“It wasn’t your fault,” Nancy assured her. “Fortunately you weren’t hurt. And you’ve uncovered a clue!” she exclaimed.
Excitedly Nancy examined the torn place. Several tiny bars of music were painted on the wall!
Nancy summoned Mr. March to the stairway. At first he thought she was calling attention to the costume, but when the elderly man saw the music notes, he too became excited.
“Maybe it’s part of one of our old family songs!” he exclaimed. “I’d like to know if there’s any more of it here. Let’s tear off the paper!” Mr. March urged. “It’s too faded to worry about, anyway.”
Inch by inch, with the help of Nancy, Bess, and George, he removed a large area of the wall covering. It was slow, tedious work, but at last they were successful. Gradually a charming, old fashioned scene was revealed of a woman seated at a piano and a man beside her singing.
The last bit of paper to come off partially covered the music rack of the piano. Someone had sketched in a sheet of music, the notes of which had first drawn Nancy’s attention. Printed in tiny lettering was the composer’s name, a member of the March family.
Nancy hummed the pictured notes. The tune was indeed one which Fipp March had elaborated upon, and was a current “hit.”
“Now we have real proof that Ben Banks is an impostor! This is one of the melodies he claims as his!” Mr. March exclaimed.
“Would a court accept such evidence?” George asked.
“I think it would,” Nancy said soberly. “Of course it might not be necessary to go to such lengths. If Mr. Jenner knows we have a case against him, he’ll probably prefer to settle matters without a lawsuit. If you wish, Mr. March, I’ll see the publisher.”
“Yes, do that,” he urged.
Nancy asked Bess and George if they would accompany her to Mr. Jenner’s office in Oxford, a town several miles from River Heights. The girls were eager to go, and suggested starting at once. An hour later, they arrived at their destination, a dingy brick structure.
“This isn’t very inviting,” said Bess as they entered.
From an upstairs room came the strains of a swing band. In another section of the building someone was picking out a few notes on a piano.
“Listen!” Nancy cried suddenly.
“I don’t hear anything except that loud music,” George declared. “The tune is catchy but all those discords!”
“The person at the piano is playing one of Fipp March’s songs!” Nancy said.
The girls moved nearer to the closed door. Soon the piano playing ceased abruptly. After waiting a moment, the callers went along the hall until they came to a door which bore the name of the music publisher. Nancy and her friends entered.
They found themselves in an untidy little room. A desk was piled high with papers, books, and stacks of music. A girl sat at a typewriter. She chewed gum to the rhythm of her typing and did not look up for a long while.
“Well?” she inquired at last.
“May we see Mr. Jenner, please?” Nancy requested politely.
The girl looked her over from head to toe.
“If you have music to sell, you’ve come to the wrong place. Mr. Jenner isn’t buying from amateurs.”
“I have nothing to sell,” Nancy replied. “Please give my name to your employer.”
She removed a card from her purse. The office girl accepted it with a shrug and vanished into an inner room. She did not return for several minutes. Then her message was crisp and to the point.
“Mr. Jenner isn’t seeing anybody today except one of his composers. And he said to tell you it wouldn’t do any good to come back, either!”
“I see,” said Nancy. Flushing slightly, she turned away.
“I was afraid this might happen,” she declared as the girls paused in the hall.
“I feel like going back in there and demanding an interview!” George said.
“Let your father handle that horrid man,” Bess pleaded.
Determined not to go home without finding out something, Nancy paused again. Then she walked down the corridor where she suspected Mr. Jenner’s private office was located. Through an open transom came voices.
“Ben, we’re in a tight spot,” they heard the music publisher say. “That Drew girl has just left here. Maybe she has found some proof.”
“Impossible!” replied the other voice.
“Just the same, it may be well to call off your scheduled public appearances and lie low for a while. We can’t take chances.”
Nancy and her friends strained to hear more. The voices dropped, however, and the girls could not make out another word.
“Mr. Jenner must be talking to Ben Banks!” Nancy whispered excitedly. “Oh, I wish we could learn more about that fellow!”
“Maybe we can,” George said in her friend’s ear. “Why not stay around here until he comes out of the office?”
“And then follow him!” Nancy added. “You girls wait outside the building. I’ll watch this door.”
Bess and George immediately tiptoed down the hallway and vanished. Nancy looked about for a hiding place. The best one she could find was a little niche near the stairway.
Twenty minutes elapsed. At the end of that time the door of Mr. Jenner’s office opened. Out stepped a lean, long-haired man of early middle age. He had a roll of music under his arm. Nancy was convinced that he must be Ben Banks.
Waiting until he had rounded the corner, she followed him. At the street entrance she spotted Bess and George standing in a shadowy doorway. With a nod of her head she signaled to them.
The cousins immediately started off in pursuit of Ben Banks. Nancy waited until she was certain her movements would not arouse the songwriter’s suspicions. Then she hastened after her friends and caught up with them.
The man walked rapidly. Of one thing Nancy was certain: this thin man was not the strange intruder at the March homestead. The prowler was heavy-set.
Without once glancing back, Banks walked on until he came to a small hotel, the Millette. Entering, he went directly to the desk.
Nancy, Bess, and George stood in the lobby. They heard the man say to the desk clerk:
“My key, please.”
“Yes, Mr. Dight,” the other replied, handing it to him.
“Dight!” Nancy almost exclaimed aloud.
CHAPTER XVI
Poetic Hint
NANCY and her friends wondered if they had heard correctly. The name of the man they thought was Ben Banks was Dight! To make sure of this, the girls waited until the man had gone up in the elevator. Then they went to the desk.
“Is Mr. Banks registered here?” Nancy asked, smiling at the clerk.
“You mean the composer? Yes, but he uses his own name of Horace Dight. I’m sorry, but Mr. Dight can’t see you now. He left word that he didn’t want to be disturbed.”
The girls left the hotel. On the way back to River Heights, they discussed the new developments in the mystery.
“Do you suppose Mr. Dight is related to Diane’s family?” Bess asked.
“This so-called Ben Banks may very well be a relative,” Nancy agreed. “I’ll make it my business to find out. If he is, what a tangle this mystery is becoming!”
In the light of the day’s discovery, Mr. Drew’s case took on new significance. Nancy was eager to get home and talk to her father. She had been in the house only fifteen minutes before he came in.
Nancy asked, “How are things going in the Dight case?”
“Not good for him. Mr. Booker has just informed me that his chemist has analyzed the bottles of fluid you obtained from the Dight factory.”
“With what result, Dad?”
“The solutions are the same as those used in the Booker plant to toughen the spider thread.”
“Then Lawrence Dight did steal the formula —or rather, hired Bushy Trott to do it!”
“It appears that way. I’ve decided to prosecute Dight as soon as I can prepare my case.”
Nancy then
told her father what she had learned about Ben Banks, and the fact that the man’s real name was Horace Dight.
“Affairs are getting complicated,” the lawyer mused.
“I certainly need your advice,” Nancy said. “Can you find out anything about Horace Dight?”
“Let me check my files at the office to see if I have anything on him,” Mr. Drew offered.
A quick call to his secretary revealed that Lawrence Dight did indeed have a second cousin named Horace.
“You’re a really thorough investigator,” Nancy remarked with a smile.
“Well, you never know when some small detail about a man’s background may prove very useful,” Carson Drew replied. “In this case, all I have to go on is the fact that this cousin Horace is a loafer about the same age as Lawrence Dight.”
“Where do we go from here?” Nancy wondered. “Ben Banks learned from Mr. Jenner that a certain Nancy Drew knows something about him and wants to know more. He may mention my name to the River Heights Dight family.”
“I never thought of that!” exclaimed Mr. Drew. “Maybe I’d better hold up the proceedings against Lawrence Dight until you clear up the March case. And have you found any more of Fipp’s songs?”
Nancy shook her head.
“I certainly hope you can,” her father said. “Mr. Hawkins has purchased that song you brought me.”
“Wonderful!” Nancy exclaimed.
“I received a letter from Hawkins this morning. He liked Fipp March’s song very much, and he wants more like it.”
“If only I could supply some! So far I haven’t been able to find another piece, Dad. But I believe I have a good clue this time.”
She told her father about hearing a tune on the radio which Mr. March believed to be Fipp’s and which contained the phrase “My heart’s desire.”
“I recall reading those words in one of the letters Fipp March wrote to his wife,” Nancy explained. “I believe the clue to the missing music —if there’s any that hasn’t been stolen—may be in those letters after all. Suppose I get them—”
“You’d better pack some clothes and slip away from here,” her father advised. “If the Dight cousins suspect you’re after them, I’d feel better if they don’t know for sure where to find you.”
“I see what you mean,” Nancy agreed and paused a moment. “The March mansion will serve that purpose. And there’s so much at the house I want to investigate. I’ll leave now and take the letters with me.”
“Good! I’ll drive out there if I have anything to report before I hear from you.”
Nancy was sorry to leave her father so soon, but he wanted her to get back to Pleasant Hedges while it was still daylight. She had had so much to talk to him about that she had forgotten completely to tell him of the appearance of the strange intruder at the March home.
Upon reaching the old mansion, Nancy immediately sought out Mr. March. She told him that her father’s client had bought Fipp’s song.
“That’s marvelous! Now my son and the March family will have recognition at last. Nancy, I never can repay you for what you’ve done!”
“Mr. Hawkins would like more songs.” Nancy smiled. “I’m going to search harder than ever for them now. Here are your son’s letters. Let’s look through them for clues.”
For some time the elderly man and his guest read without saying a word.
Then suddenly Nancy cried out, “Here’s what I was looking for! Listen to this!”
Nancy read from one of Fipp March’s letters to his wife:
“‘No love more true than mine,
I would protect thee every day.
Among old things and fine,
I put my heart’s desire away.’”
“It’s a pretty verse,” said Mr. March. “But as to its being a clue—”
Nancy gave her interpretation of the words. “Your son wanted to provide for his wife always. He put the song with the words ‘My heart’s desire’ among some fine old things. She was to find the music and sell it if the need arose.”
“I see. And you think he meant he hid it somewhere in our attic?”
“Perhaps,” Nancy replied. “Let’s see if we can find another clue among these letters. I have a hunch the key to the mystery is right here.”
A very few minutes later Nancy came across a lovely verse. “I believe I’ve found it!” she exclaimed excitedly. She read it aloud:
“‘Long-forgotten man,
My secret you hide,
Reveal it to my love,
That comfort may abide.’ ”
“That means less to me than the other verse,” declared Mr. March. “What do you make of it?”
“‘Long-forgotten man’ must be the skeleton! He guards a secret which, when found, will bring comfort to your son’s family!”
“Maybe,” the elderly man agreed. “But you’ve already found the secret drawer in the wardrobe. There was only one song in it.”
Despite this, Nancy was hopeful about the skeleton clue. She insisted upon going to the attic at once for a further investigation of the skeleton and the wardrobe. Mr. March followed her, carrying a lighted candle.
“I can’t stand many more disappointments,” he said in a gloomy tone. “Each time I think something surely will come of the search, only failure has been the result. I haven’t enough money to start suit against Ben Banks or Harry Hall.”
“I have a hunch that this time we’re going to be successful!” Nancy declared.
As soon as they reached the attic, Nancy went to the old wardrobe and gingerly opened the door. This time she had a very different impression of the skeleton. It did not seem sinister to her; in fact, she could almost imagine it was trying to be friendly.
“Maybe that’s just because we’ve met so often!” she thought with a smile. “Or else it could hold a very vital clue to good fortune for Mr. March and Susan.”
Carefully she removed the bony skeleton from the hook. Where its head had hung, a tiny hole could be seen on the back wall of the wardrobe!
“Perhaps this means something!” she said with increasing hope.
A long, round curtain rod lay on the floor. She picked it up and carefully ran one end through the circular hole in the wardrobe. The rod touched no wall or object beyond.
Puzzled, Nancy removed the rod and peered through the tiny hole. She could see nothing—not even a glimmer of light.
“That’s odd,” she said to Mr. March and stepped aside so he could take a look.
“Wh-what do you suppose—?” the elderly man gasped.
“I always assumed,” Nancy said, “that this wardrobe stood against an outside wall of the attic.”
“I did myself,” Mr. March added, still mystified.
“There must be a room or niche beyond! Otherwise we’d see daylight!”
“You’re right, my dear.” Mr. March shook his head. He laughed gently and added, “To think I’ve lived here all these years without discovering this! You’ve shown me now that I must not take anything for granted.”
Thrilled by her discovery, Nancy said she would run downstairs and out-of-doors to take a look at the architecture of the house. When she inspected the exterior of the mansion critically, she could see that a small section of the main house connected with the roof over the old servants’ quarters.
“There must be a secret room up there,” Nancy thought excitedly.
CHAPTER XVII
The Hidden Room
DARTING into the house, Nancy hurried back to the attic.
“Learn anything?” Mr. March asked.
“Oh yes.” Breathlessly she told him of her find.
“I never knew of any hidden room!” he exclaimed. “But come to think of it, Fipp would disappear for hours at a time. We didn’t know where he was and he never told us anything, so we didn’t ask.”
“Perhaps your son found the room and kept it a secret for his music! Let’s move the wardrobe and investigate.”
Nancy and Mr. March fou
nd it was too heavy for them to budge, so Nancy went off to summon Effie from her supper preparations.
“We need a strong pusher,” she told the maid.
Effie grinned. “I can oblige,” she said. “What’s on your mind?”
“Furniture moving.”
By working together the three finally succeeded in shifting the massive oak wardrobe a few more inches. Susan, who had come upstairs, watched with deep interest.
Suddenly she clapped her hands and began to dance around excitedly.
“There it is! A door with a peephole in the wall!”
“Sure’s you’re born, it is!” Effie agreed, staring in astonishment. “I wouldn’t have believed it. Yet there seems to be all kinds of funny things going on around here.”
The door was a crude, homemade affair, evidently built by someone with little skill in carpentry or craftsmanship.
“Fipp must have put that in himself, the ras-call” Mr. March chuckled. “He was always tinkering.”
Nancy unbolted the door and pushed with all her strength. It refused to give.
“That’s queer,” said Mr. March. “Let me try it.”
He had no better success than Nancy. Effie also tried but to no avail.
“It must be bolted on the other side,” she said. “In that case we’ll never be able to get in.”
Many thoughts flashed through Nancy’s mind. The strange musical notes and the rapping sounds she had heard must have come from beyond this locked door. With no apparent opening to the place from the old servants’ quarters, how did anyone get inside?
Effie whispered hoarsely, “I’ll bet there’s a ghost beyond there! Please leave it alone. Don’t let it out! No telling what it’ll do to us!”
The remark brought Nancy back to reality. She was provoked that the maid had spoken, for her statement had frightened Susan. The child clung to Nancy.
“Effie, go downstairs and take Susan with you,” Nancy said, rather severely. “There are no such things as ghosts and you know it. Mr. March and I will continue the work alone.”
The maid, somewhat embarrassed, took the child by the hand and went to the second floor. Although Nancy had declared there could not be a ghost beyond the locked door, she was apprehensive as to what they might find.