The Hidden Staircase

“I declare, I don’t know what makes me so nervous this afternoon! I have the strangest feeling⁠—just as though something were about to happen.”

As Nancy Drew expressed the thought aloud, she tossed aside a book she had been trying to read and restlessly crossed the living room to glance out of the window. She was alone in the big house, for her father, Carson Drew, had been called out of the city on an important law case and Hannah Gruen, the housekeeper, had taken her day off.

Usually, Nancy enjoyed a book, but on this particular afternoon she had been unable to interest herself in anything. For no apparent reason she felt nervous and uneasy.

As she stood at the window, her eyes rested for a moment upon an old-fashioned mantel clock above the fireplace. The timepiece aroused pleasant memories, for it had been given to her as a reward for her service in solving a baffling mystery. Nancy smiled.

“I know what’s the matter with me,” she told herself. “I’m aching for another adventure. That’s all the good it will do me, too!”

With a sigh of resignation, she again settled herself in a comfortable chair and took up her book. She had read scarcely a page when her attention was attracted by the sound of a heavy step on the front veranda.

The doorbell rang sharply. There was an electric something about the ring which was arresting, startling. Before Nancy could get up from the chair, the bell rang a second time.

As she entered the living room she saw that Abigail had another visitor.

“Rosemary, we were just speaking about Nancy Drew,” Miss Rowen said by way of introduction. “Well, here she is. One of the finest girls you ever set eyes on.” The old woman turned to Nancy. “I want you to meet my friend, Rosemary Turnbull. She came over from Cliffwood to see me today.”

Graciously, Nancy acknowledged the introduction. Rosemary Turnbull was an elderly maiden lady, tall and a trifle too thin, but not at all severe-looking in spite of her clothing. She wore an old-fashioned dress, long and wide of skirt and high in the neck, but she had a kind face, and Nancy was instantly attracted to her.

“Nancy is just the girl to help you out of your difficulties, Rosemary,” Abigail said significantly. “She helped me get my inheritance and I know she’ll help you if you ask her.”

“Certainly, I’ll help anyone I can,” Nancy agreed pleasantly. “What is it?”

“Well, I hardly know how to tell you,” Rosemary Turnbull began. She laughed unsteadily. “It seems I’m living in a haunted house.”

“A haunted house?” Nancy cried.

“Well, of course it isn’t really haunted. I don’t believe in ghosts and things like that.” She lowered her voice. “But the strangest things have been happening lately.”

“What sort of things?” Nancy asked, with interest.

“Mostly little things. But after a while they get on your nerves. You see, I live in an old stone house in Cliffwood⁠—”

“Oh, Rosemary,” she burst out, “why did you leave me here alone? I knew something terrible would happen!”

“Floretta, you⁠—you haven’t seen anything?” Rosemary demanded shakily.

“It’s my diamond bar pin! It’s gone!”

“Oh, Floretta, are you sure? Perhaps you misplaced it.”

“No, it’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere. Oh, what shall I do? I can’t bear to lose it!” Floretta turned and saw Nancy for the first time. She made a valiant attempt to compose herself. “I beg your pardon,” she said somewhat stiffly.

Rosemary introduced Nancy Drew and explained that the young girl had offered to help solve the baffling mystery.

“You’ve come just in time,” Floretta declared. “Oh, if only you can tell me what became of my bar pin! It was an heirloom. We’ve had it in the family for years.”

“When did you have it last?” Nancy asked quietly.

“Only this afternoon. I was dressing in my room and was just completing my toilet when I heard the iceman at the back door. I dropped my bar pin on the dresser and hurried downstairs to let him into the kitchen.”

“Were you gone long?” Nancy interrupted.

“Only a few minutes. Not more than ten at the most. When I came back my pin was gone!”

“Are you certain it didn’t drop to the floor, or perhaps fall behind the dresser?”

“Wonder what’s the matter with him now?” he asked himself curiously.

Nathan Gombet came straight toward him.

“Oh, Mr. Drew,” he cried as he came up, “I have terrible news! Your daughter has been injured! You must come quickly!”

“Nancy is hurt?” Mr. Drew grasped him roughly by the arm. “It can’t be!”

“She’s badly injured. But the doctors think she has a chance to pull through.”

“How horrible!” Carson Drew groaned.

“She’s calling for you. You must come quickly!”

“Take me to her!”

In his anxiety to reach the daughter he loved so dearly, Carson Drew became almost frantic.

“Here, jump in!” Gombet ordered.

He opened the front door of a battered auto which stood near the platform. Mr. Drew, bewildered and shocked from the crushing news, obeyed without question.

Gombet scrambled in after him. He took the wheel and with one quick glance about started off down the street.

The station on this side was practically deserted and no one saw the car depart.

“Where is Nancy?” Mr. Drew demanded.

“At my house.”

“At your house?” Mr. Drew asked, in surprise. “Didn’t they take her to a hospital?”

“She was too badly injured to be moved,” Nathan explained glibly.

A big owl, with spread wings and wicked glassy eyes, was less than three feet from her!

Only by rigid mental discipline did Nancy suppress a cry of fright. Then, as she continued to stare at the huge bird, she relaxed slightly.

The owl was stuffed! For a moment she had forgotten that Rosemary and Floretta had told her that Nathan Gombet was something of a taxidermist.

With misgiving, she flashed her light about. What she saw did not tend to lessen her terror. She stood in a room of birds!

“What a strange hobby,” Nancy shuddered.

Never had she seen such a collection. The room was crowded with pedestals upon which sat stuffed birds. From one corner, an eagle looked down upon her, and from another, an ugly vulture. There were several crows and odd specimens Nancy did not recognize.

It was a gruesome sight. She stared at the figures in fascination and horror, for in the semidarkness a score of glassy eyes seemed focused upon her.

Nancy’s first impulse was to back hastily from the room, but almost immediately she gained control of herself. She would not leave until she had discovered every secret of the old house!

As she moved her light about, she saw that there were live birds in the room also. Golden canaries in gilded cages! They seemed strangely out of keeping with the ugly stuffed specimens about the walls and upon the pedestals. There were dozens of the little yellow birds, and as a beam from the flashlight struck the cages, they aroused sleepily on their perches and began to chirp and twitter.