10 Password to Larkspur Lane

CHAPTER X
An Unwelcome Gift
“You girls listen to me!” the old lady shouted.
“The house you want is over in the next
township, just outside of Milford. Go right
down Elm Road. You can’t miss it.”
The woman standing by the hedge shook her
head. “I never heard you mention that place
before, Mother.”
The old lady’s black eyes snapped. “I know
lots I don’t tell,” she said.
The girls thanked the two women and drove
off, excited at the lead. But as they neared the
small town of Milford, Bess looked worried.

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“I’m beginning to wish I’d stayed home,” she
said. “I really don’t want to meet any
kidnappers.”
“Now don’t be a snob,” George teased her
cousin.
“It’s all right for you to make jokes,” Bess
replied, “but I can’t help it if I’m not brave
like you two.”
Nancy smiled. “I can remember times on
some of my cases when you were way ahead
of us.”
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“I surprised myself,” Bess admitted.

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Nancy spotted the sign marking Elm Road
and turned into the narrow, treeless street.
“There it is!” exclaimed George. In the
middle of the block was a yard full of
bluebells.
“You mean there it isn’t,” Nancy said
gloomily as she pulled up in front of the white
cottage.
A faded sign BLUEBELL HOUSE hung by
the door. “No mansion, no fence, no gate!”
“But whoever lives here must be interested in
bluebells,” said Bess. “Maybe they could help
you.”
“Good idea,” Nancy said, and the three girls
went up the walk to the door.

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Their knock was answered by a thin, young
woman wearing an apron. “Hello, girls,” she
said cheerfully. “I guess you want to see the
china. Come on in!”
She walked quickly into a room off the hall,
beckoning them to follow. Nancy tried to
explain, but stopped short at the door of the
room. Shelves and tables were filled with
flowered china.
“All hand-painted,” the girl said. “The prices
are marked.”
“Oh, how beautiful!” Bess exclaimed.
While she and George looked around, Nancy
explained to the girl why they had called.

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“There’s no place like that around Milford,”
she said, “but have you tried the Brookdale
section west of River Heights? I’ve heard
there used to be lots of estates out that way.”
Nancy thanked her and Bess bought three
hand-painted cups and saucers.
“There’s one for each of us,” she said when
they reached the car. “A souvenir of a wild-
goose chase.”
“It may not have been so hopeless after all,”
said Nancy, and repeated what the girl had
said.
George looked thoughtful. “You told us Dr.
Spire rode about an hour to get to the house.

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Can’t we narrow the search by going only to
places that are about an hour from the road
where the old sedan was parked?”
“We could,” Nancy said. “But the chances are
that the kidnappers drove a little longer than
necessary just to confuse the doctor.”
George grinned. “Nancy, you never miss a
trick!”
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A further search continued for some time but
without success. Finally Bess reminded
Nancy of the dance that night. “We’d better
go home,” she advised.
Hours later Nancy was seated with Ned on a
bench outside the gaily lighted porch of the

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yacht club. Lively music and singing came
pulsing out the wide open doors and
windows.
“On a hunch I brought something for the
chemistry expert,” she said, and handed him
the envelope containing the bits of paper she
had picked up in the woods.
“I’m no expert,” he protested. Ned’s eyes
filled with mischief. “You don’t expect me to
look at this, do you, when I could be looking
at you?”
Nancy blushed and laughed. She was
wearing a simple rose-colored formal and her
hair was piled high with a gardenia tucked in
it.

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“Please be serious,” she said. “I have a hunch
that the burning circle is made of fireworks
which are carried by someone. I remembered
that you once helped make a fireworks
display at college.”
Ned spilled the bits of paper into his palm. He
looked at them carefully.
“Your hunch is right, Nancy. These are
fragments of quickmatch.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“The fuse which is used to light fireworks.”
He explained that it was a string coated with a
mixture of gunpowder and glue and enclosed
in a brown paper tube. “Then that’s attached
to the lances.”

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“And what are they?” Nancy queried.
“Paper tubes filled with chemical mixtures
which burn different colors. The circle you
saw is probably a wooden frame with long
nails sticking out of it about an inch apart.
“The lances are forced upright onto the points
of the nails. Then the quickmatch is nailed
across the tops of the lances. It’s rough to
do,” he added, “because the lances are very
hard, and many times the nail goes into your
finger instead. Well, does that help you?”
“Yes. If I can find out where the fireworks
were bought and by whom, I may have a
good lead.”
The rest of the evening was pure fun and
ended with supper on several of the members’

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yachts moored to the club’s dock. While
taking their dates home, the three boys invited
them to a swimming meet at the camp the
next afternoon and the invitation was
accepted.
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By one o’clock the girls were ready for bed.
Bess and George dropped off to sleep at
once, but Nancy lay awake. Suddenly she sat
up. There had been a noise downstairs.
Quickly she put on robe and slippers, then
grabbed a flashlight from her suitcase.
Slipping past her sleeping friends, Nancy
went quietly down the back stairs. At the
bottom she heard a scraping sound in the
utility room.

---

Softly she opened the door and flashed on her
light. Caught in the beam was a white-faced,
frightened figure on his hands and knees. He
looked up. The missing man!
“Morgan!” Nancy exclaimed. “What are you
doing? Where have you been?”
“I—I dropped the door key,” he stammered.
Nancy spotted the key and picked it up.
“Thank you. I was moving things, feeling
around for it. Sorry I disturbed you.”
“Morgan, we’ve been very worried about
you,” Nancy said. “Won’t you please tell me
what’s wrong?”

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“Nothing’s wrong!” the man said quickly.
“I’ll explain in the morning.”
He opened the door to his bedroom, stepped
inside, and locked the door behind him.
Nancy wondered if she should awaken her
hostess to report the servant’s return, but
decided against this.
In the morning, before breakfast, Mrs.
Corning told the girls Morgan had already
talked to her and her husband. She said he
had begged forgiveness, and had told a
rambling story about going to help a friend.
“I’m afraid it’s not true, but we don’t want to
discharge him.” She sighed, then said, “Here,
I almost forgot.”

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She handed Nancy the names of the three
persons who had written letters of
recommendation for the houseman.
“If you don’t mind,” said Nancy, “I’ll phone
these men after breakfast.”
An hour later she came down from the
second-floor phone and reported to the
Cornings in the living room.
“Well, what did they say?” asked the old
gentleman.
“None of these people ever heard of
Morgan.”
The couple sat thunderstruck.
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“Morgan!” Nancy exclaimed. “What are you
doing?”
“Then the letters were forged?” said Mrs.
Corning.
“I’m afraid so,” Nancy told her.
“Impossible!” snorted Mr. Coming. “I
remember talking to one of those men on the
telephone.”
“You must have spoken to an impostor,” said
Nancy.
“But—but why would Morgan do this?”
asked Mrs. Corning.
“Maybe his past made it impossible for him to
get recommendations any other way,” said

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Nancy. “Whoever helped him must feel he
has a hold over Morgan. Perhaps that is the
‘friend’ who has come back into his life.”
Mrs. Coming said presently, “Now that
Morgan has returned, maybe it’s all over.”
“I doubt it,” said Nancy. “He’s still
frightened.”
Her host spoke up. “Morgan’s always been
honest and a hard worker. I say we give him
another chance. Do you agree, Emily?”
His wife nodded. The girls said nothing.
After church and lunch Nancy looked
through the advertising pages of the telephone
directory for fireworks companies in the area,

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but found none. As she put the book away,
there was a sharp knock on the front door.
Nancy went to open it.
No one was there, but on the stoop was a
long, narrow parcel wrapped in brown paper.
It was addressed to Morgan. Suspicious,
Nancy went to tell the Comings about it.
“Under the circumstances,” she said, “would
you like to open this before Morgan does?”
“No,” her hostess said firmly. “I feel that
what’s Morgan’s business is his business.
Take the parcel to him, Nancy.”
With misgivings, she carried the package to
the kitchen and handed it to the houseman.
He stared at it and began to tremble. With
shaking fingers Morgan removed the string

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and paper. He seemed lost in thought and
unaware that Nancy was still in the room.
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When Morgan opened the paper and saw the
contents, his face turned white and he
suddenly slumped to the floor.
In the package lay a few stalks of blue
larkspur!

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