"Only that a police guard named Tom Patrick is on duty," Nancy answered.
As soon as breakfast was over, the young sleuth announced that she was about to investigate all the outbuildings on the estate.
"I'm going to search for an underground passage leading to the mansion. It's just possible that we hear no hollow sounds when we tap the walls, because of double doors or walls where the entrance is."
Aunt Rosemary looked at Nancy intently. "You are a real detective, Nancy. I see now why Helen wanted us to ask you to find our ghost."
Nancy's eyes twinkled. "I may have some instinct for sleuthing," she said, "but unless I can solve this mystery, it won't do any of us much good."
Turning to Helen, she suggested that they put on the old clothes they had brought with them.
Attired in sport shirts and jeans, the girls left the house. Nancy led the way first to the old icehouse. She rolled back the creaking, sliding door and gazed within. The tall, narrow building was about ten feet square. On one side were a series of sliding doors, one above the other.
"I've heard Miss Flora say," Helen spoke up, "that in days gone by huge blocks of ice were cut from the river when it was frozen over and dragged here on a sledge. The blocks were stored here and taken off from the top down through these various sliding doors."
"That story rather rules out the possibility of any underground passage leading from this building," said Nancy. "I presume there was ice in here most of the year."
The floor was covered with dank sawdust, and although Nancy was sure she would find nothing of interest beneath it, still she decided to take a look. Seeing an old, rusted shovel in one corner, she picked it up and began to dig. There was only dirt beneath the sawdust.
"Well, that clue fizzled out," Helen remarked, as she and Nancy started for the next building.
This had once been used as a smokehouse. It, too, had an earthen floor. In one corner was a small fireplace, where smoldering fires of hickory wood had once burned. The smoke had curled up a narrow chimney to the second floor, which was windowless.
"Rows and rows of huge chunks of pork hung up there on hooks to be smoked," Helen explained, "and days later turned into luscious hams and bacon."
There was no indication of a secret opening and Nancy went outside the small, two-story, peak-roofed structure and walked around. Up one side of the brick building and leading to a door above were the remnants of a ladder. Now only the sidepieces which had held the rungs remained.
"Give me a boost, will you, Helen?" Nancy requested. "I want to take a look inside."
Helen squatted on the ground and Nancy climbed to her shoulders. Then Helen, bracing her hands against the wall,, straightened up. Nancy opened the half-rotted wooden door.
"No ghost here!" she announced.
Nancy jumped to the ground and started for the servants' quarters. But a thorough inspection of this brick-and-wood structure failed to reveal a clue to a secret passageway.
There was only one outbuilding left to investigate, which Helen said was the old carriage house. This was built of brick and was fairly large. No carriages stood on its wooden floor, but around the walls hung old harnesses and reins. Nancy paused a moment to examine one of the bridles. It was set with two hand-painted medallions of women's portraits.
Suddenly her reflection was interrupted by a scream. Turning, she was just in time to see Helen plunge through a hole in the floor. In a flash Nancy was across the carriage house and looking down into a gaping hole where the rotted floor had given way.
"Helen!" she cried out in alarm.
"I'm all right," came a voice from below. "Nice and soft down here. Please throw me your flash."
Nancy removed the flashlight from the pocket of her jeans and tossed it down.
"I thought maybe I'd discovered something," Helen said. "But this is just a plain old hole. Give me a hand, will you, so I can climb up?"
Nancy lay flat on the floor and with one arm grabbed a supporting beam that stood in the center of the carriage house. Reaching down with the other arm, she assisted Helen in her ascent.
"We'd better watch our step around here," Nancy said as her friend once more stood beside her.
"You're so right," Helen agreed, brushing dirt off her jeans. Helen's plunge had given Nancy an idea that there might be other openings in the floor and that one of them could be an entrance to a subterranean passage. But though she flashed her light over every inch of the carriage-house floor, she could discover nothing suspicious.
"Let's quit!" Helen suggested. "I'm a mess, and besides, I'm hungry."
"All right," Nancy agreed. "Are you game to search the cellar this afternoon?"
"Oh, sure."
After lunch they started to investigate the storerooms in the cellar. There was a cool stone room where barrels of apples had once been kept. There was another, formerly filled with bags of whole-wheat flour, barley, buckwheat, and oatmeal.
"And everything was grown on the estate," said Helen.
"Oh, it must have been perfectly wonderful," Nancy said. "I wish we could go back in time and see how life was in those days!"
"Maybe if we could, we'd know how to find that ghost," Helen remarked. Nancy thought so too.
As the girls went from room to room in the cellar, Nancy beamed her flashlight over every inch of wall and floor. At times, the young sleuth's pulse would quicken when she thought she had discovered a trap door or secret opening. But each time she had to admit failure—there was no evidence of either one in the cellar.
"This has been a discouraging day," Nancy remarked, sighing. "But I'm not giving up."
Helen felt sorry for her friend. To cheer Nancy, she said with a laugh, "Storeroom after storeroom but no room to store a ghost!"
Nancy had to laugh, and together the two girls ascended the stairway to the kitchen. After changing their clothes, they helped Aunt Rosemary prepare the evening dinner. When the group had eaten and later gathered in the parlor, Nancy reminded the others that she expected her father to arrive the next day.
"Dad didn't want me to bother meeting him, but I just can't wait to see him. I think I'll meet all the trains from Chicago that stop here."
"I hope your father will stay with us for two or three days," Miss Flora spoke up. "Surely he'll have some ideas about our ghost."
"And good ones, too," Nancy said. "If he's on the early train, he'll have breakfast with us. I'll meet it at eight o'clock."
But later that evening Nancy's plans were suddenly changed. Hannah Gruen telephoned her to say that a man at the telegraph office had called the house a short time before to read a message from Mr. Drew. He had been unavoidably detained and would not arrive Wednesday.
"In the telegram your father said that he will let us know when he will arrive," the housekeeper added.
"I'm disappointed," Nancy remarked, "but I hope this delay means that Dad is on the trail of Willie Wharton!"
"Speaking of Willie Wharton," said Hannah, "I heard something about him today."
"What was that?" Nancy asked.
"That he was seen down by the river right here in River Heights a couple of days ago!"
CHAPTER IXA Worrisome Delay
"You say Willie Wharton was seen in River Heights down by the river?" Nancy asked unbelievingly.
"Yes," Hannah replied. "I learned it from our postman, Mr. Ritter, who is one of the people that sold property to the railroad. As you know, Nancy, Mr. Ritter is very honest and reliable. Well, he said he'd heard that some of the property owners were trying to horn in on this deal of Willie Wharton's for getting more money. But Mr. Ritter wouldn't have a thing to do with it—calls it a holdup."