The Hidden Staircase Read online

  Miss Flora sat down at the instrument and began to play Beethoven’s “Minuet.” Aunt Rosemary sat down beside her.

  Nancy and Helen, dubbed by the latter, Master and Mistress Colonial America, began to dance. They clasped their right hands high in the air, then took two steps backward and made little bows. They circled, then strutted, and even put in a few steps with which no dancers in Colonial times would have been familiar.

  Aunt Rosemary giggled and clapped. “I wish President Washington would come to see you,” she said, acting out her part in the entertainment. “Mistress Nancy, prithee do an encore and Master Corning, wilt thou accompany thy fair lady?”

  The girls could barely keep from giggling. Helen made a low bow to her aunt, her tricorn in her hand, and said, “At your service, my lady. Your every wish is my command!”

  The minuet was repeated, then as Miss Flora stopped playing, the girls sat down.

  “Oh, that was such fun!” said Nancy. “Some time I’d like to—Listen!” she commanded suddenly.

  From outside the house they could hear loud shouting. “Come here! You in the house! Come here!”

  Nancy and Helen dashed from their chairs to the front door. Nancy snapped on the porch light and the two girls raced outside.

  “Over here!” a man’s voice urged.

  Nancy and Helen ran down the steps and out onto the lawn. Just ahead of them stood Tom Patrick, the police detective. In a viselike grip he was holding a thin, bent-over man whom the girls judged to be about fifty years of age.

  “Is this your ghost?” the guard asked.

  His prisoner was struggling to free himself but was unable to get loose. The girls hurried forward to look at the man.

  “Is this your ghost?” the police guard asked

  “I caught him sneaking along the edge of the grounds,” Tom Patrick announced.

  “Let me go!” the man cried out angrily. “I’m no ghost. What are you talking about?”

  “You may not be a ghost,” the detective said, “but you could be the thief who has been robbing this house.”

  “What!” his prisoner exclaimed. “I’m no thief! I live around here. Anyone will tell you I’m okay.”

  “What’s your name and where do you live?” the detective prodded. He let the man stand up straight but held one of his arms firmly.

  “My name’s Albert Watson and I live over on Tuttle Road.”

  “What were you doing on this property?”

  Albert Watson said he had been taking a short cut home. His wife had taken their car for the evening.

  “I’d been to a friend’s house. You can call him and verify what I’m saying. And you can call my wife, too. Maybe she’s home now and she’ll come and get me.”

  The guard reminded Albert Watson that he had not revealed why he was sneaking along the ground.

  “Well,” the prisoner said, “it was because of you. I heard downtown that there was a detective patrolling this place and I didn’t want to bump into you. I was afraid of just what did happen.” The man relaxed a little. “I guess you’re a pretty good guard at that.”

  Detective Patrick let go of Albert Watson’s arm. “Your story sounds okay, but we’ll go in the house and do some telephoning to find out if you’re telling the truth.”

  “You’ll find out all right. Why, I’m even a notary public! They don’t give a notary’s license to dishonest folks!” the trespasser insisted. Then he stared at Nancy and Helen, “What are you doing in those funny clothes?”

  “We—are—we were having a little costume party,” Helen responded. In the excitement she and Nancy had forgotten what they were wearing!

  The two girls started for the house, with the men following. When Mr. Watson and the guard saw Miss Flora and Aunt Rosemary also in costume they gazed at the women in amusement.

  Nancy introduced Mr. Watson. Miss Flora said she knew of him, although she had never met the man. Two phone calls by the guard confirmed Watson’s story. In a little while his wife arrived at Twin Elms to drive her husband home, and Detective Patrick went back to his guard duty.

  Aunt Rosemary then turned out all the lights on the first floor and she, Miss Flora, and the girls went upstairs. Bedroom doors were locked, and everyone hoped there would be no disturbance during the night.

  “It was a good day, Nancy,” said Helen, yawning, as she climbed into bed.

  “Yes, it was,” said Nancy. “Of course, I’m a little disappointed that we aren’t farther along solving the mystery but maybe by this time tomorrow—” She looked toward Helen who did not answer. She was already sound asleep.

  Nancy herself was under the covers a few minutes later. She lay staring at the ceiling, going over the various events of the past two days. As her mind recalled the scene in the attic when they were pulling costumes from the old trunk, she suddenly gave a start.

  “That section of wall back of the trunk!” she told herself. “The paneling looked different somehow from the rest of the attic wall. Maybe it’s movable and leads to a secret exit! Tomorrow I’ll find out!”

  CHAPTER X

  The Midnight Watch

  AS SOON AS the two girls awoke the next morning, Nancy told Helen her plan.

  “I’m with you,” said Helen. “Oh, I do wish we could solve the mystery of the ghost! I’m afraid that it’s beginning to affect Miss Flora’s health and yet she won’t leave Twin Elms.”

  “Maybe we can get Aunt Rosemary to keep her in the garden most of the day,” Nancy suggested. “It’s perfectly beautiful outside. We might even serve lunch under the trees.”

  “I’m sure they’d love that,” said Helen. “As soon as we get downstairs, let’s propose it.”

  Both women liked the suggestion. Aunt Rosemary had guessed their strategy and was appreciative of it.

  “I’ll wash and dry the dishes,” Nancy offered when breakfast was over. “Miss Flora, why don’t you and Aunt Rosemary go outside right now and take advantage of this lovely sunshine?”

  The frail, elderly woman smiled. There were deep circles under her eyes, indicating that she had had a sleepless night.

  “And I’ll run the vacuum cleaner around and dust this first floor in less than half an hour,” Helen said merrily.

  Her relatives caught the spirit of her enthusiasm and Miss Flora remarked, “I wish you girls lived here all the time. Despite our troubles, you have brought a feeling of gaiety back into our lives.”

  Both girls smiled at the compliment. As soon as the two women had gone outdoors, the girls set to work with a will. At the end of the allotted half hour, the first floor of the mansion was spotless. Nancy and Helen next went to the second floor, quickly made the beds, and tidied the bathrooms.

  “And now for that ghost!” said Helen, brandishing her flashlight.

  Nancy took her own from a bureau drawer.

  “Let’s see if we can figure out how to climb these attic stairs without making them creak,” Nancy suggested. “Knowing how may come in handy some time.”

  This presented a real challenge. Every inch of each step was tried before the girls finally worked out a pattern to follow in ascending the stairway noiselessly.

  Helen laughed. “This will certainly be a memory test, Nancy. I’ll rehearse our directions. First step, put your foot to the left near the wall. Second step, right center. Third step, against the right wall. I’ll need three feet to do that!”

  Nancy laughed too. “For myself, I think I’ll skip the second step. Let’s see. On the fourth and fifth it’s all right to step in the center, but on the sixth you hug the left wall, on the seventh, the right wall—”

  Helen interrupted. “But if you step on the eighth any place, it will creak. So you skip it.”

  “Nine, ten, and eleven are okay,” Nancy recalled. “But from there to fifteen at the top we’re in trouble.”

  “Let’s see if I remember,” said Helen. “On twelve, you go left, then right, then right again. How can you do that without a jump and losing your
balance and tumbling down?”

  “How about skipping fourteen and then stretching as far as you can to reach the top one at the left where it doesn’t squeak,” Nancy replied. “Let’s go!”

  She and Helen went back to the second floor and began what was meant to be a silent ascent. But both of them made so many mistakes at first the creaking was terrific. Finally, however, the girls had the silent spots memorized perfectly and went up noiselessly.

  Nancy clicked on her flashlight and swung it onto the nearest wood-paneled wall. Helen stared at it, then remarked, “This isn’t made of long panels from ceiling to floor. It’s built of small pieces.”

  “That’s right,” said Nancy. “But see if you don’t agree with me that the spot back of the costume trunk near the chimney looks a little different. The grain doesn’t match the other wood.”

  The girls crossed the attic and Nancy beamed her flashlight over the suspected paneling.

  “It does look different,” Helen said. “This could be a door, I suppose. But there’s no knob or other hardware on it.” She ran her finger over a section just above the floor, following the cracks at the edge of a four-by-two-and-a-half-foot space.

  “If it’s a secret door,” said Nancy, “the knob is on the other side.”

  “How are we going to open it?” Helen questioned.

  “We might try prying the door open,” Nancy proposed. “But first I want to test it.”

  She tapped the entire panel with her knuckles. A look of disappointment came over her face. “There’s certainly no hollow space behind it,” she said.

  “Let’s make sure,” said Helen. “Suppose I go downstairs and get a screw driver and hammer? We’ll see what happens when we drive the screw driver through this crack.”

  “Good idea, Helen.”

  While she was gone, Nancy inspected the rest of the attic walls and floor. She did not find another spot which seemed suspicious. By this time Helen had returned with the tools. Inserting the screw driver into one of the cracks, she began to pound on the handle of it with the hammer.

  Nancy watched hopefully. The screw driver went through the crack very easily but immediately met an obstruction on the other side. Helen pulled the screw driver out. “Nancy, you try your luck.”

  The young sleuth picked a different spot, but the results were the same. There was no open space behind that portion of the attic wall.

  “My hunch wasn’t so good,” said Nancy.

  Helen suggested that they give up and go downstairs. “Anyway, I think the postman will be here soon.” She smiled. “I’m expecting a letter from Jim. Mother said she would forward all my mail.”

  Nancy did not want to give up the search yet. But she nodded in agreement and waved her friend toward the stairs. Then the young detective sat down on the floor and cupped her chin in her hands. As she stared ahead, Nancy noticed that Helen, in her eagerness to meet the postman, had not bothered to go quietly down the attic steps. It sounded as if Helen had picked the squeakiest spot on each step!

  Nancy heard Helen go out the front door and suddenly realized that she was in the big mansion all alone. “That may bring the ghost on a visit,” she thought. “If he is around, he may think I went outside with Helen! And I may learn where the secret opening is!”

  Nancy sat perfectly still, listening intently. Suddenly she flung her head up. Was it her imagination, or did she hear the creak of steps? She was not mistaken. Nancy strained her ears, trying to determine from where the sounds were coming.

  “I’m sure they’re not from the attic stairs or the main staircase. And not the back stairway. Even if the ghost was in the kitchen and unlocked the door to the second floor, he’d know that the one at the top of the stairs was locked from the other side.”

  Nancy’s heart suddenly gave a leap. She was positive that the creaking sounds were coming from somewhere behind the attic wall!

  “A secret staircase!” she thought excitedly. “Maybe the ghost is entering the second floor!”

  Nancy waited until the sounds stopped, then she got to her feet, tiptoed noiselessly down the attic steps and looked around. She could hear nothing. Was the ghost standing quietly in one of the bedrooms? Probably Miss Flora’s?

  Treading so lightly that she did not make a sound, Nancy peered into each room as she reached it. But no one was in any of them.

  “Maybe he’s on the first floor!” Nancy thought.

  She descended the main stairway, hugging the wall so she would not make a sound. Reaching the first floor, Nancy peered into the parlor. No one was there. She looked in the library, the dining room, and the kitchen. She saw no one.

  “Well, the ghost didn’t come into the house after all,” Nancy concluded. “He may have intended to, but changed his mind.”

  She felt more certain than at any time, however, that there was a secret entrance to Twin Elms Mansion from a hidden stairway. But how to find it? Suddenly the young sleuth snapped her fingers. “I know what I’ll do! I’ll set a trap for that ghost!”

  She reflected that he had taken jewelry, but those thefts had stopped. Apparently he was afraid to go to the second floor.

  “I wonder if anything is missing from the first floor,” she mused. “Maybe he has taken silver-ware or helped himself to some food.”

  Going to the back door, Nancy opened it and called to Helen, who was now seated in the garden with Miss Flora and Aunt Rosemary. “What say we start lunch?” she called, not wishing to distress Miss Flora by bringing up the subject of the mystery.

  “Okay,” said Helen. In a few moments she joined Nancy, who asked if her friend had received a letter.

  Helen’s eyes sparkled. “I sure did. Oh, Nancy, I can hardly wait for Jim to get home!”

  Nancy smiled. “The way you describe him, I can hardly wait to see him myself.” Then she told Helen the real reason she had called her into the kitchen. She described the footsteps on what she was sure was a hidden, creaking stairway, then added, “If we discover that food or something else is missing we’ll know he’s been here again.”

  Helen offered to inspect the flat silver. “I know approximately how many pieces should be in the buffet drawer,” she said.

  “And I’ll look over the food supplies,” Nancy suggested. “I have a pretty good idea what was in the refrigerator and on the pantry shelf.”

  It was not many minutes before each of the girls discovered articles missing. Helen said that nearly a dozen teaspoons were gone and Nancy figured that several cans of food, some eggs, and a quart of milk had been taken.

  “It just seems impossible to catch that thief,” Helen said with a sigh.

  On a sudden hunch Nancy took down from the wall a memo pad and pencil which hung there. Putting a finger to her lips to indicate that Helen was not to comment, Nancy wrote on the sheet:

  “I think the only way to catch the ghost is to trap him. I believe he has one or more microphones hidden some place and that he hears all our plans.”

  Nancy looked up at Helen, who nodded silently. Nancy continued to write, “I don’t want to worry Miss Flora or Aunt Rosemary, so let’s keep our plans a secret. I suggest that we go to bed tonight as usual and carry on a conversation about our plans for tomorrow. But actually we won’t take off our clothes. Then about midnight let’s tiptoe downstairs to watch. I’ll wait in the kitchen. Do you want to stay in the living room?”

  Again Helen nodded. Nancy, thinking that they had been quiet too long, and that if there was an eavesdropper nearby he might become suspicious, said aloud, “What would Miss Flora and Aunt Rosemary like for lunch, Helen?”

  “Why, uh—” Helen found it hard to transfer to the new subject. “They—uh—both love soup.”

  “Then I’ll make cream of chicken soup,” said Nancy. “Hand me a can of chicken and rice, will you? And I’ll get the milk.”

  As Helen was doing this, Nancy lighted a match, held her recently written note over the sink, and set fire to the paper.

  Helen smil
ed. “Nancy thinks of everything,” she said to herself.

  The girls chatted gaily as they prepared the food and finally carried four trays out to the garden. They did not mention their midnight plan. The day in the garden was proving to be most beneficial to Miss Flora, and the girls were sure she would sleep well that night.

  Nancy’s plan was followed to the letter. Just as the grandfather clock in the hall was striking midnight, Nancy arrived in the kitchen and sat down to await developments. Helen was posted in a living-room chair near the hall doorway. Moonlight streamed into both rooms but the girls had taken seats in the shadows.

  Helen was mentally rehearsing the further instructions which Nancy had written to her during the afternoon. The young sleuth had suggested that if Helen should see anyone, she was to run to the front door, open it, and yell “Police!” At the same time she was to try to watch where the intruder disappeared.

  The minutes ticked by. There was not a sound in the house. Then suddenly Nancy heard the front door open with a bang and Helen’s voice yell loudly and clearly:

  “Police! Help! Police!”

  CHAPTER XI

  An Elusive Ghost

  BY THE time Nancy reached the front hall, Tom Patrick, the police guard, had rushed into the house. “Here I am!” he called. “What’s the matter?”

  Helen led the way into the living room, and switched on the chandelier light.

  “That sofa next to the fireplace!” she said in a trembling voice. “It moved! I saw it move!”

  “You mean somebody moved it?” the detective asked.

  “I—I don’t know,” Helen replied. “I couldn’t see anybody.”

  Nancy walked over to the old-fashioned sofa, set in the niche alongside the fireplace. Certainly the piece was in place now. If the ghost had moved it, he had returned the sofa to its original position.