(#15) The Haunted Bridge by Carolyn Keene Read Free Book Online

choked with weeds, but the vestiges of a rose garden remained.
    There was a huge pile of debris in the very center of the clearing. A charred pillar and several half-burned timbers rose from it. Little else remained of the pretentious mansion.
    “Is this what we’ve come to see?” Bess asked in disgust.
    “What did you expect—that some genie had restored the house?” George replied.
    Nancy said nothing. It had not occurred to her that the Judson fire had been so devastating. She had hoped the charred remains would yield a clue, such as a photograph, to connect some member of the family with the mysterious brass chest. Observing Nancy’s look of disappointment, her friends shrewdly guessed that she had not told them everything.
    “Do you know anything more about Miss Judson?” Bess asked curiously.
    “Chris told me she’s a young woman who has had a tragic life.”
    “I don’t see how you hope to connect her with the brass chest,” George remarked.
    Nancy smiled. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more until Dad gives me permission. I can see there’s nothing to find here, so let’s start back to the hotel.”
    Bess and George did not urge their friend to reveal her secret because of her promise to her father. Few words were exchanged as the three friends made their way laboriously back to the ravine.
    Nancy was absorbed with her own thoughts. Could Margaret Judson be a member of the international gang of jewel thieves?
    “No, not if I’m any judge of character. She just didn’t look like the type,” Nancy reflected.
    Her thoughts were interrupted as a shrill scream broke the stillness. The three girls stopped abruptly.
    “There it is again!” Bess murmured apprehensively, clutching Nancy’s hand. “That awful scream!”
    The girls waited a moment, listening, but the noise was not repeated.
    “I’d certainly like to find out who or what is making that sound,” said Nancy.
    “I’m not sure I would,” said George.
    “It’s all part of the ravine mystery,” Nancy remarked, “but how does it figure in?”
    The girls went on. Presently they reached the dividing point of the two trails. Nancy’s gaze roved down the path along the ravine.
    “I think the sound came from that direction,” she said firmly. “Let’s investigate—”
    “Not me,” Bess cried, grasping Nancy’s arm. “I’ve had enough adventure for one day, thank you.”
    Nancy’s protests were overruled, and she was fairly pulled along toward the haunted bridge. One at a time the girls crossed it and retraced their steps toward the golf course.
    To keep out of the way of players who might be coming down the fairway, Nancy and her friends walked within the fringe of woods. Now and then they could hear voices and knew that a match was being played somewhere nearby.
    Suddenly an object came whizzing through the air, striking a tree not more than a dozen yards from where the girls were walking. It was a golf ball and landed squarely behind another tree.
    “Someone will have a mean shot to play,” Nancy remarked. “Let’s duck out of sight and watch.”
    The girls had just hidden behind some trees when Martin Bartescue entered the woods. He was muttering to himself, savagely berating “his luck.” The man hunted among the shrubbery for a few minutes and finally came upon his ball.
    “Never mind, caddy,” the girls heard him shout. “I’ve found it.”
    Satisfied that no one was watching, he took an iron club and deftly raked the ball from the hollow spot in which it had lodged. Now, with it lying in an unobstructed path to the fairway, he played a clean shot out of the woods.
    “Did you see that?” Nancy whispered in great disgust. “He cheated!”

CHAPTER VIII
    The Gardener’s Scare
     
     
     
     
    “SOMEONE should report Barty to the golf committee,” Bess declared angrily. “The nerve of him to move his ball!”
    “He ought to be barred from further competition,” George added.
    “I agree,” Nancy