The Moonstone Castle Mystery Read online

  “My father had to take a business trip, so he asked me to come up here and make some inquiries.”

  “And what is it you want to know?” Mr. Wheeler asked, his voice now showing a note of suspicion.

  “It’s about Mrs. Horton’s granddaughter to whom she left her money.”

  “Well?” Mr. Wheeler lifted his eyebrows. “Everything was in order. Just before Mrs. Horton’s death she left a note giving the address of her granddaughter. The girl was notified and came here from New York City. Her lawyer accompanied her. She had full credentials to prove who she was.” After a pause Mr. Wheeler added, “So she inherited Mrs. Horton’s estate. That’s all there is to the story.”

  “But she couldn’t have!” Bess blurted. “She was only three years old!”

  Mr. Wheeler smiled affably. “Oh, no,” he said. “She was twenty-one.”

  Nancy, Bess, and George were stunned. “Where is Joanie Horton now?” Nancy asked.

  “I have no idea,” the retired lawyer answered.

  Nancy’s mind was in a whirl. If Mr. Wheeler’s story were true, who were the Mr. and Mrs. Bowen that had come to Mr. Drew? Were they impostors? If so, what was their scheme? On the other hand, Nancy reflected, maybe a great hoax had been perpetrated and an impostor had received the estate.

  A similar thought went through George’s mind. She asked abruptly, “Mr. Wheeler, weren’t you suspicious about that girl who claimed to be Joanie Horton?”

  The former lawyer’s face instantly turned red, then almost purple. He jumped from his chair and in anger shouted, “How dare you, young lady! The idea of questioning my integrity! I suggest that you and your friends leave at once!”

  CHAPTER VI

  A Legal Tangle

  “WHY, Mr. Wheeler, I didn’t mean—” George broke in. “Please forgive me.”

  The retired lawyer, mollified by George’s apology, took a deep breath.

  “Perhaps I should explain,” Nancy said. “We heard that Mrs. Horton had a little grandchild staying with her. But no one in Deep River seems to know anything about her. Your story startled us.”

  Mr. Wheeler finally calmed down. “I will outline the circumstances,” he said, seating himself again. “When I was called in, Mrs. Horton was already dead. Only the doctor and the undertaker were there, but they showed me several notes left by her on a bedside table, along with a couple of signed checks. All were in the old woman’s handwriting. One said the granddaughter mentioned in her will lived at a certain address in New York City. Another note said she desired a private funeral. A third requested that since Joan’s parents were not living, I was to take charge of everything.

  “Accordingly, I notified the granddaughter who came here with a lawyer and a couple. They were friends. Joan had with her a birth certificate, a copy of the marriage license of her parents, and letters from her grandmother. The identification seemed bona fide.”

  Bess inquired, “The age of the grandchild and a guardian were not mentioned in the will?”

  “No,” Mr. Wheeler answered. “By the way, I did not draw the will. The lawyer who had and the witnesses who had signed it were not living.”

  “Was there a large estate?” Nancy queried.

  The retired lawyer said there had been very little cash in Mrs. Horton’s home safe, but he had found many securities there. “All of them were transferred to Joan,” he explained. “After she left the Horton house, I never heard from her again.”

  “Did she sell the property?” George spoke up.

  “Yes. It was purchased by neighbors, but it has since been sold to other people.”

  “What was the name of the couple who worked for Mrs. Horton just before her death?” Nancy asked. Mr. Wheeler said he did not know.

  All this time Nancy had been studying the elderly man’s face. It was an enigma to her. Was he completely honest or was he involved in a crooked deal regarding the will?

  George asked, “Those notes you were given—could they possibly have been forgeries?”

  The retired lawyer, instead of becoming angry over the question, looked troubled. “I most certainly hope not,” he said.

  “Did you keep the notes?” Nancy asked.

  “No, I didn’t. As a matter of fact, I laid them down at the Horton house and they disappeared. I assumed someone had thrown them away, thinking they were no longer of any use.”

  Nancy stood up. She felt that the girls had gleaned all the information possible from Mr. Wheeler, who appeared genuinely upset.

  “I’m sorry we disturbed you,” said Nancy. “Thank you very much for this information. I’ll pass it along to my dad. Probably he will be in touch with you when he returns home.”

  Bess and George said good-by, but Mr. Wheeler did not rise. He seemed stunned and his thoughts far away. Nancy wished she were a mind reader! Had Mr. Wheeler told all the facts?

  The girls let themselves out the front door and started for the car. “That was really something, wasn’t it?” Bess remarked.

  “I don’t know who was more stunned—Mr. Wheeler or me,” said Nancy.“ Do you realize what this means, girls? If this whole thing was a grand hoax, and someone got away with Mrs. Horton’s estate, there’s no chance of the real Joanie Horton’s getting it, or even of being found.”

  “And don’t forget,” Bess added, “that we haven’t learned one single thing about the three-year-old child named Joanie Horton. It looks as if she never existed!”

  “It sure is a mystery,” said George, as the girls climbed into the car.

  After lunch they returned to the motel. Nancy went at once to the telephone and tried to call her father. She learned, however, that he had left the San Francisco hotel, but was expected back in a few days.

  Nancy next called Hannah Gruen. When the housekeeper heard the latest developments in the case, she was alarmed by the news.

  “There may be more danger in this mystery than you bargained for, Nancy,” she said. “If your father should phone, I’ll give him your message and I’m sure he’ll get in touch with you.” The kindly woman begged Nancy to use extreme caution as she proceeded in her sleuthing.

  “Don’t forget,” Nancy reminded her with a chuckle, “that the moonstone I brought is supposed to bring me good luck!”

  “Moonstone, bah!” Mrs. Gruen said. “Use your good common sense and you’ll be better off!”

  As Nancy said good-by, Bess came up to her and announced she would like to offer a suggestion. “Don’t you think you ought to get in touch with the Bowens and tell them the whole story?”

  Nancy shook her head. “I’ll call them, but I won’t tell them what we’ve learned. It’s possible that they may be the phonies. I’m sure I can’t imagine what their game would be after all these years, but Dad says never take anything for granted. I think we should try to learn the truth in this case before telling them anything more. But I do want to ask them a question.”

  Nancy put in the call to the couple, who were staying in New York City. She told them she had nothing to report, but thought they themselves might get a clue to their missing grandchild through the organization which had sent them to Africa as missionaries. Surely it would have notified Mrs. Horton of their capture. “What was the name of the group?” she asked.

  Mr. Bowen said it was the African Brotherhood Society of New York. “Unfortunately, the Society has been out of existence several years, so there are no contacts in that direction.”

  “That’s too bad,” said Nancy, who realized it would be very difficult to trace anyone who had been in the organization fifteen years before. “Well, I’ll say good-by now. If I learn anything worthwhile, I’ll get in touch with you.”

  George joined the other girls and they discussed the case from every angle. Nancy gave a great sigh. “I think the best thing for me to do right now is clear my brain of the Horton case for a while.”

  Bess giggled. “How do you propose to do that?”

  “By taking a swim. Shall we get ready to go back to the
castle? I’d like to find out if anyone is staying there illegally, and if such a person has anything to do with our case.”

  “Let’s go,” said George.

  Bess was silent. Finally she confessed, “Nancy, while you were telephoning, an absolute dream boy here at the motel asked me to play tennis.” She looked off into the distance. “But I’ll go with you,” she added.

  Nancy and George began to laugh. “Like fun you will,” said George. “You just can’t wait to get out on the court with that boy.”

  “You know,” said Nancy, “it might not be a bad idea. It might fool any inquisitive people if Bess doesn’t act as if she were at Long View just as a detective. You go ahead, Bess, and play tennis. If George and I aren’t back in three hours, then suppose you and whoosy-whatsus come after us.”

  Bess blinked and flung up her head. “Okay, but his name’s Alan Ryder!” she retorted.

  George sniffed. “Better be sure, dear coz, that he is not one of the Seaman gang!”

  Bess stamped her foot furiously. “George Fayne, there are times when I could pull your hair right out by the roots!” She stalked off.

  Giggling, Nancy and George went to their room. They undressed, put on swim suits, and over them their shorts and shirts. They rolled towels in waterproof bags which they would carry across the moat.

  The two girls drove off, excited by the prospect of what they might learn about the old castle. Just before reaching the drawbridge, George began to laugh. “Nancy, maybe you and I are a couple of goofs.”

  “We probably are,” Nancy admitted, “but what put that idea into your head?”

  George explained she had heard that in olden times some drawbridges were built so they could be controlled from the far side of the moat as well as the inside of the castle. “If an unwanted visitor or enemy approached the bridge while it was down, a secret mechanism under the road worked automatically to raise the bridge. Maybe there’s hidden machinery on this side. In that case, maybe nobody was at the castle when we walked toward the bridge. We may have set off the mechanism, and up went the bridge!”

  “I suppose you could be right,” Nancy agreed, “but I still think somebody on the inside let down those two great chains on the bridge. And perhaps the same person was responsible for running water into the moat.”

  “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”

  They swam to the other side of the moat

  CHAPTER VII

  The Reekless Pilot

  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.”