George laughed and winked at Nancy. “When I’m with Bess, I never need a wristwatch. I always know when it’s lunchtime or dinnertime!”
Her cousin giggled. ‘Oh, you’re just jealous because I have such a good, healthy appetite!”
Nancy, who was standing by smiling at their exchange, found Bess’s idea appealing. “How about you, George? Want to eat here at the club?”
“Lead on,” the slender, dark-haired girl agreed willingly, and all three started toward the locker room.
Just then, Kim Vernon emerged from the club entrance. She declined the three girls’ invitation to join them at lunch and said, “Nancy, may I speak with you for a minute?”
“Of course.”
With a parting wave, her two friends went on into the clubhouse. “We’ll go on and get a table, Nan,” George murmured. “See you inside.”
Kim and Nancy walked toward the shade of a big oak tree.
“Nancy,” the golf star broke the silence, “Russ Chaffee told me he’s asked you to investigate my dropping out of the Charleston Cup Tournament.”
“Yes, he did. He’s very concerned.”
“Russ is a wonderful man and a good friend. He’s helped me a lot,” Kim declared. “But this is my business only!”
The attractive young golfer’s face was pale and serious. She spoke decisively, but Nancy thought she detected a faint tremor in her voice.
“I’m sure he only wants to help you,” the teenager replied calmly.
“Perhaps so. But please,” Kim persisted, “I must ask you not to interfere! I had y reasons for withdrawing, and there’s no need to make a federal case out of it. It’s strictly a private matter. So can’t you just let things be?”
Her onyx-dark eyes looked intently into the teenager’s sapphire-blue ones.
What a spot to be in! thought Nancy. Aloud and choosing her words carefully, she said, “I understand how you feel, Kim. I knew you might object, so I just told Mr. Chaffee I’d look into it---that’s all. I assure you, you have nothing to worry about from me.”
Kim let out a long breath. “Thank you, Nancy!”
“Sure you won’t join us?” the girl detective went on. “We’d love to have you.”
“I wish I could, but I promised to have lunch with my brother,” Kim Vernon replied. “He’s driving over to River Heights on purpose. I’d better hurry, in fact!”
Nancy walked thoughtfully into the clubhouse and soon joined her friends in the dining room. Over soup and salad, she told them about Russ Chaffee’s request and described her rather uncomfortable conversation with Kim.
“Does that mean you’re not going to investigate after all?” George asked shrewdly.
The teenage sleuth shook her head. “On the contrary---now I feel I must. Kim didn’t just sound worried, she looked frightened. I think she’s in some kind of trouble!”
After dropping off Bess and George at their houses, Nancy drove home. As she entered the Drews’ comfortable, cool hall, Hannah Gruen was on the phone.
Turning with a smile to Nancy, she said into the telephone, “One moment, please. Miss Drew just walked in. I’ll let you speak to her.”
Covering the mouthpiece with one hand, she whispered, “It’s that man who called on Saturday and Sunday but wouldn’t leave his name!”
Nancy nodded and took the phone, while Hannah retired to the kitchen. “This is Nancy Drew speaking. Who’s calling?”
“Never mind who’s calling,” a tough, gravelly voice retorted. “You gave me a lot of trouble on Saturday at the country club, Miss Nosy Busy-body! Next time you get in my way, I’ll do more than just knock you down!”
And he hung up.
Nancy, too, put down the phone, her heart beating a bit faster.
Her unpleasant caller had to be the squint-eyed thief whom she’d stopped from tampering with Kim Vernon’s golf bag! But how had he learned who she was?
After a cooling shower, Nancy put on a pink dress and went out to the garden, where Hannah was picking vegetables for the Drews’ dinner. She told the housekeeper she had a visit to make but would be home for dinner.
“Good. We’re having one of your favorite meals, dear---fried chicken and biscuits.”
“Oh, great! I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
“You be careful now.” Hannah smiled and waved.
Soon Nancy was driving out on Old Church Road. She had decided to talk to Kim’s boyfriend, Brett Hulme. On the way, she reviewed what she knew about the talented young jewelry designer.
Over the past few years, Hulme had made quite a name for himself, designing special items of jewelry for prominent socialites and headline personalities. His work was sold in the most exclusive stores and had even been displayed in museums. Recently he had bought a big old house on the outskirts of River Heights and converted its ground floor into a workshop.
As Nancy turned into the graveled drive that led to the half-timbered, tudor-style mansion, she drove past a large, shiny dark limousine with a uniformed chauffeur waiting at the wheel.
Nancy parked and walked up to the house. Just as she reached it, the front door opened and a rather courtly, jolly-looking man emerged. He was elegantly dressed and had a beautifully twirled and waxed moustache.
Smiling at the pretty teenager, he doffed his pearl gray hat and gave a slight bow as he held the door open for her.
As Nancy beamed back at him, his expression made clear that he felt himself amply rewarded. Passing through the vestibule, she glanced out the wide front windows and saw him step into the waiting limousine.
Hulme’s large, airy, sunlit workshop spread out over what Nancy guessed had once been most of the floor space occupied by the mansion’s drawing room, dining room, and kitchen.
There were file cabinets, shelves, and work benches equipped with a variety of hand and power tools. Nancy’s quick eyes took in buffing and grinding wheels, a drill press, a small lathe, electric pickle pots, and at various points on the floor a gas torch, a forge, a motor-driven tumbler for smoothing rough stones and metal, as well as a huge safe and a sink and counter all the way to the rear.
Hunched over a desk, with his back to Nancy, sat a broad-shouldered young man with thick, curly brown hair. Nancy caught her breath as she saw the beautiful creation spread out in front of him. He appeared to be assembling an intricate, web-like necklace. Its delicate, silvery strands glittered under the dazzling radiance of his work light.
With a start, the young man suddenly sensed her presence and looked up. “I didn’t hear you!”
“Sorry.” Nancy smiled. “I came in just as your last visitor was going out---that’s probably why the sound didn’t register.”
The designer nodded and stood up, switching off the light and removing his eyeshade.
Nancy gestured to the silvery craftwork on his desk. “How lovely! What exactly is it to be? A cobweb necklace”
Hulme merely shrugged and folded his muscular arms. “It’s a special order for a customer.”
“Oh I see. I’d better introduce myself, by the way. My name is Nancy Drew. I’m a friend of Kim Vernon’s.”
She saw Hulme’s gray-green eyes brighten with interest, but his handsome face remained impassive. “Oh, yes?” Evidently the young designer was not going out of his way to make the interview any easier.
“I understand you and Kim used to be good friends,” Nancy went on, “so I was wondering if you could help me.”
“In what way?”
“Her coach is very much concerned about her, and frankly so am I. Kim has such a promising future, yet she seems about to throw it away. No doubt you’ve heard about her dropping out of the tournament in Charleston?”
“Yes, it was . . . too bad.” Brett lowered his gaze uneasily and drummed his fingers on the desk. “Very unfortunate and puzzling.”
“That’s exactly the point,” said Nancy. “No one can understand why she would do such a thing. That’s why I came here, hoping you might be able to suggest a
reason. You know her better than I.”
Brett Hulme hesitated. His expression was troubled and sympathetic, yet strangely uncertain. Nancy sensed a conflict going on inside him, and for a moment she thought or hoped he might be about to provide her with a clue to the mystery.
Instead, he shook his head and murmured, “I’m sorry. I really don’t know how I can help.”
Almost as if in protest, there was a sudden crash of glass! A fist-sized object came hurtling through the window, straight toward Brett Hulme’s head!
5. An Ugly Brawl
“Look out!” Nancy cried and pushed Brett Hulme aside.
The missile flew past, barely grazing his cheek!
Without waiting to examine it, Nancy rushed outside to look around. When she came back into the workshop, she saw that Hulme had picked up the object.
“What is it?” Nancy asked.
“Just a rock. But it could have put quite a dent in my head! Did you see who threw it?”
“No. Whoever it was evidently ran off.”
The handsome young jewelry designer looked somewhat pale and shaken, but otherwise unharmed except for a few slight cut on his left forearm and cheek made by the flying glass. He allowed Nancy to draw him toward the sink to wash him off, but brushed aside her offer to bandage him. “Don’t bother, thanks. They’re nothing.”
“Have you any idea who could have thrown that rock?” Nancy asked.
Brett Hulme shrugged. “Haven’t he vaguest.”
“You could have been seriously hurt! I think you should notify the police.”
Hulme looked uncomfortable at this suggestion. “Surely it’s not that important.”
“How can you tell, if you don’t know who threw it or why?” Nancy pointed out. “If you don’t notify the police, I will.”
“Oh, very well.” Picking up the telephone, the young jewelry designer reported the attack and named Nancy Drew a witness. Afterward, Nancy continued chatting for a while, hoping to draw Hulme out on the subject of Kim Vernon. But when she realized that he would tell her nothing further, she decided to go.
As she was leaving, Brett thanked her for saving him from injury. “If your reflexes hadn’t been so good, I might be in the hospital by now!”
Nancy smiled and handed him a slip of paper on which she had jotted down her phone number. “If you think of anything which might help explain Kim’s withdrawal from that tournament, I hope you’ll call me.”
Brett Hulme’s face went blank again and he merely nodded in silence. Nancy drove away from his tudor workshop, strongly suspecting that the jewelry designer knew more than he was telling.
It was late in the afternoon when she arrived home. Nancy tried to call Tad Farr in New York but got no answer and concluded that the young police officer was probably visiting his mother at the hospital before going on night duty in the subway.
Nancy helped Hannah by setting the dinner table and making a big salad. Then she sat down in the living room to read while waiting for her father to arrive home from his law office.
Her glance fell on an article in the evening paper. It told about Jack Vernon and his campaign to be elected as a state assemblyman. The story mentioned that he and his supporters were holding a political rally that evening in the Bradley High School auditorium. Nancy decided to attend.
At dinner, she asked her father if he knew the young politician.
“No, I haven’t met him yet,” Carson Drew replied, “but he seems to have some good ideas. I’d call him a very promising candidate. Why do you ask?”
“I’m going to a political rally for him over in Bradley tonight. He’s Kim Vernon’s brother, you know.”
Carson Drew nodded. “One can see the resemblance. He’s engaged to marry Senator Hawthorne’s daughter, I understand.”
“Yes, their marriage is to take place just before the election,” said Nancy. “But right now I’m hoping he can shed some light on why Kim dropped out of that Charleston Cup Tournament.”
Promptly at eight o’clock, Nancy entered the high school auditorium. It was not full of people but held a very respectable turnout.
Suddenly, as she was about to take an aisle seat, Nancy gave a start. In the middle of the row just behind her own sat Simon Shand!
He did not notice Nancy, and she sat down, wondering what the trucking and shipping tycoon was doing at the rally. He hardly seemed the type to support Vernon’s stand on various issues---especially environmental protection and the cleanup of toxic wastes. Still, the young sleuth reflected, people were full of surprises.
Jack Vernon soon came out on stage to a round of applause. He was a tall, dark-haired young man with an earnest manner and proved to be a good speaker.
“As you all know,” he declared, “I’m in favor of laws to ensure toxic waste cleanup with some real teeth in them. I propose---“
“Aw, whadda you know about it?” a loud needling voice broke in. “We need some guy with experience!”
Thereafter, Jack Vernon was constantly heckled by five or six men scattered throughout the auditorium. It was impossible to hear him over their interruptions. Angry fights soon broke out between them and his supporters.
The political rally gradually turned into an ugly brawl. At last the police had to be called in. They quickly rounded up and arrested the troublemakers, but by that time most of the audience had already left or was streaming out of the auditorium.
Nancy waited until the lingering few who wanted to talk to the young candidate had done so. Then she approached him and introduced herself. “Mr. Vernon, I’m Nancy Drew.”
“Oh, yes.” Jack Vernon smiled and shook her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Nancy---all of it good!”
“I’m so sorry about the way your meeting was broken up tonight.”
Vernon’s face became a trifle grim. “yes, it was deliberately engineered by someone. Not by my political opponent, I hope.” His smile returned as he added, “But never mind all that. What can I do for you, Miss Drew?”
“As you may know, I’m a friend of Kim’s. I want to help her if I can. The way she withdrew from that tournament when she was so far in the lead makes it hard to believe she wasn’t forced to, somehow, against her will. So I’m wondering if you may know, or be able to suggest some reason that might explain why it happened.”
Jack Vernon suddenly became very busy collecting his papers from the desk in front of him. “Sorry, I haven’t a clue. Kim wouldn’t tell me a thing---she just didn’t want to talk about it. So that was that. If you’ll excuse me now, Miss Drew. . .”
One of his aides had just come up on the stage after dealing with the police and reporters. Nancy realized she would learn nothing more at this time from Jack Vernon, so she wished him luck and promised to come to his next rally. “And please believe me,” the teenage sleuth added, “I only want to help Kim!”
Because of the disturbance, the rally had ended early. When Nancy looked at her wristwatch under the streetlight, she noted that it was barely nine o’clock. She unlocked her car and drove home thoughtfully, pondering on who might have been behind the hecklers. She was inclined to agree with Jack Vernon that the troublemaking had been too well organized to be accidental.
The phone was ringing as Nancy walked in the door. She answered and heard Tad Farr’s voice.
“Sorry to be calling so late,” he apologized. “I’m on duty. This coffee break is the first chance I’ve had to ring you up.”
“I’m glad you did,” Nancy said. “I was trying to reach you earlier. How is your mother?”
“Not too well, I guess. The doctor will only allow me short visits. He thinks she’s had too much excitement.”
“Oh? What happened?”
The young officer explained that he had tried to continue Nancy’s method of spelling out words by reciting the alphabet and having his mother blink when he came to the right letter. But the doctor intervened, feeling she was becoming tired and overexcited from the nervous strain and concentration
required. “He gave her a sedative,” Tad concluded, “and that’s when he restricted my visiting time.”
“Were you able to make anything of her message?” Nancy asked. “Or at least what she spelled out?”
“Not much. All I got was ‘That girl’ and then the letters G – O –L – F- E .” Tad broke off as he heard Nancy’s gasp of excitement. “Does that mean anything?” he inquired.
“You bet it does!” Nancy related her visit to the television station on Sunday afternoon after leaving the hospital, then went on, “If my guess is right, your mother was probably trying to say, ‘That girl golfer, Kim Vernon’!”
Tad Farr sounded bewildered. “But why?” he asked. “What could Mom possibly want to tell us about her?”
“Has she ever met Kim Vernon?”
“Not that I know of.”
Nancy was silent for a moment. She could not believe that her hunch was wrong about Maggie Farr’s message being in some way related to the news flash that had been broadcast while she was watching television. The coincidence was just too great! But what was the connection? Perhaps the answer lay somewhere in the past.
“Has your mother always been a scrubwoman, Tad?” she asked.
“Oh, no. Just for the last couple of years. Before that, she worked as a waitress. And at one time Mom was a dresser for that famous opera star, Madame Arachne Onides.”
“Arachne?!” A burst of light seemed to flash in Nancy’s brain.
“Yes, it’s a Greek name, I guess,” said the young subway policeman. “Why? Is that important?”
“Oh, Tad! It may be very important!” she cried.
“How come?”
“Haven’t you ever heard that old myth?”
“What old myth?”
“In Greek legend, Arachne was the name of a woman who was turned into a spider!”
6. A Famous Crime
“As a matter of fact,” Nancy went on excitedly, “I believe the word for ‘spider’ in Modern Greek is still ‘arachne’! And that’s also why scientists who specialize in the study of spiders are called arachnologists!”