The Clue in the Diary Read online

  “A man certainly appreciates a ride home after a hard day on his feet,” Swenson remarked, leaning back against the cushion. “I’m not yet accustomed to standing eight hours, but I’ll be all right in a week or so. I’m glad to earn a little money by any means, after being out of work for so long.”

  As George drove down the street, Nancy said, “Mr. Swenson, the mystery about your lost letters has been solved.” Quickly she explained about the mail clerk who had been arrested.

  The inventor was shocked, and shook his head sadly. “I’m glad he has been caught. But what an unfortunate thing for him to do. He probably has a family—they’ll have to suffer with him. Crimes, big or little, are so useless. Whatever profits they may bring are always temporary.”

  Nancy nodded. She was becoming more convinced every minute that Joe Swenson was an honest person!

  “I have another surprise,” she said. “Your diary was picked up near the drive to the Raybolt house.” She took the journal from her handbag. “Would you mind translating some of the Swedish for me?”

  “My diary! Oh, how lucky!” Almost affectionately he began to turn the pages. “Here is an item about Honey’s birthday. How she loved the little toy I made for her! I was always planning to try to market those mechanical dolls, but I never got to it.”

  George interrupted to ask which direction to take, and Nancy said, “Oh, let’s just ride out into the country.”

  She wanted to elude the men who intended to arrest Mr. Swenson until she could make up her mind what to do. Suddenly the inventor’s face darkened. “Here’s a note about Felix Raybolt.” He translated, “‘I have been warned by my friend Anson Heilberg not to let Raybolt see my invention but I shall take a chance. I must because I need money for rent and food. He will give me an advance.’ ”

  Mr. Swenson remarked bitterly, “How I wish I had listened to Anson! Felix Raybolt would not give me another cent or any part of a royalty from the use of my electrochemical process for putting a ceramic finish on steel!”

  “How terribly unfair!” Bess cried out, and the other girls expressed the same opinion.

  Nancy then told the inventor that a friend of hers had found the signet ring. “I’ll see that it is returned to you,” Nancy assured him.

  “Well, that is good news,” said Mr. Swenson.

  Nancy gradually switched the conversation to the Raybolt fire, and said, “The investigators report that the explosions in the house could have been caused by a freak accident: a television set not working properly; a defective electronic heating device setting off some kind of explosive stored in the cellar. Mr. Swenson, have you any idea what really happened at the Raybolts’?”

  Mr. Swenson looked at Nancy searchingly. “My answer might explain a good many angles to the case,” he said slowly. “As you probably know, it’s against the law to store explosives without a permit. I believe Felix Raybolt was breaking that law. He probably was in the house waiting for me and accidentally caused the explosion himself!”

  “But they found no evidence of—of a body,” Bess spoke up with a shudder.

  “Mr. Raybolt undoubtedly escaped, and then disappeared, knowing he would be arrested,” the inventor said vehemently.

  “But you didn’t see him run out?” Nancy queried.

  “No.”

  “We should have looked for footprints, but I guess it’s too late now,” Nancy remarked.

  “Oh, why didn’t we think of that!” Bess murmured. She had turned around to watch out the rear window for any pursuers. Suddenly she gasped. “Police!”

  George had just passed a side road. From it shot a car with two state troopers. When it turned in their direction, George said grimly, “I hope they’re not after us.”

  All the occupants of the convertible grew tense, but Nancy said, “Just keep going at this same speed. Let’s not act guilty.”

  By this time she was convinced of Mr. Swenson’s innocence, and hoped fervently that the officers were not pursuing her car. Nancy doubted they would take her word about the truth of the inventor’s story.

  “Maybe they’re after someone else—for speeding,” Bess said, though without conviction.

  Nancy stole a glance out the rear window. Her spirits sank. The State Police car was gaining on them, but did not look as though it was going to pass the convertible.

  An uneasy thought crossed Nancy’s mind. “If those troopers are after Joe Swenson, then George, Bess, and I might be arrested for aiding a suspected criminal to escape!”

  George was forced to slow down for a sharp curve. Directly beyond it, two men were driving a small herd of cattle across the highway.

  “What luck!” George cried, slowing down.

  She honked her horn and tried to edge through, but only succeeded in frightening the cows so that they stood motionless. The convertible came to a halt. Behind it, the police car drew nearer.

  Nancy had a sudden impulse to tell Joe Swenson to duck down out of sight, then checked herself. Such an action would indeed make the officers suspicious. Instead, she slipped the diary into her handbag.

  Nancy glanced at her companion. Mr. Swenson’s face was grim. The police car pulled up alongside the convertible. Nancy’s heart was in her throat, but she tried not to show any agitation.

  The two herdsmen had headed the cows off to the side of the road. Affecting nonchalance, George started to drive off. But a shout from the troopers’ car stopped her.

  “Hold on!” one of the officers cried out. “Pull over!”

  “They were following us,” Bess groaned.

  Quickly Nancy whispered to Joe Swenson, “Don’t worry. We’ll stick by you.”

  The officers had jumped out. They strode up to the convertible.

  “We’ve had a call to pick up this car,” said one, while the other thrust his face through the open rear-door window and peered intently at Mr. Swenson.

  “This is the man!” he declared.

  “What do you mean?” Nancy demanded coolly, with as much conviction as she could muster.

  “Are you Joe Swenson?” the trooper barked, ignoring Nancy’s question.

  “Yes.”

  “You are wanted by the Mapleton police for deliberately setting the Raybolt house on fire.”

  At this accusation the girls gasped and Joe Swenson blanched. Then a flush of anger mounted to his cheeks.

  “What nonsense is this? You haven’t a shred of proof. I don’t know anything about the fire. You have the wrong man.”

  “Well, you can explain that at headquarters. You’ll have to come along with us. The less trouble you make, the better it will go for you.”

  One of the troopers flipped a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. Joe Swenson shrank back.

  “Don’t put them on, please! I’ll come without any trouble.”

  “O.K. But don’t try any funny stunts. Climb out and be quick about it!”

  “Just a minute, Officer,” Nancy interposed. “Aren’t you making a mistake? I feel sure Mr. Swenson isn’t the man you’re after. Please let him go free. I’ll be responsible for his appearance in court.”

  Joe Swenson added, “I started working at Baylor Weston’s factory just recently. I don’t mind answering your questions, but if I’m detained in jail, I’ll lose my job.”

  Protest was useless. Joe Swenson gave Nancy a courageous, apologetic smile, and alighted.

  “You girls will have to come along too!” the officer announced. “Drive on ahead, and not too fast! You have some explaining to do too. Don’t try to get away!”

  CHAPTER XV

  Nancy Is Accused

  “THIS is an outrage!” Bess gasped. “You mean we actually must go to police headquarters?”

  “I’m sorry I involved you girls in this,” Joe Swenson murmured. He turned pleadingly to the officers. “It wasn’t their fault. They merely offered me a ride.”

  “They’ll all have to come to headquarters for questioning,” the officer insisted.

  Mr. Swenson w
as escorted to the State Police car. Before the troopers started off, they again cautioned George to drive ahead slowly.

  “For two cents I would step on the gas and try to get away!” she fumed to her companions.

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” Bess said uneasily. “We’re in enough trouble now.”

  “Oh, Bess! I was only kidding,” George retorted.

  The three girls fell into gloomy silence. The prospect of unpleasant notoriety for their families was anything but reassuring. The friends were glad that at least they had been permitted to drive a short way ahead of the police car, for their entry into Mapleton attracted less attention than would otherwise have been the case.

  When they reached headquarters and parked, Nancy warned, “Whatever happens, don’t say anything that will incriminate Joe Swenson!”

  Outside the building, the girls were confronted by the two men they had overheard talking in Stanford.

  “This is our man, all right!” one of them said as the troopers’ car bearing Joe Swenson pulled up. The inventor was hustled out, and into the custody of the men.

  “Trying to help Swenson make a getaway, eh?” the other of the pair accused the girls. “Come along, you three!”

  “Plain-clothes detectives!” Nancy murmured.

  As they went up the steps, George teased, “What would Ned Nickerson think if he could see his Nancy now!”

  “If it comes to the worst, we can call on him.” Nancy smiled. “Before we’re through, you may be glad he is my friend!”

  Inside headquarters, the situation lost all suggestion of humor. Here Nancy and her friends were told by Police Captain Johnson that the detectives had learned at the plant of Joe Swenson’s departure in a car bearing Nancy’s license number. He made no reference to the detectives’ source of information. To the girls’ dismay, the inventor was booked on a charge of arson.

  No charge was placed against them, but the girls were asked a great many questions, and their names and addresses were written down. When Nancy gave hers, significant looks were exchanged among the captain and the detectives, Davil and Rock. After that, the girls were treated less peremptorily.

  But if they had hoped that the name of Drew would release them at once, Nancy and the cousins were disappointed. They were informed that they must submit to further questioning.

  George and Bess were thoroughly frightened and Joe Swenson had become so agitated that he could not speak in a normal tone of voice. Nancy realized that he was in no condition to defend himself. The four were given chairs opposite the two stern-faced detectives and their captain.

  One could have heard a pin drop, the room became so quiet. The officers stared fixedly at Joe Swenson, who squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Suddenly Detective Davil pointed an accusing finger, and his voice rasped out so sharply that Nancy jumped.

  “Swenson, when did you first plot the death of Felix Raybolt?”

  “When did I—I don’t know what you mean,” Mr. Swenson stammered.

  The keen glance of his questioner did not waver.

  “You know well enough what I mean. It won’t do you any good to try to lie. You were seen near the Raybolt estate on the day of the fire.”

  “Who says I was there?” Swenson demanded. “You’re accusing me because you can’t find the real criminal!”

  His shot went home, for the detective blinked, briefly nonplused. But he went on, “You were seen by the railroad station agent, and as soon as he identifies you, we’ll have you behind bars. Now out with your story! It will go easier for you if you make a complete confession.”

  “There’s nothing to confess,” Swenson returned bitterly. “I did go to the Raybolt estate—”

  Nancy’s heart began to pound. Was the inventor going to confess something he had not told her?

  “So!” his questioner cried triumphantly. “Then you admit going to the house!”

  “I’ve admitted nothing damaging!” Swenson retorted hotly. “I went to the house because I had an appointment with Felix Raybolt.”

  Nancy was sure now that Swenson intended to make a clean breast of everything; and while admiring his honesty, she realized that he was apt to make his case appear worse than it might be. She longed to warn him to remain silent until he could consult a lawyer.

  Bess and George sat transfixed.

  “So you had an appointment with Raybolt, eh?” Detective Rock took up the questioning. “What kind of appointment?”

  “He had a patent of mine and I wanted him to make a settlement.”

  “Raybolt owed you money?”

  “Yes. He stole my invention. I wanted either the money, or my drawings back.”

  “What did Raybolt say?”

  “I never saw him. There were no lights in the house. He didn’t answer the bell. Then there was an explosion and I ran away.”

  “You knew he was in the house and you didn’t try to save him?” the captain interjected.

  “I don’t believe he was in the house!”

  “When did you last see Raybolt?”

  “In a restaurant here in town.”

  “I see,” Detective Davil observed with satisfaction. “You had an argument, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Swenson admitted unwillingly, “we did have hot words.”

  “Which ended in a threat from you,” the officer concluded.

  Joe Swenson shook his head vehemently. “No, I swear it! I’ll tell you everything—right from the very beginning. Raybolt seemed uneasy, as though he were afraid I’d attempt physical violence—he had a guilty conscience, all right!”

  “You argued about the invention?”

  “Yes. He admitted he had deliberately stolen my ideas, but he defied me to prove anything. That made me angry.”

  “You threatened him?”

  “I told him I would take the matter to court. Of course I didn’t have any money to engage a lawyer, but my bluff frightened Raybolt and he told me to come to the house where we could talk privately.”

  “What do you think caused the fire?” the captain asked.

  “The explosion—which nearly knocked me off my feet. I was sort of dazed for several minutes—”

  “What happened next?”

  “It came over me that if I were found near the place I might be accused of causing the fire. When I heard a car coming up the driveway, I decided to make a getaway. I scrambled through the hedge and ran into the woods.”

  “You’re sure you didn’t leave Raybolt inside on purpose?” Detective Rock asked.

  “A thousand times, no!” Mr. Swenson cried out indignantly. “I hated that man, I’ll admit, but I didn’t plot his death.”

  “Why didn’t you tell your story right away?”

  “I was afraid it would be misinterpreted. I had no idea Raybolt was missing until I read it in the newspaper.”

  The three officials took turns questioning Swenson. They quizzed him about details and time but were unable to confuse him.

  Nancy was certain that the inventor’s account was true, yet she had to acknowledge that the story sounded somewhat implausible. The fact remained that Felix Raybolt was missing and that Joe Swenson was the last person known to have an appointment with him.

  Nevertheless, the inventor’s straightforward manner had impressed the officers, and Nancy thought they were on the verge of letting him go. Felix Raybolt had been generally disliked, and it was common knowledge that he had made his fortune by ruthlessly adopting the ideas of various inventors.

  The three officials held a whispered conference, then began questioning Nancy and her friends. The girls told no more than was necessary, with Nancy stressing the story of the inventor’s lost letters and the thieving mail clerk. She put in a good word for Mr. Swenson at every opportunity, and it was apparent that she was creating a favorable impression.

  The unpleasant session was drawing to a close, with every prospect of vindication for Joe Swenson, when there was a knock at the door.

  An officer entered, a
ddressing himself to his superior. “Mrs. Raybolt is here now. Shall I send her in?”

  As an affirmative answer was given, Nancy ex changed despairing glances with her friends. She sensed that since Mrs. Raybolt had set the detectives on Joe Swenson’s trail, the woman would create a scene. “I’m sure she’ll do all in her power to damage his case,” Nancy thought.

  Her premonition was correct. Mrs. Raybolt’s very appearance aroused the sympathy of the officials. The woman evidently had worried herself into a state bordering on nervous collapse and the sight of Joe Swenson made her distraught.

  “Can you identify him?” the police captain asked.

  Mrs. Raybolt stopped sobbing long enough to take her first good look at the prisoner. Nancy, who was watching her closely, saw uncertainty flash over her face. The young detective was convinced the woman had never seen Mr. Swenson before in her life!

  Mrs. Raybolt hesitated only an instant, then cried hysterically, “Yes, I’m sure this is the man my husband went to meet—Felix feared him. He is a heartless criminal who deliberately burned my home and plotted my husband’s death!”

  She burst into tears again and an officer led her from the room. However, the damage had been done. If the three officials had ever seriously considered freeing Swenson, the decision was instantly changed.

  “You girls are free to go,” the captain told Nancy and her friends. “If we need you again, we’ll summon you.”

  “What about Mr. Swenson?” Nancy inquired hopefully.

  “We’ll have to lock him up. Sorry if he’s a friend of yours. His story may be on the level, but he’ll have to prove it.”

  There was nothing more to be said. Joe Swenson thanked Nancy for her interest in his case.

  “You’re the only real friend I have,” he said unhappily. “I’ve told them the truth, but they won’t believe me.”

  “If you only had a witness!” Nancy murmured. “Someone who saw you at the door.”

  “No one was around,” Mr. Swenson returned gloomily. “The place was deserted.”

  “Don’t give up hope,” Nancy said encouragingly. “I’ll find a lawyer for you. And I’ll bring your wife and Honey to see you, too.”