She rose and hurried to the stairway. Seeing no one, she descended quickly, with Bess and George following. Nobody was in sight on the second floor.
“Bess, run down the front stairway and find out if anyone is around,” George ordered. “I’ll take the back stairs. Nancy, you’d better take it easy.”
Nancy needed no second urging. She was feeling very dizzy and went to lie down on her bed. Bess and George returned in a few minutes to report that no one seemed to be in the house.
“Old houses are sometimes squeaky,” George remarked. “Maybe no one was on the stairs after all.”
At this moment she looked at Nancy, who was very white. Worried, George recommended that they call a doctor. Nancy tried to protest, but was overruled.
“Where’s the phone?” George asked Bess.
“I don’t know,” Bess said. “Anyway, I think I should go and get Mr. and Mrs. Spencer.”
She hurried off and in a few minutes returned with the couple. Margo Spencer, about forty years old, blond, and attractive, was extremely concerned about what had happened. She agreed that the Drews’ family physician should be called.
“Our phone is on a table in the lower hall,” she said. “I guess you didn’t notice it because I always keep a large bouquet of flowers there.”
George put in the call, then returned to the second floor. As she started down the hall, a man came up the rear stairway. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had thick, curly, graying hair. His eyes were deep-set and penetrating.
As he walked past Nancy’s bedroom, Mr. Spencer called, “Hi, Cally old boy!” He turned to the three girls. “I’d like you to meet my friend Emmet Calhoun. Cally old boy is a Shakespearean actor. Right now he’s looking for another show. Meanwhile, he’s helping us coach.” He gave Mr. Calhoun the details of Nancy’s accident.
“Most unfortunate!” the actor said dramatically. “Those beautiful eyes—they might have been closed forever!” Striking a dramatic pose, Cally old boy began to quote a Shakespearean verse:“ ‘From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish all the world.’”
“Thank you,” said Nancy, smiling.
Bess’s eyes sparkled. “That’s from Love’s Labour’s Lost, isn’t it?” she asked.
Mr. Calhoun beamed. “Yes, it is, my dear. It is regrettable that most young people cannot quote from the Bard. We can learn so much from Shakespeare.”
Mrs. Spencer took the actor by the arm and went with him to the door. “Come, Cally,” she said. “Let’s leave the girls alone. Nancy should rest.”
The girls were a bit amused at her diplomacy. They saw at once that Cally old boy might easily become a bore!
“Here comes the doctor,” Bess said presently. She was glancing out the window at the parking lot.
Doctor Black examined Nancy’s head thoroughly, then said she would be all right in a few hours. “You are to eat nothing but broth and crackers, and rest for five or six hours,” the doctor said sternly.
Bess went to the kitchen, found some concentrated bouillon, and arranged Nancy’s prescribed diet on a small tray. Soon after eating the soup, Nancy fell asleep.
About ten o’clock that evening she awakened completely refreshed. Finding Bess and George in their room, she announced she would like to go over to the playhouse to see the rest of the show.
Bess and George agreed, but paused to comb their hair first. Nancy waited a moment for them, then started ahead down the front stairway. As she reached the first floor, the phone rang.
“I’m the dancing puppet! Go away!” the caller
cackled in a witchlike tone
“I’ll answer it,” she thought, and went over to the hall table.
“Hello?” she said, just as Bess and George walked up to her.
A woman’s shrill voice asked, “Is Nancy Drew there?”
“This is Nancy Drew speaking. Who is this?”
The voice at the other end, obviously disguised, cried out loudly in a cackling, witchlike tone, “I’m the dancing puppet. If you know what’s good for you, Nancy Drew, you’ll leave me alone. Get out! Go away!” The speaker hung up.
Nancy’s expression had become one of complete amazement. When she relayed the message to Bess and George, they, too, looked stunned and worried. But in a moment all three girls regained their composure.
“Who was it, do you suppose?” Bess asked. “Some girl who plays the part of the puppet?”
Nancy shook her head. “Mr. Spencer assured me that the puppet is not alive.”
“It was probably the puppeteer,” George guessed.
“Perhaps,” Nancy conceded. “Or it might just be someone playing a joke.”
“This is no joke, Nancy,” Bess declared. “I think it is all part of a plot against either the Spencers or the Footlighters. Now that you’re in the group, that unidentified woman is your enemy too!”
“That might be,” Nancy agreed. “And it is just possible that the doll trunk with the cannon ball in it didn’t just fall off the beam above my head.”
Bess looked aghast. “You mean that someone sneaked up to the attic and deliberately knocked you out?”
“I’m inclined to think so,” Nancy said. “And I intend to find out who it was!”
She asked the other girls if they knew whether or not there was a phone extension in the house which the “puppet” might have used.
“Mr. Spencer didn’t say,” George answered.
The girls searched but found none. Nancy suggested that perhaps there was an extension out in the theater, but she found that the phone in the theater was in a booth and had a different number from the one in the house. “There’s no telling where that mysterious call was dialed from,” she said. “The speaker might have been nearby, or at a distance.”
By this time Bess was thoroughly alarmed. Grabbing Nancy’s arm, she looked at her and said, “We haven’t been here one night yet, and awful things are happening! Nancy, the case isn’t worth it. Let’s do as that caller said. Let’s leave!”
CHAPTER III
An Enlightening Scene
ALTHOUGH Bess pleaded, Nancy would not consent either to leave the Van Pelt estate or to give up trying to solve the mystery of the dancing puppet.
Bess shrugged. “I suppose it’s no use, but I admit I’m worried.” She gave Nancy a searching look. “Probably you already have a hunch about this whole case.”
Nancy laughed. “A hunch, Bess, but not one good clue.”
Bess and George demanded to know what the hunch was.
“It’s possible there is hidden jealousy between the pros and certain of the amateurs,” Nancy told them. In a whisper she added, “I think we should watch everybody. The Spencers seem like fine people, but there may be some angle not noticeable on the surface. One of the amateurs may be trying to drive the pros out of here. On the other hand, the pros may be trying to get control and turn the theater into an entirely professional one.” Nancy suggested that the girls separate and each do some sleuthing. “Bess, suppose you keep an eye on Tammi. George, will you watch the comings and goings to the house? I’ll wander around the theater.”
The girls agreed. As Nancy walked toward the big red barn, she told herself she would phone her father and have him look up the record of each of the pros. “Maybe I’d better ask him to do the same with the amateurs,” she thought.
When she entered the theater Nancy was amazed to see how well equipped it was. On the paneled walls hung lovely paintings by local amateur artists. The stage was spacious and the scenery attractive. The audience half filled the place. Nancy slid into a vacant seat in the last row and in a few moments became fascinated with the Civil War play in progress. Some time had passed before she reminded herself she had come to do some sleuthing. The acting had been so excellent and the play so interesting that she had completely forgotten her work.
&
nbsp; But suddenly Nancy felt too weary to do anything but sit still. “Anyway,” she told herself, “the first logical bit of detective work might be just to watch the amateur performance closely.”
Presently the leading man, young Bob Simpson, walked on stage. He was about twenty years of age, very tall and dark, with darting, flirtatious eyes. After a short time, he was joined by Tammi Whitlock, who looked very attractive in her neat, trim bodice, long skirt, and ruffled silk bonnet.
As Nancy watched the stage, something suddenly dawned on her. The characters were doing a love scene, which Bob Simpson was playing convincingly, yet still only as an actor. Tammi, on the other hand, was putting almost too much into the lines, and it became evident to Nancy that the leading lady was very much interested in the leading man.
“I’m sure the feeling isn’t mutual,” Nancy decided, as the scene changed.
The play ended soon afterward, and the amateur performers took many curtain calls before the extremely enthusiastic audience.
Nancy made her way backstage. She was just in time to meet Bess, who whispered, “Wasn’t Tammi something in that love scene? She certainly overplayed it. I’m glad Bob didn’t fall for it. I just don’t care for that girl—and I don’t think Mr. Spencer does, either.”
“What makes you say that?” Nancy asked eagerly.
Bess reported that when the show was over, Tammi had waylaid Bob and impishly repeated some of the lines from the love scene. Bob had reddened, but before he could reply, Mr. Spencer had marched up to Tammi.
“Wow! Did he bawl her out!” Bess said. “He told Tammi she was making the performance seem like a grade school skit!”
Nancy smiled as she and Bess walked back to the house. One by one the actors and actresses, having changed clothes and removed their make-up, appeared in the hall. Most of them went directly to the parking lot and left. Others remained to talk. Bob Simpson had been among the first to leave, possibly avoiding Tammi.
Within half an hour everyone had left. Nancy and her friends got bottles of soda from the refrigerator and went up to Nancy’s room.
“Well, George,” said Nancy, “what’s your report?”
“Nothing to do with the dancing puppet,” George replied. “But I have a couple of other interesting items to tell you. There was a regular battle between Tammi and Mr. Spencer just before you girls came into the house. He said to her, ‘Young woman, keep your personal feelings out of this theater!’ ”
“And what did Tammi say?” Bess asked quickly.
Her cousin grinned. “For a second I thought she was going to hit him, but all she said to Mr. Spencer was, ‘And suppose you stay out of my personal affairs!’ ”
Bess was thoughtful a moment, then said, “Nancy, it just might be that Tammi is a jealous person. I’m certain she has heard enough about you to be afraid you’d give her some competition with Bob Simpson, and that’s why she didn’t vote to have you join the Footlighters.”
George laughed. “Bess, don’t ever tell that to Ned Nickerson,” she said, referring to Nancy’s special date.
Nancy blushed a bit, then asked George what else had happened.
“I don’t know if this has any significance,” George answered, “but during the performance, two of the actresses came out and went into a dressing room. Pretty soon I heard one of them crying.”
“Oh, what a shame!” Bess said sympathetically. “Did you find out why?”
George said the one who was crying was a girl named Kathy Cromwell.
“She’s Tammi’s understudy,” Bess told the others.
“But she has a part in this play,” said Nancy. “And she’s very good, too.”
“Yes, she is,” Bess agreed. “But only in her own part. Every time she rehearses the lines of Tammi’s part, she freezes or gets them mixed up. Poor Kathy! She’s a sweet girl—not a bit like Tammi. In fact, quite shy, except on the stage.”
Nancy reminded George that she had not yet told them why Kathy was crying. “Did it have anything to do with Tammi?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It could have,” George answered. “The only thing I heard her say was, ‘I can’t stand it another minute!’ The girl who was with her said, ‘Oh, Kathy, please—don’t let her get you down!’ ”
Bess’s eyes flashed. “I’ll bet anything they were talking about Tammi. Well, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open next time I’m backstage.”
Nancy had already started to undress, since she had had a long and exciting day. Bess and George said good night and left her. She slept soundly and did not waken until eight o’clock the following morning. When she left her room to take a shower, Nancy discovered that the door to Bess and George’s room was open.
“They must be downstairs,” she told herself. “I’ll hurry.”
Nancy bathed and dressed quickly. She found her friends in the kitchen getting breakfast. Three good-mornings were said at once, and George added, “Ham and eggs?”
“Umm—sounds perfect!” Nancy admitted.
The three girls sat down at a large, round table in a bay window of the kitchen. They ate heartily, enjoying a few leisure minutes, then washed the dishes and put them away.
“What’s first on the agenda?” George asked Nancy.
“I’d like to investigate the theater when no one’s in it,” Nancy answered.
Bess offered to straighten up their rooms. “You girls go on ahead. I’ll join you later,” she said.
George laughed. “You won’t have to make that offer twice,” she exclaimed. “I’ll take sleuthing with Nancy any time to bedmaking!”
The two girls stepped out to the kitchen stoop and walked underneath the covered arbor which led to a side door of the theater. The arbor was used by the actors to get back and forth to their dressing rooms. Grapevines climbed lazily over the trellis, giving the walk an artistic appearance.
The barn door opened into one side of the stage, where scenery stood piled against the rear wall. The opening set of the current play was already in place. Curious, Nancy and George gazed about but saw nothing unusual.
“Let’s try the small barn,” Nancy suggested.
They went outside and walked over to a sliding door that opened into the attached building. Inside was a small floor area with stables to the right. On the left, where the building adjoined the stage was a loft filled with hay.
Nancy’s eyes fell on a ladder leading to the hayloft. “Maybe this place holds a clue to the mystery,” she said hopefully. “Let’s go up and see.”
George followed her, and together the girls began to probe the hay. Presently George cried out, “Nancy—I’ve hit something!”
CHAPTER IV
Stage Gossip
STUMBLING across the hay, Nancy wondered what George had located.
“It’s hard and heavy,” George told her.
Nancy helped her friend pull the hay aside. “If this thing had been hidden much deeper, it would have fallen between the mow poles to the floor below,” George said.
Finally the object was revealed. It proved to be a heavy wooden chest.
“This is like lead!” George remarked. She tried to lift the lid of the box but failed.
Nancy took a turn. She frowned. “There’s no lock on this, but the box simply won’t open.”
For several minutes the girls took turns trying to pry open the mysterious little chest, without success. Suddenly Nancy said, “This reminds me of a box I once saw in the River Heights Museum. The attendant there showed me how to open the secret lock.”
Deftly she felt along the back, pressing hard with one thumb. To her delight, she struck the right spot. The lid of the chest flew up!
The two girls gazed within, then looked at each other completely astonished. The box contained two small cannon balls!
“There is just space in here for a third one!” George exclaimed. “That third one must have been the very ball that hit you yesterday.”
“Which would seem to prove,” Nancy added, “that som
ebody sneaked up with it to the attic when no one was in sight, and hurled it at me.”
The statement alarmed George. She began to look around fearfully and whispered, “Do you suppose anyone is hiding under the hay?”
“We’ll soon find out,” said Nancy, getting up from her kneeling position. “Let’s take a look.”
Once more the girls began kicking the hay that covered the entire loft. They found no one in hiding.
“I suppose we should remove this chest before someone else can do any damage with its contents,” suggested Nancy. But the two girls found the chest too heavy and awkward to carry. “Maybe it would be better if we get that cannon ball out of the attic and bring it here to see if it matches these,” the young detective decided.
“And if it does,” George said, “we’ll have one clue.”
She and Nancy hurried down the ladder and back to the house. Bess was amazed to hear what the girls had found and went with them to the attic.
“Do you think the person who threw the cannon ball is also connected with the puppet mystery?” she asked Nancy.
“I can’t say,” Nancy answered. “Not enough evidence to go on yet. By the way, let’s not all face in the same direction in case another attacker is up here.”
George stood guard at the head of the stairway, while Bess kept a sharp lookout for anyone who might be lurking in the attic. Nancy searched for the cannon ball.
“Why, it’s gone!” she cried out.
“Gone!” the others echoed. George added, “I guess the person who threw it is clever enough to remove any evidence against him.”
“You’re right,” Nancy agreed. “We’ll really have to be on our toes to catch this culprit!”
As the girls gathered at the top of the stairway, she added in a whisper, “I suggest we don’t go back to the haymow now, but watch it tonight. We may learn more then.”
Nancy further suggested that the girls not tell the Spencers or anyone else what they had discovered so far. “I’d like to pick up more clues first,” she said.