The Moonstone Castle Mystery (6 page)

“Well, the bridge is still up, so we’re in for a swim,” George announced.

Nancy suggested that first they walk along the edge of the moat to see if they could find the source of the water supply. “It’s probably the river, since the far side of the castle faces it.”

The girls left their shirts and shorts in the car, then walked around the edge of the moat. They discovered a newly dug trench from Deep River.

“Now I’m sure someone intends to keep out all visitors,” Nancy remarked. She grinned. “But not two people named George Fayne and Nancy Drew!”

“Where shall we swim across?” George asked.

Nancy surveyed the area, and decided that a spot a short distance from the drawbridge might be the best place. They walked back.

The two girls put their loafers into the waterproof bags, slipped into the water, and quickly swam to the other side. They pulled themselves up from the moat onto a narrow roadway and ran to an opening in the stone-walled enclosure, where they thought they could avoid detection while drying off. The place had evidently once been a beautiful garden. There were still pretty flowers among the high weeds and grass.

Suddenly the still air was racked with the sepulchral tones of a man’s voice. Slowly but distinctly he warned, “Swim-m-m ba-a-a-ack! Death awaits you herel”

THE ominous warning was not repeated. Nancy and George had stopped dead in their tracks. They could see no one.

“Did that man’s voice come from inside or outside the castle?” George asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Nancy responded. “If we go carefully, do you mind investigating the inside?”

“I’m game,” said George. “But why didn’t we bring flashlights?”

The two girls entered an arched doorway which led to the cellar of the stone castle. Ahead of them was a long corridor with rooms opening off each side. Cobwebs festooned the place. Nancy suggested that George keep looking back and into the rooms on the left. She herself would gaze ahead and glance into the openings on the right.

“This is really spooky,” said George. “It looks like an old-time dungeon.”

The two sleuths walked as far as there was light to see, but the corridor grew increasingly dimmer as they penetrated into the interior. Most of the rooms had no windows; others had small barred openings high on the outer sides.

Apparently all the rooms were empty with the exception of what once was probably the kitchen. In it was a huge fireplace and a wooden table covered with mold and a few rusted iron kettles.

“This certainly would be a wonderful hiding place,” George remarked. “Nancy, I don’t want to seem like a quitter, but I don’t think we should go any farther without a light to guide us.”

Nancy agreed. She, too, had begun to feel leery of the dank place.

The two girls returned to the walled garden. Just as they reached it, they heard a car outside the castle. They darted from the enclosure and were just in time to glimpse a sedan disappearing on the far side of the moat. The drawbridge was up. Had it been down and had the car gone across it while they were in the cellar? Or had the automobile merely come as far as the moat and turned around?

“That car looks like the one Mr. Seaman went off in that night I followed him!” George exclaimed. “And the glimpse I had of the driver—well, he could be Mr. Seaman himself!”

“Maybe he gave that warning cry,” said Nancy.

She suggested that the girls walk around to the front of the castle and try to determine whether or not the car had been parked by the wall.

The girls hurried forward and in a few moments Nancy said excitedly, “Look at these tire prints, George! They’re a real clue to the car that was here.”

She pointed to the narrow dirt roadway which ran in front of the wall. The tread marks were very distinct. Three of them were exactly alike—their tires had parallel lines on them.

“But look at this right rear one,” Nancy said. “The tire marks are diamond-shaped.”

George grinned. “I suppose our next job will be to walk up and down the streets of Deep River and find the car.”

“All right,” said Nancy. “Tease me all you like, but I think that would be an excellent idea.”

She proposed that while the girls were there, they try to find out how the drawbridge worked. The great paneled doorway which it formed was tight in place.

“But how are we going to get behind that wall to find out how the bridge works?” George queried.

“Maybe I could squeeze through that little opening up there,” Nancy said, pointing.

Ten feet above them in the sheer rock wall was a rectangular hole through which an ancient cannon was supposed to protrude. Nancy stood on George’s shoulders and looked through. Inside, a great courtyard surrounded the castle. The front of the castle was only a sheer wall, but the other three sides had wide stone porticos from which rooms and corridors opened.

The drawbridge, which was in the front wall, Nancy noted, was manipulated by two heavy chains. Someone had to be inside the castle wall to pull them down or release them.

The young sleuth found that she could wriggle through the opening and knew she could drop to the other side. Did she dare?

“I’m going to try it!” Nancy determined.

She disappeared, while George held her breath. If something happened to Nancy, how could she ever help her? Suddenly she heard the chain begin to rasp and the drawbridge slowly lowered. In a few seconds George was relieved to see Nancy on the other side, unharmed.

With a deep sigh she said, “You found how to work the bridge. Wonderful!”

“The question is, can we get across before somebody pulls it up again?” Nancy speculated.

The two girls sped across the bridge as if a tidal wave were about to overtake them. They reached the other side without anything happening.

“Now let’s walk back along the road and see if there’s any truth to my theory,” said George, “that when a person goes over a certain section of road while the bridge is down, it automatically lifts up.”

“Wait!” Nancy called. “Just in case you’re right and we want to come here again without swimming across the moat, why don’t we try to fasten this end of the bridge down?”

“That’s a good idea,” George agreed. “Suppose I pile up some rocks, while you go to the car and see if you can find any wire.”

By the time Nancy returned, George had lugged several heavy rocks and placed them on either side of the end of the drawbridge.

“That’s great!” said Nancy. “I found this wire. Do you suppose we can attach it?”

“There are some posts in the ground with iron hooks on the end of each one,” George replied, “I’ll bet they were used for this very purpose.”

She and Nancy also found stout hooks under the edge of the drawbridge. Together, the girls fastened several strands of the wire to the hooks, securing the bridge tightly.

Suddenly George began to laugh. “When the person who controls this bridge comes to raise it, can’t you just see the look on his face? We’d better get out of here before he discovers us!”

“He may have seen us already,” said Nancy.

The girls hurried off to the car. They had just started to drive away when Nancy’s conscience began to bother her. “You know, George, you and I have been tampering with private property. We could get into trouble over this.”

“Don’t be silly!” George scoffed. “If we can solve a mystery and catch some crooks, even the police would praise us for finding a way to trap them.”

“Aren’t you assuming a lot?” Nancy asked. “We don’t know if there are any crooks at the castle. That person who warned us away may just be queer.”

“All the same, I’ll bet the owner doesn’t know he’s staying there and would thank us for finding it out,” George defended herself. “And how about Mr. Seaman’s being here, his wanting to give you something and the moonstone sent to you? Maybe all these have some connection with Moonstone Castle.”

Nancy nodded. “Could be.”

She said she would leave the bridge wired down, hoping no one would raise it. “If your hunch about the castle being used as a secret headquarters is right, then we should get help and really investigate the place.”

“You mean the police?” George asked.

“I was just thinking,” Nancy replied, “that instead of contacting the police, we might try to get Ned and Burt and Dave to go with us.”

Burt Eddleton and Dave Evans were college friends of Ned, now camp counselors at Sylvan Lake near River Heights. Dave dated Bess, and Burt enjoyed taking George to parties.

“Great,” said George. “And if the bridge is up and we can’t get to the castle by car, we’ll rent a boat.”

When Bess heard the story of the girls’ adventure and Nancy’s suggestion, she smiled but said, “You certainly took a chance, Nancy. I’m glad you didn’t go any farther. As for asking the boys to go sleuthing with us, I’m all for it—a lot more fun than taking the police!”

Nancy put in a call to Ned, who was delighted to hear from her. “I haven’t had a letter in ages,” he complained. “But this is even better.”

Quickly Nancy told of her idea and said that Bess and George were keen about it. “Can you come?”

“Well, speaking for myself, try to keep me away!” Ned replied. “Hold the phone and I’ll ask Burt and Dave. We all have a weekend off coming.” He came back in a few minutes and said that the boys had accepted the invitation with alacrity and the three would arrive at Long View late the following afternoon.

Bess, when told of the arrangements, said, her dimples showing, “It’s a good thing Alan is leaving tomorrow. I hate complications!”

She insisted that the other girls meet Alan, so they walked over to the swimming pool where she had left him a short time before. She introduced Alan, a tanned, good-looking boy. After a few moments’ conversation, he said: “I’d like to invite all you girls to a picnic this evening. It’s my Grandmother’s birthday. She lives here in Deep River. That’s why my family came up. There are so many of us we can’t stay at her house. On Grandmother’s birthday the whole family gathers to celebrate it.”

Alan explained that the outdoor picnic was to be held at his grandmother’s house and gave the girls the address. “Tonight’s the big night,” he said. “Will you three come and help us pay homage?”

At first the girls demurred, saying that they were total strangers to Mrs. Ryder, but Alan was insistent. “The more people who come, the better she likes it. Half the town will be there.”

Finally the girls accepted. Nancy said she would drive her own car so the girls would be free to leave without taking Alan away from the celebration.

“But I would like to come for Bess,” he said, and she quickly accepted.

All the girls went swimming, then dressed for the picnic. When they were ready to leave, Nancy said, “Bess, we’ll follow you and Alan since we don’t know the way.”

When Alan arrived, they all went over to the parking lot. Nancy had left the convertible near a planting of rhododendron bushes, but to her surprise, it was not there. She glanced at all the automobiles in the parking area. Hers was not among them.

“My car’s gone!” she cried out.

“What! Why, Nancy, you left it right here not two hours ago!” George exclaimed.

“Someone has stolen it!” Bess said fearfully.

Nancy hurried back inside the motel and phoned police headquarters. She gave a description of the car and the license number to the sergeant on duty. He said he would send out a radio alarm at once.

“And will you do something else for me?” Nancy asked. “I’d like to know who the owner is of the car with the following license number.” She gave the one George had seen on the sedan in which Mr. Seaman had driven off.

Alan said he felt very sorry for Nancy and would like to help. “We’re early for the picnic. Suppose I drive you around town to see if we can spot your car. Maybe it wasn’t really stolen—just borrowed.”

“I don’t think so,” said Nancy. “I didn’t leave the keys in the ignition and only a car thief would have taken it.”

Although the young people rode all over Deep River, they failed to find any trace of the missing convertible. When they finally stopped at police headquarters, Nancy was told that there was no report yet on her car.

“But someone,” said the sergeant, “saw a convertible like yours being driven out of town by a woman.”

As Nancy pondered this startling information, the sergeant said, “By the way, the owner of the car you asked about is Ralph Seaman. He lives at 24 Willow Road.”

“Thank you very much,” said Nancy.

By this time Nancy had lost all her enthusiasm for Grandmother Ryder’s picnic. But she did not want to seem like a poor sport and accompanied the others. They congratulated the attractive, elderly woman and thanked her for letting them come. Then the young people moved away.