“You think the person with the puppet went through there?” Bess asked. “How could anybody ? We can’t even reach it from here.”
Nancy suggested that the person might have had an accomplice to help him. By standing in the hands of one man, the other, holding the puppet, could have been lifted up to the door. “Let’s try that!” she proposed.
She made a cup of her hands and lifted George high. George reached the door and opened it. “Goes into the haymow,” she told the others. She pulled herself up into it. A moment later she said, “Here’s the answer. A ladder!”
She lowered it to the floor of the stage, and Nancy and Bess climbed up nimbly to join her.
“Let’s pull the ladder up and put it where George found it,” Nancy proposed. “We don’t want to leave any trace of our having been here.”
She and Bess hauled up the ladder, then Bess swung the door shut. The girls gazed around but saw no one. The puppet was not in evidence.
“It’s my guess the person escaped out of this barn and went off with the puppet,” Bess spoke up.
“You could be right,” Nancy agreed. Then she added in a whisper, “But the puppet may be hidden here. Before we look, we’d better make sure no one’s around.”
While Bess and George walked to the edge of the haymow and looked down, Nancy went back to see that the door to the stage was tightly closed. Suddenly the girls heard a deep voice intoning on the stage. The three stood electrified. The next moment they recognized the voice as that of Emmet Calhoun. Nancy opened the door as the actor began to quote from Shakespeare’s King Richard III.
“‘My conscience hath a thousand several
tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a
villain!’ ”
Bess grabbed Nancy’s arm. “He’s the one!” she said. “His conscience is bothering him, and he’s trying to get rid of his feeling this way!”
“Sh!” George warned, as Cally old boy went on:“‘O, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side!’ ”
Emmet Calhoun did not recite any more. He gazed around the stage, then went outside.
“Wasn’t that something!” George said, chuckling.
Bess did not smile. “That’s from Measure for Measure,” she murmured. She looked at Nancy and asked, “Do you think he’s involved in this mystery?”
“It’s a possibility,” Nancy answered. “He is a strange person,” she said.
George suggested that the mystery might be some kind of a joke. Bess gave her a withering look. “Joke! Nancy gets knocked on the head and somebody runs into her car?”
Nancy agreed with Bess. “One thing’s sure,” she said. “We’ll need a lot more dues before we can decide anything.”
The girls made sure no one was hiding in the hay barn, then they began their hunt for the mysterious dancing puppet.
“Let’s each take a section of the hay,” Nancy proposed.
Bess and George chose the two far sides, while Nancy remained in the center. The three girls were silent as they scuffed through the loose hay and parted it with their hands. About five minutes later Nancy’s foot kicked against a hard object.
“Something here!” she sang out.
The other girls rushed to her side, and together they unearthed the hidden object.
“Another puppet!” Nancy exclaimed in amazement. “Bess, will you go stand near the ladder and tell me if anyone comes into the barn? Nobody must know that we’ve found this!”
As Bess moved several feet away from the others, Nancy held up the life-size puppet. It was dressed in traditional witch clothes.
“Who on earth hid this?” George cried out.
The others could not answer her. Nancy instantly recalled the telephone call she had received on the day of their arrival—when the high-pitched, witchlike voice had claimed to be the dancing puppet. Now she wondered if the person who had called was the owner of this witch as well as the dancing puppet.
“Who on earth hid this?” George cried out
Aloud Nancy said, “I believe we’ve discovered the hiding place for the ballet puppet, but we’ve come too late to find it.”
George had a sudden idea and rushed to the spot where the chest of cannon balls had been buried. They were gone!
The girls looked at one another. “Now what?” Bess asked.
CHAPTER VII
An Actress’s Threat
WITH deft fingers, Nancy was already examining the witch puppet. Carefully she removed each garment and laid it on the hay.
Bess remarked, “It has a horrible face. What was the dancing puppet’s face like, Nancy?”
“I caught only a glimpse of it,” Nancy replied, “but I think it was more girlish. This one, you notice, has a long, sharp nose.”
“Yes,” George spoke up, and added, “I’ll bet our detective is hunting for hidden springs or some other type of mechanism that makes this old lady work.”
Nancy admitted this. The puppet was well jointed to make it execute all kinds of movements. But it had no springs, rods, or levers with which to manipulate it.
“There’s no sign of an opening any place,” Nancy remarked.
She began to re-dress the figure. Bess kept peering over the edge of the haymow while George, from time to time, looked down through the open door to the stage to report if anyone appeared. No one did.
Nancy, meanwhile, was mulling over the subject of the life-size puppets. Had they belonged to the Van Pelt family, or had they been brought here recently? If the latter, why? Finally she finished dressing the witch and hid it under the hay in the exact spot where she had found it.
“We’ve searched this place pretty thoroughly,” she said to her friends. “I think our next search should be in the attic of the house. There’s a lot of stuff in that place we haven’t examined yet.”
When the girls walked into the old mansion, they found that the Spencers were just starting brunch. They greeted the girls affably, and Margo added, “How do you manage to get up so early in the morning? It would kill me!”
Nancy chuckled. “Just habit, I guess,” she answered. “You know it’s said, ‘The early bird catches the worm,’ and I figure if I get out early enough in the morning, I may catch a villain or two!”
The Spencers laughed, but before they had a chance to retort, Emmet Calhoun walked in. He was pounding his chest. “Nothing like a good morning constitutional,” he said. “Now I’m ready for breakfast.”
Since there was no food for him on the table and he did not move toward the kitchen, Bess kindly offered to fix him some breakfast. He beamed and said he would help. But before he had a chance to follow Bess, Tammi Whitlock walked into the dining room.
“Good morning, Tammi,” the others greeted her, and Emmet Calhoun gave her a wide smile.
Tammi scowled. “What’s good about it?” she asked. “Well, I may as well tell you why I’m here. Mr. Spencer, I want to talk to you about the next play—the one that’s in rehearsal now. You know as well as I do that everything’s been going wrong.
“That’s because you won’t take any advice. I know young people better than you do. If you don’t listen to me, the show is going to be a real flop—and that will be the end of your job with the Footlighters!”
Hamilton Spencer looked stunned. The young woman’s impudence held him speechless for a moment.
Tammi took advantage of the situation. With each utterance against him and the play, she became more dramatic, until she was fairly shrieking. Finally the actor rose from his chair and faced her, his eyes blazing:
“Tammi Whitlock, I’ve told you before to keep your personal feelings and ideas out of this theater! I’m not afraid of losing my job. Don’t forget that there must be a vote on the subject by the whole group. I admit the cast is not doing very well in the rehearsals, but your suggestions on how to run them are a lot of rubbish. Now I’ll thank you not to bring
up the subject again!”
Nancy and George, embarrassed, escaped to the kitchen to help Bess. Emmet Calhoun, seated at a table there, was smiling as if thoroughly enjoying the whole thing.
“I like people with fire,” he said. “Tammi’s beautiful when she’s angry.” The actor grinned. “Wish I could say the same for Hamilton Spencer.” Calhoun rose in his chair, and folding his arms, quoted from Othello:“‘O! beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-eyed monster which doth
mock
The meat it feeds on.’ ”
Suddenly George began to laugh, saying, “We don’t have to go to the theater to see a good play. Just come to the Van Pelt house!” Her good humor seemed to break the tension that had risen.
By this time Bess had managed to burn the toast and scorch the scrambled eggs. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll make some more.”
Emmet Calhoun acted as if he had not heard her. He was gazing into the dining room where Tammi and Mr. Spencer were still battling.
With Nancy and George helping, the Shakespearean actor’s breakfast was ready in a jiffy. They served it to him, then dashed upstairs.
“I think Tammi is perfectly horrid!” Bess burst out. “I don’t see why they keep her in the Footlighters.”
“There’s one very good reason,” Nancy reminded her friend. “Tammi is an excellent actress—she has amateur status, but she performs as if she had had professional training.”
The three girls had just reached the stairway leading to the attic when Tammi Whitlock came hurrying up to the second floor. “Hold it!” she ordered.
The girls turned in surprise.
“Where are you going?” she asked. Nancy and the cousins remained silent. “Oh, don’t act so smug,” she said angrily. “Nancy Drew, I’ve heard you’re a detective. That means there’s a mystery around here, or you wouldn’t be staying at the mansion.”
As Tammi paused, Nancy looked intently at her and said, “Go on.”
For a second Tammi seemed nonplused, but regaining her belligerent attitude, she said, “I have a right to know what the mystery is!”
George looked at Tammi in disgust. “Assuming there is a mystery,” she said, “just what gives you the right to know what it is?”
“Right?” Tammi repeated. “Who has a better right? I’ll have you know I’m the most important person in this amateur group! You and Nancy—and even Bess—are newcomers. And not one of you is an actress!” she added.
Nancy had flushed, but she kept her temper. Bess was too flabbergasted to speak. But George was furious.
“So you think you’re so important?” she almost yelled at Tammi. “Well, you’d better look out or somebody will prick that bubble of conceit! You know how to recite lines and strut around the stage, but that’s about it. You’re a troublemaker with no respect for your elders. I could tell you a lot more, but I don’t even want to talk to you. Better get out of here—and fast!”
Tammi, stunned, glared at George. She started down the hall toward the front stairway. But over her shoulder she called back, “I have influence! I’ll have all three of you put out of the Footlighters!”
The girls dashed into the cousins’ room and looked out the window. They saw Tammi flounce out of the house and drive off in her car. Nancy and George were ready to shrug off Tammi’s threats, but Bess was worried.
“You know Tammi might try to get rid of all of us,” she said. “The Footlighters can’t afford to lose their leading lady, so we three might have to go instead.”
Nancy had not thought of the problem this way. “If I were no longer a member of the Footlighters, I might have to leave the Van Pelt estate,” she thought. “Then I wouldn’t be able to solve the mystery of the dancing puppet!”
Suddenly Bess’s mood changed. “Say,” she said, snapping her fingers, “I have an idea! Nancy, in school you were simply marvelous as the leading lady in plays. Poor Kathy is so scared of Tammi, she can’t remember her lines as an understudy. But you could do it. Why don’t you learn Tammi’s lines in the present play? Then if things come to a showdown, you could take her place!”
Nancy laughed. “I never could take Tammi’s place,” she said. “But I must admit I’m intrigued with the idea of learning her part. Listen, though, this must not be known to a soul but the three of us.” The cousins agreed.
Nancy, who learned lines quickly and easily, began to quote from the love scene in the play between Tammi and Bob Simpson. Using George as the leading man, she overplayed the part, rolling her eyes, and blowing him kisses with sighs loud enough to be heard on the first floor.
Bess, meanwhile, was so convulsed with laughter that she had thrown herself on the bed and was rolling from side to side, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“It’s perfect! Absolutely perfect!” she said, dabbing her eyes.
George, too, was roaring with laughter. Finally she said, “Nancy, if you ever get a chance to play the part and do that to Bob Simpson, I’m telling you, Ned Nickerson will scalp you!”
“He sure would,” Bess laughed. Nancy’s tall, good-looking friend, who attended Emerson College, was now a summer counselor at a camp.
Nancy grinned. “Enough play acting! Let’s get on up to the attic!” she said.
At this moment the girls heard a woman’s loud and terrified scream from the first floor!
CHAPTER VIII
The Alarming Rehearsal
“WHO WAS that?” Bess exclaimed fearfully.
Nancy and George did not wait to answer. The sound seemed to have come from the kitchen, so they raced down the back stairs. The girls found Margo Spencer standing in the middle of the floor, her hands over her face.
“What happened?” Nancy asked her quickly.
The actress looked at her wildly. “I saw a witch!”
“A witch! Where?” George questioned.
“Out there.” Margo pointed toward the back stoop. “I heard a knock and opened the door. There stood the most horrible-looking witch!”
“What did she say? What did she want?” George queried.
Margo replied that she did not know. “I didn’t give the witch a chance to say anything. I slammed the door and locked it.”
Nancy was across the floor in two seconds. She flung open the door. No one was on the stoop! She turned questioning eyes on Margo Spencer.
“It was there! I saw it!” the actress declared. “I couldn’t make up such a thing!”
By this time her husband had hurried into the kitchen. The drama coach, obviously startled, asked why Margo had screamed. When told, he began to chide her.
“How perfectly ridiculous! You’re seeing things, my dear. Maybe you’ve been working too hard. Suppose you go up and take a nap. I’ll manage the rehearsal alone.”
Margo Spencer turned a withering gaze on him. “I wasn’t seeing things,” she insisted. “Furthermore, you have no right to question my sanity!”
“Now I know you’ve been overworking,” her husband said gently. “I’m not questioning your sanity. We actors and actresses have great imaginations. To us, trees or bushes can take on fantastic shapes.”
Margo Spencer’s eyes were darting fire. Nancy felt very uncomfortable standing there. With a sudden inspiration, she said:
“Mr. Spencer, please let me tell you about something I discovered this morning in the hayloft. It may clarify the situation.”
The Spencers looked at her in astonishment. “How?” Margo asked.
Nancy told how the hay had concealed the witch puppet. “It was well hidden and contained no strings or wires by which one might manipulate it. But it could lean against something. What you saw, Margo, might have been the witch puppet,” she said kindly. “Was it standing by itself, or supported by a post?”
The actress thought a moment. “It was leaning against a post,” she replied. She turned to her husband. “Now do you believe me?”
Mr. Spencer made sincere apologies and gave her a kiss and a hug.
/> “I must go and look in the hayloft again,” said Nancy. “It’s just possible that the witch you saw, Margo, was not the one I found.”
The whole group trooped to the hay barn. No one was around. Nancy went up the wooden ladder to the loft and rummaged in the hay.
“Our friend the witch is still here,” she said. “Margo, will you come up and identify her?”
Margo climbed the ladder, followed by her husband. By this time Nancy had uncovered the figure.
“That’s it!” Margo cried out. “Oh, she’s so ugly! Hamilton, now do you blame me for screaming?”
Mr. Spencer put an arm around his wife. “No, dear. I probably would have done the same thing.”
Conversation now turned to speculation on the identity of the person who had dared bring the figure to the stoop in broad daylight.
“What do you think, Nancy?” Bess asked.
Nancy laughed. “The only thing I know about him at this point is that he’s fleet-footed,” she replied.
She and the others made a thorough search of the theater and the grounds but failed to find any trace of a suspect. The earth was too dry to show footprints plainly. Moreover, there had been so many people coming and going along the arbor walk that it would be impossible to distinguish the shoe prints of any one person.
By the time the group had finished their hunt, several girl members of the Footlighters began to arrive for the rehearsal. When they had assembled in the front row of seats in the theater, Mr. Spencer came out on the stage.
“Young ladies,” he said, “I don’t have to tell you that rehearsals haven’t been going very well. I hope you took my last warning to heart and studied your lines carefully. I’ll read the men’s parts.”
After taking the roll call, he went on, “The girl who was to play the part of the maid has been called out of town for a few weeks. I am giving that part to someone else—Bess Marvin!”
Bess gave a cry of delight, and Nancy and George congratulated her. Their elation was cut short by Hamilton Spencer, who said, “Everybody on stage!”