(#29) Mystery at the Ski Jump by Carolyn Keene

Author:Carolyn Keene [Keene, Carolyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-11-14T18:47:12+00:00

CHAPTER XI

The Password

“WELL, here he is, Miss Drew!”

A big policeman thrust his prisoner through the open door of Nancy’s dressing room.

“We’ve been watching for this fellow ever since you warned us that he might try to make a get-away,” the officer went on. “He denies everything.”

“Of course I deny it,” the prisoner snarled, twisting away from his captor’s grasp and glaring at Nancy. “My name is Jacques Fremont. I’m a respectable citizen of Canada, and I never heard of R. I. Channing!”

The man was bluffing, Nancy felt sure. The tall, muscular body, the touch of gray at his temples—both tallied with the description of Mitzi’s husband that Dr. Britt’s nurse had given.

“I suppose you never heard of Mitzi Adele, either?” Nancy asked.

For an instant the man looked startled. Then his eyes met Nancy’s in a glare of hate. “No, I never heard of her, either,” he sneered. “See here, Officer, this is outrageous. I have an identification. Here’s my driver’s license. It’ll show that I’m Jacques Fremont.”

The policeman looked at the license in the man’s wallet, then nodded. “Everything seems to be in order,” he admitted. “I’m afraid that if you have no more proof than this, Miss Drew, we’ll have to let the man go.”

Nancy was taken aback. She was sure of her accusation. But there was nothing she could do but thank the officer for his trouble and watch as the man who called himself Jacques Fremont slammed angrily out the door.

“If only I weren’t in costume and could follow him!” Nancy sighed, then looked up in relief to see her father standing on the threshold.

“Congratulations, daughter!” Mr. Drew called. “I was never so surprised as when—”

Nancy did not let him finish. “Dad! Quick! That tall man you just passed—the one in the brown overcoat. Follow him!” she implored.

“But, Nancy—”

“I’m sure he’s R. I. Channing. I asked the police to stop him,” Nancy went on rapidly, “but Channing insisted his name is Jacques Fremont and they let him go. Oh, Dad, trail him, please!”

“All right, Nancy,” the lawyer agreed, dashing off.

Nancy had just put on her street clothes when Chuck Wilson knocked on her door. “I thought perhaps you’d like to go out somewhere for a late supper, Nancy,” he suggested. “After all that exercise, I’m hungry as a bear.”

“I’d like to,” Nancy replied. “But I must go to the hotel and see Dad as soon as he gets back. I’ll tell you what. Suppose you drive me there and we’ll have a bite in the coffee shop.”

Once they were in the car, Chuck Wilson glanced curiously at Nancy. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask why you were expecting the police?” he began. “You’ve shown me there are a number of things you don’t care to divulge.”

“I can tell you now,” Nancy replied. “I’m trying to catch a woman who stole my driver’s license and goes around using my name. This evening I tried to have the police arrest her husband. But the man was too clever and they had to release him.

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