Read The Clue in the Diary Online
Authors: Carolyn G. Keene
The Clue in the Diary (5 page)
“What happened?” Nancy asked a woman who was standing near the door of the shop. “Was someone hurt?”
“It was Mr. Peterson. He had a relapse, and the doctor ordered him to the hospital. Expect he’ll be there a few days.”
“How dreadful!” said Bess. “But, Nancy, what will you do about the diary now?”
Nancy, mainly concerned about the kindly baker, did not answer immediately. Finally she suggested they ask the baker’s assistant if she knew of anyone who understood Swedish.
The woman gladly called several people, but none were at home. Nancy even phoned her father to see if he could recommend someone. But Mr. Drew was not at his office.
The girls were a little discouraged, but Nancy said, “We can still work on the mystery. My car should be finished by this time. If it is, we can drive over and visit Honey and her mother.”
“That’s a swell idea!” Bess and George chorused.
When they reached the garage, the girls were overjoyed to find the convertible ready. “Looks almost as good as new!” Nancy said, pleased. “I’ll write a check for the amount.”
To her chagrin, she had forgotten her checkbook.
“That’s all right,” the mechanic said. “I’m very busy, anyhow. I’ll make out the bill later and drop it off at your home.”
“Fine,” Nancy said with a smile. Then she and the cousins phoned their homes from an outside booth to report their destination. A few minutes later they set off on the highway for Sandy Creek.
Nancy slowed as she drove past the Raybolt estate. The girls glanced at the charred ruins of the once-beautiful mansion.
“I wish we had time to stop and talk to the men investigating the cause of the fire,” Nancy said. “But we’d better get to the Swensons’ first.”
About ten miles farther on, Nancy came to a sawhorse across the road. “Detour!” George groaned. “It must’ve been put up yesterday.”
“It isn’t very long,” Bess declared optimistically. “I can see the end of it.”
The road had been closed to permit the construction of a new steel bridge. The bypass wound down into a valley, crossing the Muskoka River a quarter of a mile south.
“We’ll lose time on this dirt road,” Nancy remarked, turning into the detour. “Poor car! It’ll be lucky to get through without jolting to pieces.”
The road was ungraded and recent rains had left it rutty. In addition, it was narrow, with hardly any places wide enough for two cars to pass. Even though Nancy drove slowly, the ride was a bumpy one.
“Good way to break a spring—on a road like this!” she declared.
“Or a bone!” Bess added wryly.
A moment later the girls became aware of a loud, insistent honking behind them.
“Big truck right in back of you, Nancy,” George observed.
“I know. Well, the driver will just have to wait. He can’t pass me on this narrow stretch.”
But the blowing of the truck’s horn continued until Nancy became irritated, then indignant.
“What is the matter with that man?” Nancy increased her speed, hoping to leave the impatient driver behind. But he speeded up, keeping close to the convertible. Honk!
Honk!
Honk!
Honk!
“If he doesn’t s-stop that, I’ll s-scream!” Bess complained. “And if we g-go any faster, I’ll l-lose all my teeth.”
The convertible was now bumping up and down unmercifully. George turned around in her seat to glare at the horn-blowing driver. “Don’t give him an inch!” she told Nancy.
“Wouldn’t do him any good if I did. His truck’s too big to pass, and I’m certainly not going into a ditch to let him get by! He’ll have to wait until we reach the end of this detour!”
“What’s his big hurry, anyhow?” George grumbled. “Probably just trying to make us nervous.”
“Well, he’s certainly succeeding so far as I’m concerned,” Bess said.
Just then the girls came within sight of a wooden bridge—the end of the torturous road.
“Thank goodness!” Bess cried.
With the truck still bearing down on the convertible, Nancy drove onto the bridge.
“It doesn’t look very safe,” Bess remarked uneasily. “No wonder they’re building a new bridge.”
“It doesn’t sound safe, either!” George cried out as the loose planks creaked alarmingly under the weight of the car. “If that truck tries to pass us, we’ll all crash through!”
But at that moment the girls heard the heavy truck clatter onto the wooden planks. “He’s crazy!” George exclaimed. “This bridge will never hold us both!”
The words were barely out of her mouth when there came a cracking, splintering sound.
“Nancy!” Bess shrieked. “Look out!”
CHAPTER VI
Nancy’s Strategy
AT BESS’S warning, Nancy glanced at the rear-view mirror and saw that the driver of the heavy truck did indeed intend to pass her! There was only one way for her to avert an accident: take her car full speed ahead.
“Here goes!” she cried out, and the convertible shot forward.
The three girls held their breaths, praying that the bridge would be strong enough to hold both vehicles. The old bridge creaked and groaned but held up despite a plank cracked by the truck.
Nancy had barely reached the far end when the truck sped past her at an alarming rate. It grazed her car and tore off part of the bridge railing. The driver rushed on pell-mell.
“That fellow’s a madman!” George exclaimed angrily. “He should be arrested for reckless driving!”
“I wish I had taken his license number so we could report him to the police!” Bess added.
Nancy sighed. “At this point I’m just glad my car doesn’t have to go into the repair shop again! I have a lot of work to do trying to solve the mystery of the Raybolt fire.”
As the girls drove on toward Sandy Creek, they finally forgot their indignation. When they reached the town, Nancy asked a policeman for directions. Following these, she arrived at a section near the river where small houses were crowded together. Bess and George carefully scanned the weather-worn cottages, searching for one with the name “Riverwood.”
Bess caught sight of it first. “I see Honey out front!” she said eagerly. “Look! Isn’t she sweet?”
As Nancy halted the car before the old house, she saw that the child had fallen asleep under a tree. A large dog lay at her feet as though on guard. At the girls’ approach he jumped up and growled.
Nancy and her friends scarcely knew whether to advance or retreat, for the dog looked vicious and seemed determined to protect his tiny charge from the strangers. As they were hesitating, the child awoke. She recognized the girls at once, and scrambling up from the grass, ran toward them.
Despite her faded play suit and badly scuffed shoes, Honey was an attractive youngster. Her real name was Helen Ebba Swenson, but she had always been called Honey because of her sweet disposition. Her eyes were a bright blue, her fair skin was dotted with brown freckles, and her golden hair curled in a hundred ringlets.
“Hello, Honey,” Nancy greeted her. “Is your mother at home?”
The child shook her head. “Mommy’s gone to the post office to get a letter from Daddy. I wanted to go, but she said it was too far for me to walk.”
“Isn’t your father at home?” Nancy inquired softly.
“Oh, no,” Honey replied in her most grown-up manner. “He’s been gone a long time. Mommy’s worried. That’s why she went to the post office today.”
Nancy and her friends exchanged quick glances. Mrs. Swenson apparently still was awaiting word from her husband.
“Mommy’ll be coming home soon,” Honey went on, “‘cause it’s suppertime. I’m hungry, too.”
With a pang Nancy saw that the youngster looked thinner than ever.
“Mommy said if she could sell some of the eggs from our hens, she’d bring me something good to eat. I’m tired of eggs. We eat them all the time since Daddy left.”
“Haven’t you anything else?” George asked bluntly.
“We have a little bread. Mommy says we must make our money last until we hear from Daddy. She doesn’t know where he went and she cries a lot.”
Honey went on to tell the girls about her dog, Hans. “Daddy and I used to take him walking. Hans misses Daddy same as I do. Nancy, let’s all go in the house. I want to show you my toys Daddy made.”
Honey led the way inside. The living room was neat and smelled fresh and clean. There was little furniture, one very small rug, and no draperies at the windows. Nancy’s eye was attracted to a photograph that stood on a small table.
“Whose picture is that?” she asked Honey.
“My daddy!” Honey answered proudly.
Nancy’s heart sank. It was a photograph of the stranger she had seen running away from the fire!
“Oh, dear!” she thought. “This is the worst situation I’ve ever been in!”
By this time Honey had brought out her toys from a cupboard. All were homemade, and several were mechanical, each one cleverly fashioned.
“My daddy’s an in-ven-tor.” The little girl had trouble pronouncing the word. “That’s why he went away—to get back one of his in-ven-tions.”
Nancy, Bess, and George looked at one another horrified. The same thoughts raced through their minds. Mr. Swenson an inventor! The Swedish diary Nancy had found at the scene of the fire! Mr. Raybolt’s broken promises to inventors!
Bess, to hide tears that were gathering, walked into the kitchen. On impulse she opened the refrigerator and cupboards. They were practically empty. She came back and whispered to the others.
“Something must be done,” Bess declared. “Why, Honey and her mother haven’t enough to keep them from starving.”
“It’s up to us,” Nancy announced firmly. “I have an idea! We’ll all eat supper here!”
As George and Bess looked puzzled, Nancy hastily explained her plan. She would drive to Sandy Creek, pick up Honey’s mother, and purchase enough food for supper.
“We’ll have a regular feast,” she promised. “How much money do you girls have with you?”
“Two dollars and ten cents,” Bess said, opening her purse.
“I have only one dollar with me,” George announced apologetically.
“With what I have that will be enough,” Nancy said briskly. “I’ll pay you both back when we get home.”
“No you won’t,” George protested. “We’re all in on this.”
“Fine!” Nancy smiled. “You girls stay here with Honey. I’ll hurry back as quickly as I can.”
“Honey’s mother may not like our interfering,” Bess ventured doubtfully.
“I’ll be tactful,” Nancy promised.
Honey followed her to the car, eying Nancy with worshipful eyes.
“I like ice cream,” she ventured with a timid smile.
“I’ll bring some,” Nancy said. “And plenty of other good things. A bone, with meat on it, for Hans, too!”
She drove away swiftly. A quarter mile down the road she caught sight of a woman trudging along dejectedly. Honey’s mother!
Nancy was quick to observe the downcast expression on the woman’s face and guessed that she had received no word from her husband. Undoubtedly Mrs. Swenson had hoped that he would send money so that she might purchase food.
“Poor thing!” Nancy thought. “I don’t believe I can ever bring myself to tell her about the diary. If her husband has done wrong, it will break her heart.”
Pulling over to the side of the road, she called a cheery greeting. Mrs. Swenson started in surprise as she recognized Nancy.
“Won’t you let me drive you home?” Nancy asked her.
“But you’re going in the opposite direction,” Mrs. Swenson protested.
“Oh, that’s perfectly all right,” Nancy replied, as the woman wearily climbed in beside her.
“I’m on my way to town to buy some things,” Nancy explained, “but as soon as I’ve purchased them, I’ll take you straight home. You won’t mind the extra ride, will you?”
“Indeed I won’t.” Mrs. Swenson smiled faintly. “I don’t feel as though I could walk another step. I must get home soon, though, for my little girl hasn’t had her supper.”
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