The Haunted Bridge Read online

  Finally Bess exclaimed, “It’s loosening! Yes, it’s coming! Nancy, you shall have the honor of opening the chest.”

  “It may be filled with worthless things.” Nancy laughed, but her hand trembled with excitement as she slowly raised the lid.

  The girls stared into the interior, their eyes fastened in awe on the amazing contents. Nancy was the first to recover from her astonishment.

  “It’s almost unbelievable!” she murmured in a half-whisper. “I never dreamed that the chest contained anything like this!”

  The carved brass case was filled to the top with jewelry. Even a casual glance assured Nancy and her friends that the pieces were genuine. There were necklaces of rubies, emeralds and turquoise, also rings with unusual settings and many other gold and silver pieces.

  “All this must be worth a fortune,” Bess murmured. “Nancy, you’ll be rich!”

  “The jewelry isn’t mine just because I found it.”

  “But the owner may never be located,” George said hopefully as she lifted a silver bracelet from the chest. “Isn’t this gorgeous?”

  Nancy was attracted by an emerald necklace, but as she started to lift it from the chest she saw an object beneath it which was of far greater interest to her. The article was a jeweled compact!

  Eagerly she picked up the gleaming container and opened it. A tiny picture was fitted into the lower half of the mirror! As Nancy showed it to her friends, Bess declared, “It’s the photo of a child.”

  “Evidently it was ruined by water,” George observed. “This looks like the picture of a little girl.”

  George and Bess could not imagine why Nancy should consider the discovery so important. She was tempted to tell them of her father’s search for the possessor of just such an article. But recalling that the secret was not hers to reveal, she remained silent.

  “Nancy, you don’t seem pleased over all this treasure,” Bess remarked as she and George continued to examine the beautiful pieces.

  “I was just thinking—” Nancy answered absently. “I must show Dad the chest as soon as he returns to the hotel.”

  Shortly after eleven o’clock the girls heard Mr. Drew enter his room directly across the hall. Nancy lost no time in showing her father the carved brass chest. She threw open the lid, enjoying his look of amazement as he beheld the dazzling display of gems.

  “Nancy, have you robbed a jewelry store?” he teased.

  His daughter laughed and explained briefly how the chest had come into her possession. She climaxed the startling story by thrusting the jeweled compact into his hand.

  “Dad, could this be the article we’ve been trying to trace?”

  Carson Drew carefully examined the gleaming object.

  “It certainly fits the description. And there’s no question about the quality of the jewelry.”

  “Dad, the chest may have been hidden by a member of the gang of thieves.”

  “Yes, that’s very possible. This discovery may change all our plans.”

  “And to complicate them, it will be harder to track down the mysterious woman since she won’t be carrying the telltale compact.”

  Carson Drew gave a sigh and suppressed a yawn. He said, “If this compact belongs to her—yes. We have no other clue. Suppose I keep this jewelry in my possession until I communicate with New York City detectives. I’ll telephone immediately and give a description of every piece in the chest. Possibly they can identify the jewelry as stolen property.”

  Before saying good night, Nancy told her father that she was scheduled to play in the first round of the golf tournament the following day. Then she kissed him and went off to bed.

  Nine o’clock the next morning Nancy was waiting at the first tee for Miss Amy Gray, whose name had been drawn with her own for the initial match.

  Bess and George were on hand to see their friend’s first drive. They had decided against following her over the course, fearing that their presence might prove distracting. Nancy had arranged for Chris to caddy for her. He smiled encouragingly as she took a few practice swings.

  “How does your hand feel?” George inquired.

  “Oh, fine,” Nancy answered.

  Amy Gray, about thirty and slightly plump, soon arrived with her caddy. She drove a ball which sped two hundred yards straight down the fairway. Calmly Nancy stepped to the tee and sent her own ball within a few feet of that of her opponent.

  Bess and George were delighted at the beautiful shot. From the first tee, they watched the pair play the hole and were almost certain that Nancy had won by a stroke.

  “She’s starting off pretty well even if her hand does bother her,” Bess declared gleefully.

  Amy Gray was an able player and did not waste strokes. She took the second hole and the third, leaving Nancy on the defensive. After that, it was a grim fight with first one player having the advantage, then the other. Finally when Amy shot a ball into the river on the fifteenth fairway Nancy knew that she herself would win the match.

  “You’re playing a beautiful game,” Amy congratulated her.

  “I’m afraid my final score won’t be as low as I’d like,” Nancy replied. “That is, not unless I make pars on the last three holes. Number sixteen isn’t my favorite, either.”

  She smiled significantly at Chris, who averted his eyes in embarrassment. He was still ashamed because he had refused to search for her lost ball near the haunted bridge.

  Nancy sent a long ball flying down the fairway, and was glad it did not enter the woods. As she walked along with her caddy, she told him she had investigated the ravine.

  “Your bridge has no ghost, Chris.”

  “But I’ve seen the—the thing moving about,” the boy said defensively.

  “What you saw through the trees was a white scarecrow.”

  “A scarecrow?” He laughed. “Well, that’s a good joke on me and the other guys. We were sure it was a ghost because we could hear the thing screaming. How do you explain that?”

  “I can’t yet, Chris,” said Nancy, “But I’m sure that the screams are not supernatural.”

  The boy looked doubtful. “I’m sorry I wouldn’t look for your lost ball the other day,” he apologized. “If I were sure you’re right about the ghost I’d search for it later.”

  Nancy smiled in amusement because she saw that Chris was torn by conflicting emotions. He wanted to find the golf ball, but he could not rid himself of the fear he felt about looking for it.

  Nancy said, “I’d especially like to recover that ball because it was autographed by Jimmy Harlow.”

  “Wow, no wonder you want to get it back,” Chris murmured enviously. “I’ll look for it.”

  “Have you always lived near Deer Mountain Hotel?” Nancy asked him as they were walking together toward the last hole.

  “Sure.” Chris grinned. “All my life.”

  “Then you must know nearly everyone for miles around. Tell me, did you ever hear of a house near the hotel that burned recently?”

  The caddy looked slightly puzzled a moment, then he smiled.

  “Oh, you must mean the Judson mansion. It stood over there.”

  With a sweep of his arm, Chris pointed back toward the woods. He said, “It was kind of close to the bridge—on the other side of the ravine. It burned more than two years ago in the middle of the night. No one knew how the fire started.”

  “You say a family named Judson lived in the house?”

  “Not a family. Only Miss Margaret Judson.”

  “And is she an old lady?” Nancy inquired.

  “Oh, no, she’d be about twenty-three or four now. Her parents died, and she was engaged to marry some guy—a professor at a college near here. But they never did get married. After the fire she ran away and no one heard much about her after that.”

  “It was odd that she disappeared directly after the fire,” Nancy remarked.

  “Yes, but the Judsons were strange. My mother could tell you a lot more about the family.”

&nbsp
; Nancy was elated. This was the first tangible clue she had had to the identity of the young woman with whom she had talked at Hemlock Hall. Would Chris’s mother be able to tell her more regarding Margaret Judson—facts perhaps which would connect her with the brass chest discovered near her former home?

  “Where do you and your mother live?” Nancy asked the caddy.

  Chris gave his address and Nancy wrote it down. “I’ll go to see her,” she said.

  CHAPTER VII

  Ravine Riddle

  NANCY played brilliantly on the eighteenth hole. Her hand had not pained her. Fortunately the bandage had not hampered the young golfer in driving the ball or using the putter to tap it into the cup.

  Bess and George were waiting at the eighteenth green when Nancy and her opponent ended the round. They approached their friend the instant Amy Gray was out of hearing, and congratulated Nancy on winning the match.

  “We knew you’d do it,” Bess declared proudly. “Tomorrow you’ll take the second round, and then you’ll be well on your way to the championship!”

  “It won’t be easy,” Nancy replied. “The second match is always harder than the first, because you’re facing a better player.”

  “How was your score?” George asked.

  “Not very good. I came in with an eighty. I must get down into the low seventies or under to win.”

  “You can do it, Nancy,” Bess said confidently. “How about lunch, girls?”

  “Great,” Nancy agreed. “If we have it early maybe we won’t run into Barty.”

  The three girls were relieved to find the hotel dining room practically deserted. After enjoying a leisurely meal they wandered out-of-doors. Nancy’s gaze roved toward the sixteenth fairway.

  “You’re not considering more golf?” George asked in surprise.

  Nancy shook her head. “Eighteen holes is enough for me today. Chris was telling me about an old mansion which burned a couple of years ago. Miss Margaret Judson, the owner, lived there. The place is over in the general direction of the bridge. Let’s hike to it.” She chuckled. “Maybe we’ll find another lost treasure.”

  Though the idea of the trek did not appeal to Bess, she and George agreed to accompany Nancy. The three were cutting across the fairway of the eighteenth hole when they encountered Bartescue.

  “Hello,” he called. “Where are you going?”

  “Oh, on a little hike,” Nancy replied as he fell into step with them.

  He said quickly, “I have a little time to kill before I play my match this afternoon.”

  “I doubt if we’ll be back very soon,” Nancy said pointedly. “You might miss your match if you come along.”

  “In other words, ‘no gentlemen wanted.’ ” Bartescue laughed. “Oh, well, I was only teasing. I couldn’t have gone anyway because I tee off at one-thirty.” With a wide, knowing grin he left.

  “Do you think Barty suspects we’re on a special saearch?” Bess asked in an undertone a moment later.

  “He acted as if he does,” Nancy said.

  Glancing over their shoulders to make certain they were not being watched, the girls cut through the woods. They approached the old wooden bridge cautiously.

  “The scarecrow is waving its arms back and forth as usual,” Bess observed nervously as they glimpsed it through the trees. “I have a strong hunch that we’re walking straight into trouble.”

  George laughed at Bess’s fears. “Don’t be negative,” George said.

  Nancy looked up and down the stream. “This is probably the only place near here to cross the ravine,” she said. “I think the bridge should bear our weight if we walk over one at a time.”

  The young detective went first. After she safely reached the opposite side, George followed. Bess came last, uttering a muffled little shriek as the flapping scarecrow brushed her arm.

  “Sh—sh!” Nancy warned. “We don’t want to broadcast our arrival.”

  “You’d scream too if that thing wrapped itself around—” Bess retorted.

  George interrupted. “Nancy, I don’t see how you expect to find the burned mansion when you don’t know the way.” She ducked to avoid being scratched by a low-hanging thorny branch. “Did Chris say it was on this side of the bridge?”

  Nancy replied, “He pointed toward the left in this general direction. I think we’re heading right. I see a trail.”

  Nancy indicated a faintly outlined path directly ahead. When the girls reached it they were puzzled to find still another trail branching away from the ravine.

  “Which shall we take?” Bess asked as Nancy hesitated. “It looks as if the one that follows along the edge of the ravine might have been used recently.”

  “Yes, so probably it’s the other one. Anyway, let’s try it,” Nancy suggested.

  She pushed forward again, the scraggly bushes tearing at her clothing. Bess and George followed as best they could. Presently the trio came to a clearing enclosed by a high, uncut hedge.

  “Thank goodness we’re out of that jungle at last.” Bess sighed wearily as she leaned against a tree to rest. “Do you suppose this is the estate, Nancy?”

  The young detective craned her neck. “Yes, I can see something directly ahead that looks like part of a building. This must have been a beautiful place when it was kept up.”

  The grounds covered about five acres, and were wooded with giant oak and willow trees. What probably had been a lush green lawn was choked with weeds, but the vestiges of a rose garden remained.

  There was a huge pile of debris in the very center of the clearing. A charred pillar and several half-burned timbers rose from it. Little else remained of the pretentious mansion.

  “Is this what we’ve come to see?” Bess asked in disgust.

  “What did you expect—that some genie had restored the house?” George replied.

  Nancy said nothing. It had not occurred to her that the Judson fire had been so devastating. She had hoped the charred remains would yield a clue, such as a photograph, to connect some member of the family with the mysterious brass chest. Observing Nancy’s look of disappointment, her friends shrewdly guessed that she had not told them everything.

  “Do you know anything more about Miss Judson?” Bess asked curiously.

  “Chris told me she’s a young woman who has had a tragic life.”

  “I don’t see how you hope to connect her with the brass chest,” George remarked.

  Nancy smiled. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more until Dad gives me permission. I can see there’s nothing to find here, so let’s start back to the hotel.”

  Bess and George did not urge their friend to reveal her secret because of her promise to her father. Few words were exchanged as the three friends made their way laboriously back to the ravine.

  Nancy was absorbed with her own thoughts. Could Margaret Judson be a member of the international gang of jewel thieves?

  “No, not if I’m any judge of character. She just didn’t look like the type,” Nancy reflected.

  Her thoughts were interrupted as a shrill scream broke the stillness. The three girls stopped abruptly.

  “There it is again!” Bess murmured apprehensively, clutching Nancy’s hand. “That awful scream!”

  The girls waited a moment, listening, but the noise was not repeated.

  “I’d certainly like to find out who or what is making that sound,” said Nancy.

  “I’m not sure I would,” said George.

  “It’s all part of the ravine mystery,” Nancy remarked, “but how does it figure in?”

  The girls went on. Presently they reached the dividing point of the two trails. Nancy’s gaze roved down the path along the ravine.

  “I think the sound came from that direction,” she said firmly. “Let’s investigate—”

  “Not me,” Bess cried, grasping Nancy’s arm. “I’ve had enough adventure for one day, thank you.”

  Nancy’s protests were overruled, and she was fairly pulled along toward the haunted br
idge. One at a time the girls crossed it and retraced their steps toward the golf course.

  To keep out of the way of players who might be coming down the fairway, Nancy and her friends walked within the fringe of woods. Now and then they could hear voices and knew that a match was being played somewhere nearby.

  Suddenly an object came whizzing through the air, striking a tree not more than a dozen yards from where the girls were walking. It was a golf ball and landed squarely behind another tree.

  “Someone will have a mean shot to play,” Nancy remarked. “Let’s duck out of sight and watch.”

  The girls had just hidden behind some trees when Martin Bartescue entered the woods. He was muttering to himself, savagely berating “his luck.” The man hunted among the shrubbery for a few minutes and finally came upon his ball.

  “Never mind, caddy,” the girls heard him shout. “I’ve found it.”

  Satisfied that no one was watching, he took an iron club and deftly raked the ball from the hollow spot in which it had lodged. Now, with it lying in an unobstructed path to the fairway, he played a clean shot out of the woods.

  “Did you see that?” Nancy whispered in great disgust. “He cheated!”

  CHAPTER VIII

  The Gardener’s Scare

  “SOMEONE should report Barty to the golf committee,” Bess declared angrily. “The nerve of him to move his ball!”

  “He ought to be barred from further competition,” George added.

  “I agree,” Nancy said.

  When the girls reached the hotel they found Carson Drew seated on the terrace. After he had chatted with the three for a few minutes he took Nancy aside and told her that he would have to leave immediately to catch a plane to New York.

  “I’d appreciate your driving me to the airport and keeping my car. I must go because New York detectives have asked me to bring the brass chest and its contents there for examination,” he explained.

  “Then they think the jewelry may be stolen property?” Nancy asked quickly.

  “Yes. Nancy, keep your eyes open for that woman you encountered at Hemlock Hall. She’ll probably be wanted for questioning.”