The Hidden Staircase by Carolyn Keene Page B

it to the police.”
    Nancy said nothing. She was reluctant to give up even trying to do something, but she acqui esced.
    “In the meantime,” said the officer, “I’d advise you to remain at Twin Elms and concentrate on solving the mystery there. From what you tell me about your father, I’m sure he’ll be able to get out of the difficulty himself, even before the police find him.”
    Aloud, Nancy promised to stay on call in case Captain Rossland might need her. But in her own mind the young sleuth determined that if she got any kind of a lead concerning her father, she was most certainly going to follow it up.
    Nancy left police headquarters and strolled up the street, deep in thought. “Instead of things getting better, all my problems seem to be getting worse. Maybe I’d better call Hannah.”
    Since she had been a little girl, Nancy had found solace in talking to Hannah Gruen. The housekeeper had always been able to give her such good advice!
    Nancy went into a drugstore and entered one of the telephone booths. She called the Drew home in River Heights and was pleased when Mrs. Gruen answered. The housekeeper was aghast to learn Nancy’s news but said she thought Captain Rossland’s advice was sound.
    “You’ve given the police the best leads in the world and I believe that’s all you can do. But wait—” the housekeeper suddenly said. “If I were you, Nancy, I’d call up those railroad lawyers and tell them exactly what has happened. Your father’s disappearance is directly concerned with that bridge project, I’m sure, and the lawyers may have some ideas about where to find him.”
    “That’s a wonderful suggestion, Hannah,” said Nancy. “I’ll call them right away.”
    But when the young detective phoned the railroad lawyers, she was disappointed to learn that all the men were out to lunch and none of them would return before two o’clock.
    “Oh dear!” Nancy sighed. “Well, I guess I’d better get a snack while waiting for them to come back.” But in her worried state she did not feel like eating.
    There was a food counter at the rear of the drugstore and Nancy made her way to it. Perching on a high-backed stool, she read the menu over and over. Nothing appealed to her. When the counterman asked her what she wanted, Nancy said frankly she did not know—she was not very hungry.
    “Then I recommend our split-pea soup,” he told her. “It’s homemade and out of this world.”
    Nancy smiled at him. “I’ll take your advice and try it.”
    The hot soup was delicious. By the time she had finished it, Nancy’s spirits had risen considerably.
    “And how about some custard pie?” the counter-man inquired. “It’s just like Mother used to make.”
    “All right,” Nancy answered, smiling at the solicitous young man. The pie was ice cold and proved to be delicious. When Nancy finished eating it, she glanced at her wrist watch. It was only one-thirty. Seeing a rack of magazines, she decided to while away the time reading in her car.
    She purchased a magazine of detective stories, one of which proved to be so intriguing that the half hour went by quickly. Promptly at two o’clock Nancy returned to the phone booth and called the offices of the railroad lawyers. The switchboard operator connected her with Mr. Anthony Barradale and Nancy judged from his voice that he was fairly young. Quickly she told her story.
    “Mr. Drew being held a prisoner!” Mr. Barradale cried out. “Well, those underhanded property owners are certainly going to great lengths to gain a few dollars.”
    “The police are working on the case, but I thought perhaps your firm would like to take a hand also,” Nancy told the lawyer.
    “We certainly will,” the young man replied. “I’ll speak to our senior partner about it. I know he will want to start work at once on the case.”
    “Thank you,” said Nancy. She gave the address and telephone number of Twin Elms and asked that the lawyers get in touch with her