The Haunted Bridge Read online

  The girls hastened to the hotel’s golf office. They found the tournament chairman talking earnestly with a group of players who were to compete in the day’s finals.

  Betsy Howard, Nancy’s opponent, explained to her, “There seems to be some mix-up. Our match has been postponed until one o’clock.”

  “I’m glad,” said Nancy. “I really prefer to play this afternoon.” Actually the young detective was delighted; she could do some more sleuthing.

  Bess and George suggested that their friend rest in her hotel room while they played tennis, but Nancy told them she had other plans. After they had gone, she drove to the village to interview the postmistress. The woman consented to show her the letters she was holding for Margaret Judson.

  Nancy studied them and thought, “There’s no return address on any of them and they were mailed rather recently from Carrollton.” Nancy knew this was a town not far from the hotel. She noted that much of the handwriting resembled Bartescue’s autograph on her golf ball. “I’m sure he wrote all these letters,” Nancy concluded.

  Nancy’s second stop was at the nearby college town of Andover. At the campus bookstore she asked to see the directory of instructors.

  Rapidly Nancy searched through the list of professors for one whose first name was Mark. She felt highly elated when she came upon an instructor of philosophy named Mark Hilburn. Had she located Miss Judson’s former fiancé? In scanning the rest of the list she discovered another Mark, His last name was Wardell. Was he the one?

  “I guess I’ll have to call on both men,” Nancy decided.

  Professor Hilburn was not in his office. She got his home address but wasted precious minutes trying to find the street.

  Even before she rapped on the door of the neat little brick house Nancy suspected she was at the wrong place. An upset toy wagon on the front lawn gave mute evidence that Mark Hilburn was married. Mrs. Hilburn answered the bell. She proved to be a charming, middle-aged woman with three children.

  “I shouldn’t have troubled you,” Nancy apologized. “The professor for whom I’m searching is single, and I know only his first name, which is Mark.”

  “Then the man you’re looking for is Professor Mark Wardell,” the woman suggested. “He’s single and not more than thirty years old, I judge. He’s the head of our zoology and botany departments.”

  “Can you tell me where he lives?” Nancy asked eagerly.

  “His home is at 16 Hyman Street, and he has a housekeeper.”

  Ten minutes later Nancy rang the bell at the Wardell house. She was admitted by a pleasant woman.

  “Professor Wardell isn’t here just now,” she replied to Nancy’s inquiry. “Sometimes he comes home to lunch, but I never can be certain. He usually takes a hike in the woods. The professor is deeply interested in nature lore.”

  Nancy was disappointed but decided to take the woman into her confidence. She mentioned that she was trying to locate a man who was an acquaintance of Margaret Judson.

  “Oh, dear me, they were more than mere acquaintances!” the housekeeper replied quickly. “Professor Wardell and Miss Judson were engaged. But no wedding took place. He hasn’t seemed himself since.”

  Nancy was now convinced that Mark Wardell was the person with whom she must talk if she expected to solve the mystery surrounding Margaret Judson.

  “Will you please give Professor Wardell an important message,” she requested and took a piece of paper from her purse. After writing her name and the address of her hotel on it, she handed over the notation.

  “Ask him to see me at this address as soon as he can. It’s extremely urgent.”

  “I’ll be glad to. Are you a student here?” the woman asked.

  “No.”

  On the way back to Deer Mountain Hotel, Nancy reflected that her morning had certainly been profitable. She thought, “It’s rather a coincidence that both Professor Wardell and Mr. Haley are interested in botany and zoology. Is there a connection between the men?”

  By the time she arrived at the hotel, Nancy barely had time to snatch a sandwich before she was due to appear at the first tee. Bess, George, Ned, and Mr. Drew were on hand to witness the start of the match, and smiled encouragingly as Nancy stood quietly awaiting her turn to drive off.

  “Bring home the silver loving cup!” George urged in a whisper. “We’ll be pulling for you!”

  Betsy Howard, a well-known golfer, had turned in a score of seventy for her semifinal match, which was better than Nancy had ever made. The young detective knew that if she expected to win, she would have to turn in the best score of her life. Nancy feared that with her hand paining her, she might not even be able to play as well as usual.

  “I’ll do the best I can,” she determined. “Win or lose, I’ll accept the decision gracefully.”

  Miss Howard made a long drive from the tee. Nancy’s ball did not go as far, but ended up in perfect position. When they reached the green, both putted well and the score was even.

  The second and third holes were tied also. At the fourth hole Nancy gained the advantage when Miss Howard’s ball lodged in a bunker, but the fifth hole found them even again. They played through the sixth and seventh, fighting for the lead.

  So absorbed were both girls in their game that they scarcely noticed how overcast the sky had become. Black clouds rolled swiftly up from the west, blotting out the sun.

  The ninth hole, marking the halfway point of the match, left the girls still even. Betsy Howard seemed as fresh as ever, and on the tenth tee drove out a ball which easily went two hundred and twenty yards.

  “A beautiful drive,” Nancy praised her as she stepped forward to take her turn.

  She swung with all her strength, connecting squarely with the ball, but at the same instant a severe pain shot through her injured hand. Nancy was suffering intensely, and it was all she could do to grip the club. As a result, her next shot was a dismal failure.

  Quick to seize an advantage, Betsy Howard took the hole easily. The eleventh also fell to her. Nancy, two down, feared the match was lost.

  “I can’t give up,” she said to herself grimly.

  As the girls teed off at the twelfth hole, a few drops of rain spattered their faces. Betsy Howard glanced anxiously at the sky.

  “It looks like a hard rain coming,” she declared nervously. “I’m afraid of thunderstorms.”

  By the time the two reached the twelfth green, it was raining steadily. In trying to hurry, Betsy Howard missed her putt and the hole went to Nancy, leaving her now only one down. She must make up that point!

  The thirteenth and fourteenth, played in a drenching downpour, were halved, leaving the score the same as before. By this time a rough wind had sprung up.

  “This is terrible!” Betsy exclaimed. “Surely the committee can’t expect us to finish our match in this kind of weather.”

  She hesitated a moment, then abruptly handed her driver to the caddy.

  “I’m going back to the hotel,” she announced. “If the committee says we may continue the match tomorrow, fine. If not, then I’ll default.”

  “No, we’ll stop play by mutual agreement,” Nancy replied. “No one would blame us for failing to finish under these conditions.”

  The rain began to fall in torrents. Betsy Howard, followed by the two caddies, ran as fast as she could toward the hotel. Nancy darted into the woods, and there, partly protected by the trees, made up her mind that the Haley cabin was closer than any other shelter.

  The wind was rising steadily. As she ran through the woods, the tree boughs crashed together overhead. Near the haunted bridge, Nancy was startled to hear the same moaning and groaning sounds which the girls had noticed on their other visits. Then came a scream.

  “That scream is from Mr. Haley’s lion,” she thought, “but what can be causing the other noises?”

  Nancy approached the sagging bridge where the old scarecrow, wet and tattered, was dancing wildly in the wind. It seemed more ghostlike than ever. As the you
ng sleuth hurried past, the spindly “arms” entwined themselves about her. But she shook herself free.

  The bridge swayed in the wind. As Nancy reached midstream, it suddenly creaked. The underpinning had been torn awayl

  As the structure swung around, Nancy clutched the railing for support, but the decayed wood gave way. She was plunged forward into the turbulent waters of the swollen creek!

  The current was swift. Before Nancy could battle her way to shore she found herself carried far beyond the place where the haunted bridge had stood. Her clothes were muddy and torn. She pulled herself out onto the slippery bank and sat there for a moment in the rain, trying to regain her breath.

  “Bess warned me I’d get into trouble if I insisted upon coming here,” she said to herself. “The old bridge had the last laugh.”

  Nancy’s clothes were thoroughly soaked and her hair was plastered tightly against her head. She scrambled up the bank and followed the ravine trail to the cabin. Her firm knock brought Ned to the door.

  “Why, Nancy, what happened to you?” he cried in astonishment. “I thought you were playing your golf match—”

  Nancy grinned. “I was, but I decided to drop in for a moment and borrow an umbrella. Did you hear a loud crash a few minutes ago?”

  “Yes, it sounded as if the bridge went down.”

  “It did. And I went with it. You should have seen me sailing down the ravine!”

  An expression of concern remained on Ned’s face in spite of the girl’s bantering tone. “Your hand, Nancy!” he exclaimed. ”You’ve hurt it again!”

  Nancy was plunged into the turbulent stream!

  “It is swollen,” she admitted. “But it’ll be all right to finish the golf match tomorrow. We stopped because of the heavy rain.”

  Suddenly a thought came to Nancy. “Ned, I’m surprised to find you here. I thought you intended to stay at the hotel until the end of the golf match.”

  “I meant to, but just after you teed off, Burt came to tell me I was needed here again.”

  “Is Mr. Haley worse?” Nancy asked anxiously.

  CHAPTER XIV

  Surprise Visitor

  “MR. HALEY has been very restless,” Ned reported. “Burt and Dave are outside now trying to look after the mountain lion. I should be helping them.”

  “I’ll stay here with Mr. Haley,” Nancy said quickly. “You go ahead.”

  Before Ned could protest she had moved quietly to the adjoining bedroom. The patient was sleeping peacefully.

  After Ned had donned a raincoat and left the cabin, Nancy tiptoed to a closet in search of warm garments. The only apparel available were a pair of slacks and an old blue shirt.

  While she was hanging her own wet clothes by a lighted oil stove to dry she heard Mr. Haley tossing and hastened back to him. The man’s eyes were wide open.

  “Who are you?” he asked in a whisper.

  “I am Nancy Drew, and I have come to help you.”

  She tried to explain the situation to him but Mr. Haley was too restless to listen. He raised himself on an elbow, motioning her to assist him from the bed.

  “No, you must remain quiet,” Nancy told him firmly. “You must not get up until the doctor says you may.”

  “But I have to! My lion will starve. How long have I been ill?”

  “Now don’t get excited,” Nancy said soothingly. “Everything is all right. Your lion is being cared for by friends of mine. Just lie back and try to rest.”

  Presently Mr. Haley fell into a peaceful sleep. By the time Ned and the others came in, Nancy was able to report that she considered the patient well on the road to recovery.

  “That’s good news,” Ned said in obvious relief. “By the way, you look great in Mr. Haley’s clothes.”

  “I’ll bet I do.” She laughed.

  As the storm subsided, the boys listened eagerly to her account of the day’s golf match. Ned cheered Nancy by saying he was sure she would win the tournament. The other boys agreed.

  After the rain ceased, Ned set off for the ravine with Burt and Dave to take a look at the fallen bridge. They found that it had floated some distance downstream and was lodged against an old log. They returned to the cabin for ropes and tools, saying they were going to try and pull the structure back into place and anchor it securely.

  During the boys’ absence Nancy donned her own clothes. Then, thoroughly worn out from her strenuous day, she sat down in a chair beside Mr. Haley and fell asleep.

  She was awakened by a knock on the door and rose to open it. Before her stood a tall, handsome man who appeared to be about thirty years of age.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said politely. “Is Mr. Haley at home?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure he can see a visitor,” Nancy replied. “He was injured in an accident and is in bed.”

  “Oh, who are you?” the stranger asked in alarm. “I had no idea anything was wrong here or I’d have come before this. Mr. Haley isn’t in grave danger, is he?”

  “He’s recovering now.”

  “That’s good,” the caller said in relief. “Do you think I might see him? My name is Wardell and Mr. Haley is my uncle.”

  Nancy was taken completely by surprise. Recovering quickly, she invited the young man to come inside.

  “Mr. Haley is sleeping now,” she explained, “but when he wakes up he may be able to talk with you.”

  “I’d rather not if you feel it would excite him,” Mr. Wardell said anxiously. “I think the world of my uncle. He practically reared me, and it was through him that I became interested in nature lore.”

  Nancy asked a few polite questions about Mr. Wardell’s work. Although she knew that he was a professor at Andover College, she decided not to mention this immediately or reveal her identity.

  “I came over to Deer Mountain Hotel this afternoon to see a young woman,” he said. “She had requested me to call on an urgent matter. Apparently it couldn’t have been very important, because she wasn’t even there. Since I was near here I thought I’d drop over and see my uncle. Please tell me about the accident.”

  Nancy told him how she and her friends had discovered Mr. Haley. She wanted to bring Margaret Judson’s name into the conversation but to do it as casually as possible.

  “When Mr. Haley was injured, we were afraid he had no living relatives,” she remarked. “There were no family photographs or other clues to their whereabouts. However, I did find a picture here in the cabin of a beautiful girl.”

  Nancy took out the photograph of Margaret Judson and handed it to Professor WardelL He stared at it without speaking. An expression of deep anguish crossed his face.

  “From something Mr. Haley said, I gathered that he knew this girl well,” Nancy remarked. “Do you know her?”

  “Could I ever forget her?” Wardell said with emotion. “Margaret Judson and I were engaged to be married, but—” The man’s voice faltered.

  Nancy watched with quiet sympathy as he fought to regain his composure.

  The professor went on quickly. “I was away on a scientific expedition at the time Margaret’s house was destroyed by fire. Everything in it was lost. to

  “Everything?” Nancy inquired.

  “Well, she did save a chest of jewelry.” Professor Wardell smiled grimly. “Among other things it contained the engagement ring I had given her.”

  “How fortunate!” Nancy murmured.

  “It was anything but fortunate. In her escape Margaret lost the brass chest. She left a note for me at my uncle’s cabin, saying that even though she loved me, she must break our engagement. I couldn’t understand her actions then and I can’t now. Why should she refuse to marry me just because the ring was lost? I’d be only too happy to buy Margaret another one.

  “The ring was valuable, I admit,” he went on, “but I’m sure Margaret knew me well enough to realize I wouldn’t blame her for something that obviously wasn’t her fault. People’s tongues wagged. They said she set the blaze to collect the insurance. That wa
s nonsense, because unfortunately the policy had lapsed. Oh, I hope nothing has happened to her.”

  Nancy was tempted to tell Professor Wardell she believed Miss Judson was in the vicinity of Deer Mountain. But before revealing any information about the young woman, she decided to consult her father.

  “After you’ve visited your uncle a few minutes I want you to come with me to Deer Mountain Hotel,” Nancy said, “and meet my father.”

  “I’ll be delighted to talk with him,” the professor said, “especially since I want to thank him for being so kind to my uncle. I must confess, however, that I don’t know his name or yours either, for that matter.”

  Nancy enjoyed the man’s look of astonishment as she replied with a smile, “I happen to be the girl who asked you to call at Deer Mountain Hotel. My name is Nancy Drew.”

  “You are Nancy Drew?” Professor Wardell exclaimed. “Why did you send for me?”

  “I found something which I think may belong to Margaret Judson,” she replied. “I can’t tell you any more now. You must discuss it first with my father,”

  CHAPTER XV

  Gathering Evidence

  THE professor did not press Nancy for a further explanation. After they had conversed a few more minutes, he asked if he might see Mr. Haley now.

  “Go right in.” Nancy nodded toward the man’s room.

  Mr. Wardell found his uncle still asleep and returned to the living room.

  Presently Ned, Burt, and Dave trudged in, eg hausted by their attempt to repair the bridge. They told Nancy that while they had it anchored, considerable work would have to be done to make the bridge safe.

  “You won’t be able to cross the ravine to return to your hotel,” Ned told her. “I’ll drive you back.”

  “Thanks, Ned, but that won’t be necessary. I want you to meet Professor Wardell.” She pointed toward a dark corner of the room. “He has offered to take me in his car, which is parked at the Judson estate.”