“Obviously you’re right!” Nancy exclaimed. “Prizer is trying to break down Mrs. Hodge’s resistance before offering her a low price for the farm.” The others agreed.
They had found no one hiding in the barn or any of the outbuildings and gave up the search. During the afternoon the group discussed ways to track down the mysterious horse and rider that appeared at the farm.
“It will be bright moonlight tonight,” Nancy spoke up. “Why don’t we take turns standing watch in the barn and see if the phantom animal appears?”
The ghost hunters agreed and drew lots for time periods. Nancy’s group was to be on duty from ten to two. They all took naps directly after supper and then appeared in the barn promptly at ten.
“We didn’t see a thing,” Helen reported as her foursome finished their watch. “Everything quiet.” She laughed. “I’d like to bet that if there’s going to be any excitement it will come during the time Nancy Drew is here!”
The young detective and her friends settled down to watch. There were the usual sounds of night birds and insects, but nothing else. The young people found it hard to stay awake and kept nudging one another when a head fell forward in sleep.
It was a beautiful night. Stars gleamed brightly and the moon shone brilliantly. Every tree, bush, and building was sharply silhouetted. If anyone should appear, he surely would be seen clearly.
Off in the distance a clock struck the midnight hour. One minute later Bess grabbed Nancy’s arm.
“There it is!” she whispered.
“There it is!” Bess whispered
Emerging from the woods was a white ghostlike horse. It began to gallop across the field.
As everyone watched tensely, its rider came from among the trees. He was dressed in white riding attire, and ran pell-mell after the horse.
At first the animal came directly toward the barn and the onlookers wondered if he intended to dash inside. They shrank back from the doorway. But a few seconds later the horse veered around and headed toward the woods. The trailing rider turned also and sped after it.
“We must try to catch him!” Nancy exclaimed.
She and the others rushed from the barn and raced across the field. Would they find the animal and the man among the trees or had they gone on farther? By the time the ghost hunters reached the spot where the man and his horse had entered the woods, there was no sign of either.
“They weren’t real! They were phantoms!” Bess said shakily.
Ned dropped to his knees and put his ear to the ground. “Funny,” he said, “I can’t hear the sound of hoofbeats.”
“Of course not,” said Bess. “The horse and rider were spooks!” She recommended that they all go back to the barn until two o’clock and then get some sleep.
Since it seemed impractical to try to follow the horse and rider through the dark woods, the searchers did as Bess suggested. No one else appeared during the rest of the period.
The episode was reported to the next set of watchers. In the morning they reported that nothing had happened during the rest of the night.
“But I wish it had,” Don said in disappointment.
At Sunday breakfast Nancy proposed that the ghost hunters make a search in the woods for clues to the strange horse and rider. All agreed that it was a good idea and set off together.
As they walked through the field leading to the woods, Rita said in a hushed tone, “There are no hoofprints! That means he was a ghost horse!”
“I agree,” said Bess. “Oh dear! I don’t like this.”
Nancy found a series of footprints, however, in exactly the direction the phantom rider had taken from the woods and back again.
“I’ll bet,” said Rita, “that these footprints belong to somebody else. The ghost horse had a phantom rider.”
Following the man’s footprints, the searchers came to a place in the woods where several bushes were broken down.
A moment later George cried out, “I see hoofprints!”
She started to run and soon outdistanced the others.
Suddenly Bess screamed, then cried in terror, “George fell out of sight!”
Seemingly the earth had swallowed her cousin!
CHAPTER XIV
The Shell Clue
HORRIFIED, Nancy and her friends rushed ahead to find out what had happened to George. Had the ghost rider waylaid her?
“George! George! Where are you?” Bess cried frantically.
It did not take them long to find George. She had fallen into a shallow pit covered with brush. Disentangling herself from the twigs and branches, she said sheepishly:
“I sure fell into a trap. Old George doesn’t know whether she’s supposed to be a bear or a rabbit!”
The others laughed and Bess heaved a great sigh of relief. Burt reached down a hand to help George climb out.
“I wonder why someone dug a pit here,” Dave remarked.
“Probably to keep anybody from following the horse,” George declared. “Let’s find the hoofprints and pursue them.”
The group hastened on through the woods. It was easy to follow the marks, but unfortunately they ended at the main road which was macadam and failed to show the prints.
“I guess we’ll have to give up,” Ned remarked. “Too bad.”
Disappointed, the ghost hunters turned around and retraced their steps through the woods.
Dave said he was still puzzled about the horse. “We know that it was real and so was the rider. But why didn’t the animal leave hoofprints in the field?”
Nancy said she had a theory. “I don’t believe that white horse was real. It was probably a tremendous balloon stretched over a mechanical horse which the rider guided by remote control.”
“You mean like the phantom canoe?” George queried.
“Yes. And of course this makes me think that the rider was Wilbur Prizer.”
Burt said he could not understand why the man went to such elaborate, and presumably expensive, means to pull a ghost trick. “Is he some kind of nut?”
“Or a heartless crook,” said Nancy.
When they reached the pit which George had fallen into, Nancy stopped. “I have a hunch we should investigate under the brush in there.”
The boys jumped in and removed the twigs and branches. Then Nancy slid down and began to search. There were many leaves to be cleared away, but finally her efforts were rewarded. She picked up a small shell.
“I wonder if somebody threw this in here,” she said, “or if the digger dropped it from his pocket.”
George remarked, “Another shell! Is anything carved on it?”
As soon as Nancy climbed topside where the light was better, she began to examine the shell.
“Here’s a mark!” she said. “The same as I’ve seen before—MT.”
“That woman must be an avid collector,” Dave remarked. “This shell is pretty.”
It was deep orange and had an interesting curled-over section to form the abode of the snail which had lived inside.
When they reached the guesthouse, Mrs. Hodge asked the ghost hunters if they would like to attend church with her. At once Nancy and Ned said they would be glad to accompany her.
George said, “I’d like to go, too. How much time do we have to get ready? I fell in a hole and I’ll have to take a bath.”
“Oh, you have a half hour,” Mrs. Hodge said.
“I’ll make it,” George said and dashed up the steps two at a time.
Everyone wanted to go and went to their rooms to put on more appropriate clothes than the sports outfits they were wearing. Nancy was ready first and came back downstairs to show Mrs. Hodge the shell.
“Do you know what it is? I love the color of it.”
“No, I don’t,” the woman replied, “but there’s a book on shells in the living-room bookcase. Look on the shelf where the paperbacks are.”
Nancy located the book easily and turned the pages until she found a picture of a shell like the one in her hand.
“There is a large family of shells called Cypraea,” the book stated. “Their common name is cowries. These shells are highly prized by the natives in the Fiji Islands of the Pacific. At one time the chief wore a cowrie as a badge of his office and nobody else was allowed to.”
She read on. From what she learned, Nancy told herself, “This must be a Cypraea aurantium, or golden cowrie.” The article said the shells were so rare that the government had put a ban on the sale of them outside the islands.
“Then there’s no chance of my getting one,” Nancy thought.
At that moment Ned appeared and she told him what the book said about the rare shell.
“I’m sure that whoever lost this one will return to the pit and try to retrieve it. Let’s go back there after dinner and do a little spying,” she suggested.
“I’m game,” he said. “I only hope the person we want to see hasn’t come and gone before we get there.”
Nancy sighed. “I guess we’ll have to take that chance.”
Although she doubted that the Prizers would show up at church, nevertheless at the beginning of the service Nancy looked carefully at each person in the congregation. No one present resembled the Prizers.
Nancy gave full attention to the sermon on the text, Thou shalt not steal. The listeners were reminded that there are many types of stealing besides taking other people’s property. They included stealing another’s time, good reputation, and a person’s happiness. Nancy could not help but think of the Prizers.
When the service was over, she suggested a drive around the small town of Middleburg. “Maybe we can spot something to help us solve the mystery.” But no leads turned up.
“This is certainly a nice, peaceful country town,” Bess remarked. “I hope those awful Prizers don’t come here and upset things.”
Two hours later, when the ghost hunters had finished dinner, Nancy’s group walked back to the pit in the woods. They could see no evidence that anyone had been there.
“Maybe we’re not too late to nab a person coming to look for the shell,” Burt remarked.
The watchers rearranged the brush to look as it had before George tumbled in. Then each chose a tree behind which to hide.
The wait seemed interminable. The boys grew restless and Nancy could see them doing some stretching and jumping exercises.
Presently there came a loud “Ouch!” from Bess and she called to the others, “I got stung!”
George hushed her cousin. “Put some mud on it and for goodness sake keep quiet,” she said. “You’ll ruin our chance of capturing anyone coming here.”
Bess subsided. She was close to a little stream and scooped up a small quantity of mud to plaster the sting on her arm.
Time seemed to pass slowly. Again and again the young people glanced at their wrist watches. Dave was about to call it quits when they heard a sound not far away. Footsteps!
The six spies remained hidden but kept their eyes on the path. A boy about sixteen years old was coming in their direction. He was nice looking and well dressed.
“Surely he isn’t the person we’re searching for,” Nancy told herself.
The boy stopped when he reached the brush-covered hole. He stood looking at it for several seconds, then leaned down and began throwing the twigs and branches aside.
“Someone must have sent him here to get the shell,” Nancy thought.
The hidden watchers had arranged beforehand that if anyone came to the hole, at a signal from Nancy they would surround him. Now she raised her arm and brought it down again.
Moving stealthily, the six young people stepped from hiding and took positions around the boy. They had been so quiet that he was completely unaware of their presence.
He jumped in fright when Ned said to him, “What are you looking for?”
CHAPTER XV
Outwitted
THE startled boy cried out. “I—Who—?” he stammered.
Seeing that he was surrounded, a look of fear came into his eyes. But in a moment he regained his composure.
“I—I’m just searching for rabbits,” the boy answered Ned. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
George spoke up. “Did you expect to find them down in the hole?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Nancy walked up to the boy and looked him straight in the eye. “Are you telling the truth?” she asked. “I have an idea you’re looking for something else.”
“Suppose I am?” he asked.
Nancy decided to take the plunge. “By any chance are you searching for a shell?” she asked.
The boy jumped in astonishment. His bravado vanished. He said in a trembling voice, “How did you know?”
“I found it myself,” she said. “Who owns the shell?”
“I don’t know,” the boy said. “And that’s the truth. My name’s Steve Rover and I live in Middleburg. A tall, thin guy came up to me and asked if I would like to earn a little money.”
When Steve paused, Nancy prompted him. “He offered to pay you to find the shell?”
The boy nodded. “The man didn’t tell me who he was, just said he’d fallen into the hole and hurt his ankle. He couldn’t walk far. That’s why I came.”
“How did you get out here?” Nancy queried.
Steve said the man had driven him to the edge of the woods and he had hiked in from there. “He’s waiting for me. I don’t know what he’ll say when I don’t bring the shell.”
Ned spoke up. “We’ll go with you but stay out of sight. If this fellow is the man we think he is, it would be best if you appear to be alone. But after that don’t have anything to do with him.”
Ned, Burt, and Dave would precede the others and hide, ready to pounce on the man as soon as Steve reached the car. The three girls for reasons of safety were to bring up the rear.
“Also,” Nancy thought, “if we’re all watching him, Steve won’t have any chance to double-cross us by running away.”
Ned and his companions halted at the edge of the highway but kept themselves well screened by the trees. A car stood there but no one was in it. Their eyes roamed the woods on both sides of the road but they saw no one.
“I wonder where the man is,” Ned asked himself.
In a few minutes Steve came sauntering along. Ned surmised that the boy was frightened, but he kept going. Steve walked out to the car, opened the front door, and climbed in. He had barely closed the door and sat down, when he moved over into the driver’s seat.
“That’s funny,” Nancy whispered as she came up to where Ned was hiding.
“Maybe it’s some kind of a trick,” Ned said.
The next moment Steve started the motor. At once he shifted into gear and started down the road.
“Oh no!” cried Bess as she and George joined the group. “He put it over on us!”
At that very second the watchers saw a figure rise up from the floor of the rear seat. The man was tall, slender, and had bushy hair!
“Prizer!” Burt shouted in disgust. “He sure outwitted us.”
“Yes,” Nancy said, “but at least he didn’t retrieve the shell. We’ll give that bit of evidence to the police.”
As the car roared off, the young people made notes of its make, model, and license number.
“It should be easy for the police to pick him up,” Dave remarked.
“Yes,” Burt agreed, “but by the time we can telephone them, Prizer could be far away and have different license plates on the car.”
“What will we do?” George asked.
Nancy suggested that they hike down the road. “At the first house we come to, we’ll ask to use the phone.”
The six young people strode along at a fast pace but continued to talk about the clever way Prizer had eluded them.
“When Steve got in the car,” said Nancy, “I suppose Prizer ordered him to drive away. He probably was told he would be harmed if he didn’t go whizzing off.”
“I wonder if Steve will tell him about us,” Bess said.
“I hope not,” George retorted. “If Prizer finds out we have the shell, he may do something drastic to get it back.”
It was a long, hot walk to the next house. The family who lived there was seated on the lawn. They greeted the group affably and said their name was Sutton.
“You look hot,” Mrs. Sutton spoke up. “Would you like some cool drinks?”
“Thank you. That would be very welcome,” Nancy replied. “But first I’d like to use your telephone to call the police. We saw a rather peculiar incident on the road about a mile from here and we’d like to report it.”
Mrs. Sutton led Nancy into the house and showed Nancy where the telephone was. In the meantime, the woman went to the kitchen and poured six tall glasses of fruit juice and filled a plate with homemade cookies.
When she and Nancy returned to the lawn, the young people sat down on the grass and began to sip the cool drink. Nancy asked the family if they knew Steve Rover in Middleburg.
One of the daughters answered. “I know Steve. He was in high school with me, but he dropped out. He’s okay, but he hates school.”
Mr. Sutton spoke up. “Yes, Barby, and he hates work evidently, from what I hear in town.”
“We have our fingers crossed that he isn’t in any trouble,” Nancy went on. Briefly she told about Steve and the man in the car.
Barby’s eyes widened. “You mean that man might harm Steve? Oh, I hope not!”
“We hope not too,” said Nancy. “But I’m worried.”
The refreshments and few minutes of relaxation restored the hikers’ vigor. Ned asked if by any chance there might be a shortcut back to the Red Barn Guesthouse.
“You’re from that place?” Mrs. Sutton asked. “I hear that ghost horse has started appearing again and nobody will stay there any more.”
“Unfortunately that’s true,” Nancy told her. She smiled. “We hope to solve the mystery because we don’t think it’s really a phantom horse and rider. Probably someone is trying to frighten Mrs. Hodge.”
“But why?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” said Nancy. The young sleuth did not feel that she should say anything about her suspicions that Prizer was trying to get the property at a low price.
Mr. Sutton said, “I wish you luck. Well, about a shortcut. Half a mile farther from here you’ll see a dirt road on your right. Take that and it will bring you out a short distance from the guesthouse. You’ll be able to see it from the road.”
The young people thanked the Suttons for their hospitality and started off. After they had hiked along the dirt road for some distance, Dave began to laugh.
“What’s that old saying about the longest way ‘round is the shortest way home, or is it the shortest way ’round is the longest way home? Anyway, this is the longest shortcut I’ve ever taken.”
The six trudged on, and finally came to the end of the dirt road. As Mr. Sutton had said, they could see the Red Barn Guesthouse in the distance and turned toward it.
They found Mrs. Hodge very upset. It was evident she had been crying. Bess went up to her and put an arm around the woman’s waist.
“Something’s happened! What is it?” Bess asked.
Tearfully Mrs. Hodge replied, “I drove into town to call on a friend right after dinner. When I returned, I found the house had been ransacked!”
CHAPTER XVI
Aim! Fire!
“How dreadful!” Bess exclaimed. “Did the burglar take much?”
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Hodge replied. “I got here only a few minutes ago.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Nancy spoke up. “Weren’t any of our friends at home?”
“No, everyone was out. Oh dear! What shall I do now?”
Nancy told her that the police should be notified immediately. “Would you like me to make the call?”
After reporting the burglary, Nancy and her friends went upstairs to see if the thief had tampered with their luggage. Clothes and cosmetics were strewn about the floor. A quick check indicated that nothing had been taken.
“He must’ve been looking for something special,” George remarked. “Nancy, what do you think it was?”
Nancy shrugged. “Possibly the shell. Prizer may have forced Steve to tell him that we’d found it. I had it well hidden under the lining of my suitcase.”
Bess looked skeptical. “But if he thought we had it, why did he ransack Mrs. Hodge’s possessions?”
“I wish I knew the answer,” said Nancy. “Let’s go downstairs and see if we can help Mrs. Hodge. She’s had so much trouble it doesn’t seem fair for any more to be heaped on her.”
They found the woman in the living room. She looked up, a puzzled expression on her face.
“Nothing much was taken,” she said. “Just a little money and jewelry. I don’t understand it.”
The boys had come into the room and Ned suggested that the burglar was looking for some particular thing of value to him.
“But what could it be?” Mrs. Hodge asked.
“Do you own anything rare and worth a lot of money?” Burt queried.
Mrs. Hodge shook her head. “After my husband’s death, I sold everything of value.”
Nancy gazed thoughtfully around the room. She noticed an old file box on the floor in a corner. It had been opened and the papers rifled.
“Was there anything valuable in there?” Nancy asked.
Suddenly Mrs. Hodge clutched her throat. “Yes. The deed to this property!”
She dropped to her knees and began looking through the papers hurriedly. Nancy knelt beside her to help.
Finally Mrs. Hodge sat down on the floor, looking pathetically forlorn. “It’s gone! The deed to this farm has been stolen!”
“So that’s what the burglar was looking for,” Bess spoke up. “Oh, Mrs. Hodge, I’m dreadfully sorry. What will you do?”
During this conversation Nancy’s thoughts had turned to Wilbur Prizer. She felt sure he had planned the theft. The man, posing as a realtor, intended to use the deed in some way to get the Red Barn.
A few minutes later two police officers arrived. After hearing the story, one remarked, “Stealing a deed is a major offense. Mrs. Hodge, have you any idea who might have done it?”
“No, I haven’t, but Nancy Drew here has.”
When the young detective gave the name of the suspect, the officer who had introduced himself as Lieutenant Sanford said, “Wilbur Prizer is the same person you telephoned us about a few hours ago.”
“That’s right,” Nancy replied. “We think he is personally responsible for the ghostly happenings in certain places so he can force the owner to sell.
“He apparently also steals shell collections and Madame Tarantella is involved. I found a cowrie with her initials on it.” Nancy said she would turn the shell over to him and went to get it.
When she returned Sanford looked at her in amazement. “You’re an amateur detective, aren’t you? Haven’t I read about you in the newspapers?”
Nancy blushed and admitted that some of the mysteries she had solved had been publicized. Quickly changing the subject, she asked:
“Is there any news about Steve Rover and the car he went away in?”
“Yes,” Sanford replied. “The car was found abandoned. It had been stolen. Neither the man you saw nor Steve Rover has been seen.”
Bess caught her breath. “You mean Steve hasn’t returned home?”
The officer said No and his mother was frantic.
“No doubt the man who hired him to look for the shell learned about his meeting you in the woods. At this point that fellow Prizer probably decided it would be too dangerous to let Steve go.”
“I feel so sorry for his mother,” said Bess. “Oh, I hope that horrible Wilbur Prizer doesn’t hurt him.”
The policeman assured the group that every effort was being made to find the boy. The officers agreed that Prizer or one of his pals had come to the Hodge home with a dual purpose: to find the shell which had some special meaning to him and to steal the deed to the property.
The officers spent some time in the farmhouse searching for clues. Nancy watched them, fascinated, and picked up a couple of points which she felt might be useful in her own future investigations.
The two officers made several notes in their report books, but were not able to get any fingerprints or footprints. Sanford remarked, “Evidently the burglar walked around in stocking feet and had gloves on.”
He opened a kit and took out a strong magnifying glass to examine the floor in Mrs. Hodge’s bedroom. Presently he picked up a hair, then a speck of mud.
“The burglar has dark, bushy hair,” he announced. “And he may be staying near a stream where ferns are growing.” The officer looked at Nancy. “I’d say he has a bad temper and stomps his foot hard when he’s mad or frustrated. The fellow crushed fern leaves into the mud on his shoes.”
The policemen got ready to leave. “I’ll let you know what else we find out,” Sanford promised.
Shortly afterward, the other ghost hunters came in and were greatly upset when they heard of Mrs. Hodge’s loss. After checking their own belongings, they reported that nothing had been taken.
There had been so much excitement that supper had been forgotten. The girls offered to prepare the meal. At first Mrs. Hodge protested she could not allow paying guests to do this, but after a little persuasion she consented.
They had just finished eating when the telephone rang. Ned answered it but called Nancy, saying that her father was on the wire.
“How’s everything going?” Mr. Drew asked.
“Never a dull moment,” Nancy replied, and brought him up to date on events connected with the mystery.
Her father said, “You’re certainly having an exciting trip. I just had a telephone call from an acquaintance of mine, Mr. Warfield. He lives at the allegedly haunted mountain inn where you ghost hunters are supposed to go next.
“It’s a strange coincidence,” Mr. Drew went on. “Mr. Warfield of course didn’t know you were coming there. He called me to suggest that you make a trip to the place and solve the mystery.”
Nancy laughed. “I’m flattered,” she said.
“When do you plan to go there?” her father asked.
Nancy said the group had not discussed it yet, but she could see no reason for not going the next day.
“I doubt that the phantom horse will appear again,” she said. “The deed to the farm is a better weapon for Mr. Prizer to frighten Mrs. Hodge into selling.”
“Tell her not to accept any offers,” Mr. Drew advised. “Furthermore, I think that after you leave, Mrs. Hodge should hire a private detective to stay there with her.”
“I’ll tell her,” Nancy replied. She promised to call her father as soon as they arrived at Crag Mountain Inn.
After she had hung up, Nancy told Mrs. Hodge her father’s suggestion about hiring a detective. Then she joined the ghost hunters on the porch to talk over the idea of leaving. All agreed that since the police were working on the case of the Red Barn Guesthouse, there was no reason for them to stay any longer.
Ned said, “I suggest we pull out of here at ten o’clock and have lunch on the way. I could go for a lobster dinner and there’s a restaurant that specializes in it about two hours from here. I suppose we’re in no great hurry to arrive at Crag Mountain.”
“Your idea about a lobster sounds cool,” Burt spoke up. “I vote we stop there.”
In the morning they packed quickly and put the luggage in their cars. Mrs. Hodge said she could not thank Nancy and the others enough for all they had done. “I feel calmer now. In fact, I called my attorney and told him about the stolen deed. He agreed to take care of the matter.”
“That’s good,” said Nancy. All the ghost hunters shook hands with Mrs. Hodge and wished her luck. She in turn thanked them profusely for their help.
After a delicious lobster dinner en route, they arrived at Crag Mountain. The inn was built at the summit and on almost solid rock. Below it was dense woods.
Mr. Warfield, Mr. Drew’s friend, was waiting to greet Nancy and her friends. He was a tall, gray-haired man with a warm smile.
“As soon as you’ve been assigned rooms, I’ll brief you on this interesting old place and its history.”
Half an hour later the ghost hunters assembled in the lobby. Mr. Warfield was waiting for them.
“This inn,” he said, “was once a fortress and housed many prisoners. Legend has it that most of them died from maltreatment. Their ghosts wail and cry out in the dungeons and then escape to the outdoors where they flit around and scare people.”
Bess hunched her shoulders and frowned. It was evident this story was making her nervous.
Nancy asked, “How recently has anyone seen a ghost, Mr. Warfield?”
“Night before last,” he answered. “One of the guests who was seated outside rather late in the evening suddenly rushed into the lobby. He declared he had seen a ragged phantom soldier come through the wall of the basement and stagger around, then disappear among the trees.”
Nancy was suspicious. She asked, “Did only one guest see him?”
“Yes,” Mr. Warfield replied.
Nancy did not express her thoughts aloud but she was convinced it was another hoax. “Is the guest still here?”
Mr. Warfield shook his head. “The man said he wouldn’t stay another day and left early in the morning.”
Nancy had two theories about the story of the apparition. Either a specter had been arranged for the benefit of the guest so he could spread the story and keep people away from the inn, or the man had been a member of Prizer’s gang and had come to plant the untrue story.