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Authors: Carolyn Keene

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BOOK: The Crooked Banister
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“Great!” George replied.
Bess said nothing, but was thinking, “I just knew if I came up here, Nancy would be working on something horrendous.” Aloud she remarked, “We’d better watch our step in that crazy place. Rawley Banister may have cooked up other things besides the robot.”
Nancy spoke of the moat surrounding the house and the story that at times the water in it actually burned.
George laughed. “I don’t believe a word of that legend.”
The girls dressed for dinner and went downstairs to the pleasant dining room. They were able to get a table in a far corner. Nancy had requested that location to avoid any encounter with Clyde Mead. The three had just ordered when to her dismay she saw him coming toward them.
“Good evening,” he said pleasantly and pulled out a chair. “You don’t mind if I eat with you? It’s such a bore having dinner alone. Don’t you agree?”
None of them answered. The waitress took his order, then he began to talk once more about the Indian children he had met.
“Many of them are extremely bright,” he said. “Given half a chance to further their education, they might become brilliant scholars, doctors, or engineers.”
Within a short time Nancy and George became bored with Mr. Mead’s repetitious conversation, but Bess was fascinated by it. She let her dessert go uneaten.
In desperation Nancy changed the subject. “Mr. Mead, have you ever seen or heard of the unusual house near here owned by Mr. Rawley Banister?”
“No, I haven’t. Would you show it to me?”
Nancy was firm in her answer. “I’m sorry but we wouldn’t have any time. We’ll be busy every single minute during our stay in Mountainville.”
When the meal was over, the four walked out of the dining room. Nancy and George led the way. Mr. Mead accompanied Bess, walking a little distance behind the others.
When they reached the lobby, Bess announced that she was going to her room for a minute. “Where shall I meet you girls?”
George replied, “In the gift shop.”
She had chosen this place thinking Clyde Mead would not follow her and Nancy. She was right. He walked off in another direction.
Nancy and George went into the shop and wandered around. It was nearly fifteen minutes later when Bess joined them.
“Sorry I took so long,” she said.
George grinned. “I thought maybe you’d gone off to some Indian reservation with Mr. Clyde Mead.”
Bess made a wry face at her cousin, then asked, “Have you bought anything?”
“Not yet,” George replied. “You’re the big shopper of this threesome.”
“Well, tonight I’m not,” Bess replied.
George asked if Bess felt ill.
“Of course not,” she said. “To tell the truth, I can’t get those poor Indian children out of my mind.”
George looked at her cousin sternly. “Forget that man and his Indians! How do we know he’s on the level?”
Bess did not reply. She waited patiently while Nancy and George bought neckties as gifts for their fathers. Then the three went to their room.
At once Nancy said, “Want to see a real clue I picked up here last night in connection with the mystery?”
“Sure do,” George replied. Bess said nothing.
Nancy opened a dresser drawer and took out two taper matches. Holding one in each hand, she measured them, turned and twisted each, and finally said, “They’re identical!”
George commented, “Okay, they’re identical. Just what does that mean?”
“I found one near the fire. The other is from Rawley Banister’s house,” Nancy replied. “It’s possible he brought some matches from his home and used them to set the fires in the rooms Dad and Mrs. Melody and I had, but lost one in a crack on the balcony.” Bess and George gasped in astonishment.
Just then the telephone rang. Nancy picked it up.
A man at the other end asked, “Miss Drew?”
“Yes.”
The deep voice continued, “This is Mr. Banister!”
CHAPTER V
The Attack
WHEN the speaker said he was Mr. Banister, Nancy caught her breath. Was this the man she and many others were trying to locate?
Her heart pounded as she said, “Yes, Mr. Banister.”
The caller went on, “I’m Thomas Banister, a brother to Rawley.”
With a sigh Nancy relaxed. Bess and George, having seen their friend’s sudden change of expression, wondered who was telephoning.
Mr. Banister said, “I understand your father is trying to locate my brother. That’s true, isn’t it?”
“I believe so,” Nancy replied guardedly.
“Well, listen,” the caller went on, “you give this message to your father. I didn’t know where to phone him. That’s why I called you. Tell him that he’s to stop work on the search at once!”
“Stop work—?”
“That’s what I said. This whole thing is a family matter and will be taken care of by us. We don’t need any other help. Is that clear?”
“Quite.”
Mr. Banister stated that he did not want to discuss the case further. “Drop it! Tell your father we’re sorry to have caused any inconvenience.” The caller hung up.
Nancy sat staring at the ceiling. She thought, “The end of a beautiful mystery for me!”
She turned to Bess and George and relayed the conversation. George knew how disappointed Nancy was and refrained from making any comment.
Bess said with relief, “It’s probably better this way. I’m sure, Nancy, that you would have ended up with some horrible thing happening to you.”
Without replying, Nancy dialed the Drew home. Her father was there and she told him about Thomas Banister’s message.
“I’m amazed,” Mr. Drew said. “Mrs. Carrier seemed so eager to have us work on the mystery.”
“What shall we do?” Nancy asked.
After a moment’s pause her father said, “It was Mr. and Mrs. Melody who engaged me to take on this case. Suppose you phone Mr. Banister and remind him of this. See what he says and then we’ll decide upon our next move. Call me back.”
Nancy looked up Thomas Banister’s number in the directory. As she was about to dial it, the thought suddenly occurred to her that perhaps Thomas Banister had not telephoned. Someone else might have used his name!
She put in the call. A man’s voice said, “Hello?”
Nancy asked, “Is this Mr. Thomas Banister?”
“Yes.”
“This is Nancy Drew. I’m at the motel. Did you phone me a little while ago?”
“Why no,” he replied. “My sister has told me about you. I hope we’ll meet soon!”
Nancy told him that someone using his name had telephoned and said her father was to give up the case at once. “He sounded exactly like you,” she finished.
The young sleuth could hear a deep sigh at the other end of the line. “It must have been my brother Rawley. Did he say where he was calling from?”
“No, he didn’t, Mr. Banister. Then, since you didn’t phone,” Nancy went on, “you and Mrs. Carrier do want Dad and me to keep on trying to find your brother?”
“Indeed we do. Rawley must make amends. Personally I know nothing about his private affairs. It’s my guess, from what my sister tells me, he may have money or valuables stowed away which would take care of all his debts.”
Nancy asked Thomas if he had any idea how Rawley had found out the Drews were on the case.
“No, I haven’t,” he replied.
After saying good-by, Nancy told Bess and George what Thomas Banister had said, then phoned her father. He too suspected that the call had been made by Rawley. Mr. Drew said he would try to have the call traced, but doubted that this would be possible.
Next Nancy telephoned Mrs. Carrier to see if she and the electrician were going out to Rawley’s house the following morning.
“Yes,” the woman replied. “And I’m eager to meet Bess and George. Will you pick me up at ten o’clock?” she asked. “Mr. Glassboro, the electrician, will follow in his truck.”
When the group reached Rawley’s house the next morning, they led Mr. Glassboro to the kitchen and showed him the broken robot.
“Well, that’s something!” he exclaimed. “This is a queer house all right and old Robby here just fits in.”
“Do you think you can fix him?” Mrs. Carrier asked.
Mr. Glassboro stood the five-foot-tall robot up on its wheeled feet and flashed a light inside. “Humph! There are a lot of broken wires and this tape in here snapped. That’s what caused the explosion. When he fell over, his head rolled off.”
Nancy showed him the drawer where there were many other tapes.
“Mrs. Carrier, I think I can mend this old fellow—at least, I’ll do my best. And splice the broken tape, too.”
The others decided to leave the electrician alone and went to the front hall. Mrs. Carrier suggested she and the girls go through Rawley’s personal belongings on the second floor.
Nancy agreed it was a good idea. “Maybe we’ll find a useful clue,” she added.
They climbed the crooked staircase and started their search. The closets contained the usual assortment of clothing, shoes, and sports equipment. There was nothing to indicate that Rawley had strange taste in wearing apparel.
“Apparently he didn’t take much with him,” Bess remarked. “Not an empty hanger in the place.”
In the meantime Mrs. Carrier looked in the pockets of Rawley’s clothing. She did not find anything in them and began to rummage through the dresser drawers.
“These are filled with so much stuff it will take forever to go through them,” she announced. “It would save time if you girls check the two chests in Rawley’s study.”
Bess and George offered to do this while Nancy went downstairs to see how the electrician was progressing. As she neared the kitchen, Nancy thought it strange she did not hear a sound.
“Probably Mr. Glassboro is doing some delicate manipulating with the wires,” she murmured.
Nancy swung open the door to the kitchen and then stepped back, shocked. The electrician lay on the floor unconscious! Not far from him stood the robot, its head back on.
“Oh, Mr. Glassboro!” Nancy cried out.
She ran to assist him. As she was about to bend down, a whirring sound started inside the mechanical man and she turned to face him. The next moment the figure raised his two arms and clasped them tightly about Nancy. He began to squeeze her hard.
“Help!” Nancy screamed. “Help!” Then she blacked out.
Upstairs Bess and George heard the cry. “Nancy’s in trouble!” Bess exclaimed.
The two girls scurried down the crooked stairway and into the kitchen. Their friend was draped over one arm of the robot.
“We must get her loose!” George said urgently. “Bess, pull one of his arms. I’ll yank the other.” But neither limb would budge.
“What’ll we do?” Bess wailed. “There’s only one thing to do,” George replied. “Apparently the tape that set off the robot is still running. We must stop it!”
“Help!” Nancy screamed. “Help!”
She looked around the kitchen at the scattered tools the electrician had been using. Seeing nothing heavy enough, she opened his workbag. Inside was a large wrench. George pulled it out and whacked the robot on the neck again and again.
Finally the whirring stopped. The arms of the mechanical man fell to his sides and he dropped to the floor. Nancy sagged into Bess’s arms. Gently her friends placed her on the floor.
“The robot must have done the same thing to Mr. Glassboro,” George said. “Quick! Get some ice!”
Bess dashed across the room to the refrigerator and soon was putting cold cloths on Nancy’s head and chafing her wrists. George was doing the same to the electrician. In a few minutes both revived. They blinked their eyes and looked gratefully at Bess and George.
“What happened?” George asked.
Mr. Glassboro said that he had repaired the robot and wanted to find out if he worked. The electrician had taken a tape at random from the drawer and inserted it. “Robby had hardly started whirring when one of his arms moved up and gave me the neatest uppercut I’ve ever seen. It knocked me out.”
George smiled. “In other words you were kayoed by a mechanical man!” The others laughed.
As Nancy told what had happened to her, the electrician and the girls gazed at the fallen robot.
Mr. Glassboro remarked, “If we try out any more of these tapes, we’d better put old Robby in a cage! But I’ll repair the one that caused the explosion, so it will be safe to use.”
The mechanical man was dragged to his feet. Mr. Glassboro removed the head and looked inside the body. He said the wires seemed to be all right, but the tape had been ruined by George’s vigorous whacking.
“Thank goodness!” said Bess. “This thing is really dangerous!”
It was evident to the girls that Rawley Banister kept the robot on hand for protection. Was he so deeply involved in swindles that he feared for his life? they wondered.
Mr. Glassboro spoke up. “This is no play toy. I’ll explain how he works, then I think he should be hidden. How about this closet here?”
BOOK: The Crooked Banister
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