Part 2 (2/2)
”Where is my friend's picture?” inquired George, referring to Nancy.
The photographer returned to the darkroom for it. When Nancy glanced at the wet plate, she inhaled sharply. Just beneath her photograph were the words: Beware your client's request.
”Spirit writing!” Bess gasped.
”Yes, a message from someone in the other world is warning you not to go on with your work,” the photographer said slowly, with emphasis on the word ”warning.” ”Young lady, do not take the warning lightly.”
”No, I won't,” said Nancy.
She had just glimpsed in the photographer's darkroom the woman they had seen on the plane! The next instant the door closed, and the lights in the studio went out. The room, with its one window heavily curtained, was in complete darkness.
A chill breeze suddenly wafted into the studio. Nancy felt a clammy hand brush across her face and fumble for her throat!
CHAPTER IV.
A Strange Adventure BESS screamed in terror. George, with more presence of mind, groped along the wall until she found a light switch she had noticed earlier. In another moment the room was bright again.
Both girls gasped in horror at what they saw. On the floor, almost at their feet, lay the photographer, unconscious! Bess started toward the man, but checked herself as George demanded: ”Where's Nancy?”
Their friend had vanished from the studio!
In their alarm, the cousins temporarily forgot the photographer. Frantically they ran into the darkroom, then into an adjoining kitchenette.
”Nancy!” George shouted. ”Where are you?”
There was no answer.
”Nancy's gone and that photographer isn't regaining consciousness,” Bess wailed. ”What shall we do?”
”We must call the police,” George decided.
Rus.h.i.+ng out of the studio and down the iron steps, the girls ran through the deserted courtyard to the street. Fortunately, a policeman was less than half a block away. Hurrying up to him, George and Bess gasped out their story.
Immediately the patrolman accompanied the girls to the studio. As they entered, the photographer stirred slightly and sat up.
”What happened?” he mumbled.
”That's what we want to know,” demanded the policeman. ”What goes on here?”
”I was showing these girls a plate I'd just developed, when the lights went out. Something struck me on the head. That's all I remember.”
”What became of the girl with us?” Bess asked.
The photographer, pulling himself on to a couch, gazed at her coldly and shrugged.
”How should I know?” he retorted.
”And where is the plate with the writing on it?” George suddenly demanded.
”The spirits must have been angry and taken it,” the photographer said. ”I've known them to do worse things than that.”
The policeman appeared to be skeptical. He searched the building thoroughly, but no trace of Nancy or of the missing plate could be found.
Worried over Nancy's safety, and scarcely knowing what to do, Bess and George demanded the arrest of the photographer. The policeman, however, pointed out that they had no evidence against the photographer.
”Now don't you worry, young ladies. Your friend can't be far away. We'll have some detectives on the job right away. But I'll have to ask you to step around to the precinct station and give us a description of Nancy Drew.”
Shortly afterward, Bess and George, considerably shaken, returned to their hotel. There, nervously pacing the floor, they debated whether to send a wire to River Heights.
”If Nancy doesn't show up in another half hour, we'd better notify Mr. Drew,” Bess quavered. ”To tell the truth, I'm so scared-”
”Listen !” George commanded.
Footsteps had sounded in the corridor, and now the door of the suite was opening. The two girls waited tensely. Nancy tottered in. Her hair was disheveled and her clothing wrinkled and soiled. Wearily she threw herself on the bed.
She greeted them with a wan smile. ”h.e.l.lo.”
Bess and George ran to her solicitously. ”Are you all right? What happened?”
Nancy told them how the hand had clutched at her throat when the lights went out in the studio.
”I tried to scream and couldn't. I was lifted bodily and carried out of the room.”
”Where?” George asked.
”I couldn't see. A cold, wet cloth was clapped over my face. I was taken to the bas.e.m.e.nt of a vacant house not far away and left there, bound hand and foot.”
”How did you get away?” George questioned.
”I kept working until I was able to wriggle out of the cords. Then I climbed through a window and came straight here.”
”Did you get the number of the house?” asked George. ”I think we should get a policeman and investigate.”
Nancy nodded. ”We'll go to the police station as soon as I have a bath and change my clothes.”
While Nancy was dressing, the girls discussed their recent experiences. George and Nancy were equally sure the photographer had resorted to trickery in putting the message on the plate.
”He could do it easily,” George argued. ”Maybe he used a plate which already had been exposed to the printed words.”
”I believe there's more to it than that, George,” Nancy told her. ”I think the woman who spoke to us on the plane figures in it. I saw her at the studio,” Nancy disclosed. ”I'm convinced the photographer was part of a scheme and only pretended to be knocked unconscious. We must get that plate with the message on it.”
”It's gone,” said George.
This news added to Nancy's suspicions about the whole adventure. As soon as she was dressed, the girls returned to the police station, and an officer was a.s.signed to accompany them. A careful search was made of the vacant building where Nancy had been imprisoned, but not a clue could be found. Even the cords which had bound her had disappeared.
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