"He was a famous pirate," Nancy replied. "According to tradition, when burying treasure, he always murdered one of his band and left his ghost to guard the hidden loot!"
As the girls left the restaurant and started up the street, Nancy happened to turn around. Emerging from the door of the restaurant was a woman.
"Girls," Nancy said in a whisper, "don't look now, but the woman who was on the plane just came out of our restaurant. I think she was spying on us!"
"Why would she do that?" Bess asked.
"If she follows us, then I'll be convinced she's trying to find out what we're up to in New Orleans," Nancy replied.
To prove her point, the young sleuth turned down one street and up another. The woman did the same.
"I'm going to try something," Nancy said quietly. "Two can play this game."
It was easy for the girls to dodge into three different shops as they rounded another corner. Their pursuer, confused, stood on the sidewalk for several seconds, then turned and walked back in the direction from which she had come. Cautiously Nancy emerged, then Bess and George.
The girls trailed the woman for several blocks. Though there were many pedestrians on the street, they were able to keep their quarry in sight. Apparently she was in a hurry, for she walked quickly, not once slackening her pace. As they rounded a corner, she suddenly disappeared into an alley, Nancy darted forward, just in time to see the woman enter a building.
When she and her friends reached it, Bess was not in favor of continuing the search. Nancy insisted the place was innocent-looking enough, and walked through the open arch. In the distance the girls could hear low singing.
They proceeded down a dimly lighted hall, and in a moment the girls stood beside the door beyond which the singing was coming. A placard on it read: Church of Eternal Harmony.
Bess, intrigued, lost her fears and urged that they go inside. Nancy hesitated. At that moment the door opened. A man with long white hair and a beard invited them to enter.
"Our admission is reasonable," he said, smiling. "Only two dollars. If the spirit speaks, your questions will be answered."
Still Nancy hesitated. She realized now that a seance was going on inside. Having no desire to spend two dollars so foolishly, she was about to retreat, when Bess walked boldly into the room beyond. George followed, and Nancy was forced to go along.
After paying admission they seated themselves on a bench near the door. The singing had ceased, and as the girls' eyes grew accustomed to the dim lights, they could see that a number of people sat on benches scattered about the place.
On one wall hung a life-size portrait of a woman swathed in white veils up to her eyes. Long dark hair fell below her shoulders. Every face in the room was upturned, gazing at the portrait.
Presently the white-bearded man announced that all would have to help summon her spirit.
"Let us sit around this table," he intoned.
Bess stood up to go forward, but Nancy pulled her back to the bench. Several others in the room arose and seated themselves on chairs around an oblong table. The old man took his place at the head of it, his back against the wall, a few feet beyond the portrait.
"Let no one utter a sound," he requested.
Silence fell upon the room. Nancy strained her eyes toward the table, watching intently. The white-bearded man sat perfectly still, looking straight ahead of him. Presently a smile flickered over his face.
"I feel the spirits approaching," he said in a scarcely audible voice.
The words were hardly out of his mouth when three raps were heard. The old man, looking pleased, interpreted the sounds as meaning, "I am here," and invited the participants to ask the spirit for answers to their problems. He explained that one rap would mean Yes, two No, and five would mean that danger lay ahead and the questioner should take every precaution to avoid it.
For several seconds no one spoke. The spirit gave three more sharp raps. Then, shyly, a woman at the table asked: "Will my child be ill long?"
There came two sharp raps, and the questioner gave a sigh of relief. Another silence followed. Nancy felt Bess lean forward. Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy had noted that her friend was completely entranced by what was going on. Realizing that Bess was about to ask a question, and fearful she might say something about Mrs. Putney's mystery, Nancy leaned over and whispered into her friend's ear: "Please don't say anything!"
"Silence!" ordered the old man at the table. "Do you wish to drive away our friendly spirit? Ill luck follows him who disturbs the work of the spirit."
As he spoke, the dim lights faded out. The room was in complete darkness.
Suddenly, on the wall above the portrait, a faint glow appeared. It grew larger, until the whole portrait seemed to be taking form. Bess and George, seated on either side of Nancy, huddled close to her.
Bess nervously clutched her friend's arm until Nancy winced from the pressure. The next moment the three girls gasped.
The portrait had come to life!
The white-bearded man arose from his chair.
"Good people," he said, "Amurah has come to us to speak. But she will answer only the most important questions. Approach no closer, or her lifelike spirit will vanish on the wind."
"Oh, Amurah, tell me, please," implored a young woman from a far corner of the room, "if Thomas comes back to me, shall I marry him?"
Amurah lowered her eyes, then nodded.
"Oh, thank you, thank you," the young woman exclaimed, delight in her voice.
Again Nancy could feel that Bess was about to ask a question. Quietly she laid a finger across the girl's lips. The light around the portrait began to fade.
"Alas, the spirits are leaving us!" the white-bearded medium interpreted.
A few seconds later the lights came on in the room. The old man, arising, made a low bow to the portrait, then announced he regretted that the spirits had not been able to remain long enough to answer the questions of all those present.
"Should you wish further knowledge," he said, "you may seek it from Norman Towner, a photographer, who has a direct connection with the spirit world. From time to time messages appear upon Mr. Towner's photographic plates."
The man ushered his clients from the room, but not before each of them had paused to look at Amurah. George had the temerity to touch the canvas. There was no question but that it was only a portrait. Upon reaching the street, the three girls paused.
"Wasn't it wonderful!" Bess exclaimed, adding that they should go at once to the studio of Norman Towner.
"Nonsense," George said. "You've already spent two dollars and got nothing for it."
"That's because Nancy wouldn't let me ask a question," Bess argued. "Maybe I'll get an answer when I have my picture taken."
To George's amazement, Nancy encouraged the visit. Not having seen the woman they had followed to the seance. Nancy felt she might have gone to the studio.
By inquiring for directions from pedestrians, the girls arrived at length at a courtyard entered by means of a long passageway. At one side of it a flight of iron stairs led to a carved door which bore the photographer's sign.
"Up we go!" George laughed, starting ahead.
The studio, though old and a bit shabby, was well furnished. The proprietor, a short man with intent dark eyes and an artist's beret cocked over one ear, appeared so unusually eager that the girls wondered if he had many customers.
Nancy inquired the cost of having individual photographs made. The price was reasonable, so the three friends decided upon separate poses.
After the pictures had been taken, the photographer disappeared into the darkroom. Soon he returned with two dripping plates. The pictures on them of George and Bess were excellent. To Bess's disappointment, however, not a trace of writing appeared on the glass.
"Where is my friend's picture?" inquired George, referring to Nancy.
The photographer returned to the darkroom for it. When Nancy glanced at the wet plate, she inhaled sharply. Just beneath her photograph were the words: Beware your client's request.
"Spirit writing!" Bess gasped.
"Yes, a message from someone in the other world is warning you not to go on with your work," the photographer said slowly, with emphasis on the word "warning." "Young lady, do not take the warning lightly."
"No, I won't," said Nancy.
She had just glimpsed in the photographer's darkroom the woman they had seen on the plane! The next instant the door closed, and the lights in the studio went out. The room, with its one window heavily curtained, was in complete darkness.
A chill breeze suddenly wafted into the studio. Nancy felt a clammy hand brush across her face and fumble for her throat!
CHAPTER IV.
A Strange Adventure BESS screamed in terror. George, with more presence of mind, groped along the wall until she found a light switch she had noticed earlier. In another moment the room was bright again.
Both girls gasped in horror at what they saw. On the floor, almost at their feet, lay the photographer, unconscious! Bess started toward the man, but checked herself as George demanded: "Where's Nancy?"
Their friend had vanished from the studio!
In their alarm, the cousins temporarily forgot the photographer. Frantically they ran into the darkroom, then into an adjoining kitchenette.
"Nancy!" George shouted. "Where are you?"
There was no answer.
"Nancy's gone and that photographer isn't regaining consciousness," Bess wailed. "What shall we do?"
"We must call the police," George decided.
Rushing out of the studio and down the iron steps, the girls ran through the deserted courtyard to the street. Fortunately, a policeman was less than half a block away. Hurrying up to him, George and Bess gasped out their story.
Immediately the patrolman accompanied the girls to the studio. As they entered, the photographer stirred slightly and sat up.
"What happened?" he mumbled.
"That's what we want to know," demanded the policeman. "What goes on here?"
"I was showing these girls a plate I'd just developed, when the lights went out. Something struck me on the head. That's all I remember."
"What became of the girl with us?" Bess asked.
The photographer, pulling himself on to a couch, gazed at her coldly and shrugged.
"How should I know?" he retorted.
"And where is the plate with the writing on it?" George suddenly demanded.
"The spirits must have been angry and taken it," the photographer said. "I've known them to do worse things than that."
The policeman appeared to be skeptical. He searched the building thoroughly, but no trace of Nancy or of the missing plate could be found.
Worried over Nancy's safety, and scarcely knowing what to do, Bess and George demanded the arrest of the photographer. The policeman, however, pointed out that they had no evidence against the photographer.
"Now don't you worry, young ladies. Your friend can't be far away. We'll have some detectives on the job right away. But I'll have to ask you to step around to the precinct station and give us a description of Nancy Drew."
Shortly afterward, Bess and George, considerably shaken, returned to their hotel. There, nervously pacing the floor, they debated whether to send a wire to River Heights.
"If Nancy doesn't show up in another half hour, we'd better notify Mr. Drew," Bess quavered. "To tell the truth, I'm so scared-"
"Listen !" George commanded.
Footsteps had sounded in the corridor, and now the door of the suite was opening. The two girls waited tensely. Nancy tottered in. Her hair was disheveled and her clothing wrinkled and soiled. Wearily she threw herself on the bed.
She greeted them with a wan smile. "Hello."
Bess and George ran to her solicitously. "Are you all right? What happened?"
Nancy told them how the hand had clutched at her throat when the lights went out in the studio.
"I tried to scream and couldn't. I was lifted bodily and carried out of the room."
"Where?" George asked.
"I couldn't see. A cold, wet cloth was clapped over my face. I was taken to the basement of a vacant house not far away and left there, bound hand and foot."
"How did you get away?" George questioned.
"I kept working until I was able to wriggle out of the cords. Then I climbed through a window and came straight here."
"Did you get the number of the house?" asked George. "I think we should get a policeman and investigate."
Nancy nodded. "We'll go to the police station as soon as I have a bath and change my clothes."
While Nancy was dressing, the girls discussed their recent experiences. George and Nancy were equally sure the photographer had resorted to trickery in putting the message on the plate.
"He could do it easily," George argued. "Maybe he used a plate which already had been exposed to the printed words."
"I believe there's more to it than that, George," Nancy told her. "I think the woman who spoke to us on the plane figures in it. I saw her at the studio," Nancy disclosed. "I'm convinced the photographer was part of a scheme and only pretended to be knocked unconscious. We must get that plate with the message on it."
"It's gone," said George.
This news added to Nancy's suspicions about the whole adventure. As soon as she was dressed, the girls returned to the police station, and an officer was assigned to accompany them. A careful search was made of the vacant building where Nancy had been imprisoned, but not a clue could be found. Even the cords which had bound her had disappeared.