Stealing quietly into the living room, Nancy Drew paused at the foot of the stairway. Although eager to find out what Jacob Aborn was doing on the floor above, she told herself that it would be rash to follow him there. While she was debating what to do, she heard a creaking of boards and realized that the man was coming back.

Hastily ducking down out of sight behind the davenport, she waited. She was no longer afraid she would be discovered, for she had noticed that Jacob Aborn was too absorbed in his own plans to be observant. If she kept perfectly quiet she did not believe that she would be detected.

The man came slowly down the stairs, dragging two heavy suitcases. Dropping them upon the living-room floor, he opened the lids and surveyed the contents critically.

His back was to the davenport, and Nancy daringly peeped out. She saw that the suitcases were packed with wearing apparel. However, it was not the clothing, but rather a gruesome object on top of one of the bags that held her attention. Jacob Aborn carried a weapon, and a wicked looking one at that! Nancy Drew shuddered and almost regretted that she had not escaped when it was possible.

Fastening down the covers of the luggage, Jacob Aborn locked the suitcases and strapped them.

“There, that job is done,” he muttered when he had finished. “Nothing like being prepared. They’ll never catch Stumpy asleep!”

The name burned itself into Nancy Drew’s brain. Stumpy! What could it mean? He had called himself by a name which was suggestive of the underworld. As Nancy stared at him she became convinced that he was a professional crook. Laura was indeed under the control of a dangerous guardian!

Her reflections were cut short when Jacob Aborn placed the suitcases against the wall and turned toward a small safe in one corner of the room. In amazement, Nancy watched him work at the dial. After he had made several unsuccessful attempts to open the door, it finally swung open.

With a grunt of satisfaction, the man removed several packages of bank bills. His eyes became greedy and gloating as he gazed upon the money.

Nancy had no way of telling the denomination of the bills, but she felt certain that Jacob Aborn held a small fortune in his hands. Where had he secured the money and what did he mean to do with it?

“I may as well leave it here until tomorrow,” the man grunted.

He placed the neat packages of money back in the safe and, closing the heavy door, turned the dial. Then with a tired yawn, he moved toward the stairway.

“Guess I’ll turn in. Got to be up early tomorrow.”

He climbed the stairs, carrying the light with him. Nancy heard him enter a bedroom and slam the door. Soon the house became quiet.

Slipping noiselessly from her hiding place, Nancy Drew tiptoed toward the kitchen. Due to an oversight, the back door had been left unlocked and opened readily. With a sigh of relief that she at last had escaped unharmed from the house, Nancy stepped out into the night.

It was very dark, for there was no moon. She crossed the clearing and rapidly set off through the forest, using her flashlight to guide her steps.

Her adventures were beginning to tire her and before she knew it she took a wrong path and presently brought up in the midst of some bushes and rocks.

“My gracious, this isn’t right!” she told herself. “Why, I really believe I’ve lost myself.”

She turned the flashlight downward and saw before her a spring of water. A tin cup was on a nearby rock.

“Well, anyway, here’s where I can get a drink,” she told herself. “And goodness knows I’m thirsty enough.”

The water was clear and cool and the drink refreshed Nancy very much. Placing the cup where she had found it, she retraced her steps and after a few minutes of walking found the spot where she had gone wrong. With more care she set off through the forest. It was dark and silent, and she could not repress a feeling of intense loneliness as she proceeded.

A few minutes later she reached the roadster which she had hidden behind a clump of bushes. As she climbed in and sank back against the cushions, she considered her next move. Until now, she had had no time to work out a plan of action.

Of one thing she was certain. Jacob Aborn was a criminal. She was convinced that he intended to run away from Melrose Lake, for otherwise he would not have packed his suitcases. Undoubtedly, he intended to take the money which was in the safe with him. Nancy had no proof that it did not belong to him, but in her mind there was a growing suspicion that he might have stolen it from Laura Pendleton’s estate.

“At least he won’t try to get away tonight,” she reasoned, “because he’s gone to bed. And he said something about needing that bundle of food tomorrow.”

Nancy was at a loss to know what to do next. Although convinced that Jacob Aborn was a criminal, she was well aware that she had no evidence against him. In court it would merely be her word against his, and if it came to that, she would be embarrassed to explain her presence in the house.

“I must get definite proof,” she thought.

Groping for an idea, she again thought of the old bungalow in the woods.

“I’m sure it has some connection with the mystery,” she reasoned. “While Jacob Aborn is out of the way, I’ll do a little sleuthing.”

To think was to act with Nancy Drew, and it required but a few minutes for her to drive the distance from Jacob Aborn’s residence to the deserted bungalow. Although the night was dark, she found the side road without difficulty.

Halting the car in the bushes, she picked up her flashlight and started toward the bungalow. Not without misgiving, she pushed through the forest.

“I hope my flashlight doesn’t play out,” she worried. “I’ll never find the bungalow if it does.”

There was no path leading through the woods, but Nancy was fairly certain of her directions. Soon she stepped out into a tiny clearing, and, directly ahead, saw the old bungalow.

Hurrying across the open space, she paused in front of the building. It was dark and silent, but as she gazed upon it an uneasy feeling took possession of her. Her inner self seemed to warn her not to enter the bungalow.

“This is no time to hesitate,” she told herself sternly. “If Jacob Aborn is to be caught, I must gather my evidence tonight. Tomorrow he may skip out.”

As Nancy moved toward the rear of the bungalow, she glanced down at her flashlight and was alarmed to see that it was beginning to grow dim.

“Just my luck to have it go out when I need it the most!” she thought in disgust.

In an attempt to save the battery, she switched off the light. As her eyes became accustomed to the dark, she was able to see a little. Nancy was determined to effect an entrance, but just how it could be accomplished she did not know.

A tour of the bungalow revealed that all of the doors were locked. This she had expected. The boards had fallen from one of the windows⁠—the one through which she had peered that afternoon when surprised by Laura’s guardian. However, the window was high above her head, and even if she stood on a box, she doubted that she could raise herself to the ledge.

Undaunted, she examined the other windows, and on the south side of the bungalow found one which opened from a porch. It was boarded up, and her efforts to dislodge the barrier were futile.

Resistance only whetted Nancy Drew’s desire to enter the bungalow, and at once she began searching the yard for something with which to pry. After an unsuccessful hunt, she was forced to switch on her flashlight for a few minutes, until she found a stout stick which would serve her purpose.

Wedging it in between the boards, she pried with all her might. For a moment, the first board offered stubborn resistance, and then, with a groan and a squeak, gave way. The remaining boards were removed with less difficulty.

To Nancy’s joy, the window was unlocked. Pushing it up, she peered into the living room. It was dark and she could see nothing.

“Well, here’s for it!” she decided fatalistically.

Halfway through the window, she hesitated without knowing just why she did it. Nervously, she glanced back over her shoulder. A queer sensation passed over her, leaving her a trifle frightened. She felt exactly as though someone were following her.

“How silly!” she scolded herself.

Nevertheless, she turned searching eyes toward the forest. So far as she could see there was no one in sight. Nancy listened intently, but all that she heard was the whispering of the wind in the maple trees.

“Nerves,” she decided firmly. “Jacob Aborn won’t bother me tonight. He’s probably asleep at this minute.”

She swung herself through the window and switched on her flashlight. She stood in the living room, or such she judged it to be, for it was bare of furniture.

“Nothing here!” Nancy told herself.

Hastily she moved toward the next room. Her light was gradually growing dimmer, and she knew that she must work quickly unless she wished to be left in total darkness.

She entered a smaller room. Flashing the beam of her light over the walls and floor, she was disappointed to find nothing of interest.

Nancy was sorely perplexed. In visiting the deserted bungalow she had played a hunch, and now it seemed that she had made a mistake.

“I haven’t seen it all yet,” she encouraged herself.

Then her light revealed a small door, and she moved curiously over toward it. Halfway across the room, an unusual sound arrested her attention. Had she heard a board creak behind her or was it only imagination?

After hesitating a second, Nancy Drew again started toward the door. As she reached out to grasp the knob, her body became tense.

This time there was no mistake. She heard a peculiar sound which seemed to come from the floor.

“It sounded like a groan,” was the thought which flashed through her mind.

Was it possible that someone was imprisoned in the cellar? The fear that some person was in distress gave her the courage to open the door.

As it swung back, she saw before her a long flight of stone stairs leading down into darkness. A gust of cold, musty air struck her in the face and momentarily repulsed her.

Nancy glanced nervously at her flashlight. She told herself that the battery could not last much longer. Already the light was so dim that she could barely see the steps in front of her. Should she investigate the cellar? She had no idea what it might reveal, and the thought of being caught below without a light sent a cold shiver over her.

Yet, Nancy felt that she was about to stumble upon the real secret of the old bungalow, and the thrill of anticipated victory urged her forward. Cautiously, she descended the steps, one at a time.

She came to a sharp turn and peered anxiously down into the black abyss.

To her horror she saw a man stretched out full length upon a bench directly below her. His face was turned upward and Nancy caught a full glimpse of the countenance.

It was Jacob Aborn!