The Secret in the Old Lace Read Free Page A

staring at the front right wheel of Nancy’s car. The tire was slowly going flat!
    “What a shame!” Bess remarked.
    “Who was that guy anyway?” George asked.
    “I’m pretty sure it was Matey Johnson. I didn’t get much of a look at him at the house but I recognized his reddish-blond hair.”
    While Nancy removed a tire inflator from her trunk and hooked it to the wheel, she listened quietly as her friends discussed the latest event.
    “Why would Matey Johnson let air out of Nancy’s tire?” Bess asked her cousin.
    “Obviously he wanted to stall us here for a while,” George said.
    “Well, he sure accomplished that,” Nancy sighed, watching the air-pressure gauge slowly creep higher.
    “You don’t suppose,” Bess suggested, “that he’s planning to go back to your house?”
    “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Nancy said. “If only I could speed up the air pump!”
    At last the tire was mended. “Keep an eye on everything,” the girl detective told the cousins. “I’m going to phone Hannah.”
    Nancy disappeared into the restaurant again to use the public telephone. In less than five minutes she returned with a glum expression on her face.
    “What’s the matter?” Bess asked.
    “Nobody’s home.”
    “Uh-oh,” George commented. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a River Heights patrol car cruising toward them. “Isn’t that Chief McGinnis?” she said.
    Nancy waved frantically to him, calling at the same time, “Chief! Chief McGinnis!”
    The young police officer at the wheel swung the car behind Nancy’s and his superior stepped out.
    “What happened?” Chief McGinnis inquired, gazing at the tire. “Did you pick up a nail?”
    Quickly Nancy explained, adding her fear that Matey Johnson might be on his way to her house to steal something important.
    “In that case,” the chief said, nodding to the other policeman, “you stay here with the girls. I’ll drive Nancy home.”
    Nancy gave George the keys to her car and slipped her registration in the glove compartment. When she and Chief McGinnis presently pulled into her driveway, the girl flew to the front door past the ladder which was now standing up against the house again. She fumbled for her key, opened the door, and ran upstairs.
    “It’s gone!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Chief, the letter I told you about is gone!”
    “Are you sure?” the man replied as he reached the landing.
    Nancy sorted nervously through numerous papers on her desk, opened all the drawers, and peered behind and under the furniture. There was no sign of Madam Chambray’s letter.
    “What about your manuscript?” the police chief said.
    “Oh, I put that in the hall closet,” Nancy said. “Let me check.” She hurried downstairs and opened the closet door.
    “Oh, good!” she cried out. “It’s still here!”
    Chief McGinnis had followed her. “The thief couldn’t find it,” he deduced.
    Nancy nodded. “Matey Johnson must have looked for it in my room. But Hannah brought it down here and I put it away before we went out to lunch. ”
    “Nancy,” the police officer said, “I’d like to caution you about one thing. Even though you saw Johnson deflating your tire, you don’t have any proof he burglarized this house. ”
    The girl detective agreed. “But I have an idea. The ladder you saw downstairs was moved by somebody. I’m going to check it for fingerprints. If they all belong to Matey—”
    Her voice faded as she took a fingerprint kit from a desk drawer and went outside with the chief.
    “You know, Nancy,” he said, smiling, “I don’t think I’ve ever watched you lift fingerprints!”
    “Any chance I can work on the force?” Nancy said impishly, removing a can of spray powder from the kit.
    “Just let me know when you’re ready!”
    The young detective dusted parts of the ladder with powder, then pressed rubberized lifting tape over the latent prints. She peeled off the tape with the powder on it, and sealed