously. “I don’t mind in the least. I’ll be busy with my packing.”

As soon as Hannah had left the house, Nancy went directly to her room and began sorting out the dresses that she planned to take with her to The Mansion. It was ten minutes after eleven when she finished.

“There, I guess that’s all,” she decided. “Oh, no, I’ve forgotten the revolver Dad gave me. I must take that!”

She hurried downstairs and went directly to the desk where the revolver had been left. But with her hand on the drawer, Nancy hesitated.

Uneasily, she glanced about the room. For a reason she could not explain, she felt that someone was watching her.

“I guess my nerves are getting jumpy,” she thought. “I do wish Hannah would come home.”

Upon impulse, she moved toward the window. As she took a step forward, she thought she heard a step on the porch. Was it only imagination or was someone really prowling about the house?

Before she could make a move to investigate, the doorbell rang sharply.

Nancy started.

“It must be Hannah,” she assured herself. “Probably she forgot her key.”

But as she crossed the room she distinctly heard the steps creak under the weight of some person. Hesitating but an instant, she opened the door.

There was no one in sight. Wonderingly, Nancy stepped out upon the veranda and glanced up and down the street.

“That’s strange,” she murmured uncomfortably.

She went to the edge of the porch and peered in the direction of the hedge. Was it possible someone was hiding in the bushes? A careful survey disclosed no human form.

As she turned to go inside the house, her eyes fell upon a white envelope near the door. Curiously, Nancy picked it up and held it to the light.

“Why, it’s addressed to me!” she gasped in astonishment, as she made out the bold scrawl.

Hastily entering the house and closing the door behind her, Nancy Drew ripped open the envelope. As she scanned the note, the color faded from her face.

“An anonymous message!” she whispered. “Someone has sent me a threatening letter!”

Nancy Drew sank down upon the davenport and studied the note which had just been delivered at her door. The message was brief, but its words carried an import of veiled violence which mystified and frightened her. It read: