The Whispering Statue Read Online Free Page A

easily.”
    Nancy telephoned police headquarters and asked for Captain Turner.
    “This is Debbie Lynbrook, Captain. Have those kidnappers been caught?”
    The officer said that unfortunately they had not. “We went to the mansion and found it deserted, though we did see some rope and several men’s handkerchiefs which might have been intended as gags. I think you were right that the men planned to hold you girls there. But I want to assure you that all the police in surrounding towns have been alerted. If you feel, however, that you need our personal protection, please phone me.”
    Nancy promised to do this and said good-by.
    The girls ate lunch, then went back to their room. Bess stood at the window, taking deep breaths of the clear salt air. “Let’s forget those horrible men,” she said, “and stroll down to that heavenly-looking beach in our swimsuits. I see a lot of boats.”
    Within minutes the girls were running barefoot along the sand, playing tag with the breaking wavelets. Nancy was dangling a bathing cap in her hand.
    “I’m glad it’s calm,” George remarked. “Say, maybe we could use one of those sailboats!”
    There were a variety of boats tied up—small sailing dinghies, rowboats, Boston Whalers. Larger sailboats were moored offshore. Several Sailfish had been pulled up on the beach.
    “I’d rather take the Boston Whaler,” said Bess. “It’s fast and easy to handle. I hate to be at the mercy of the wind, especially if those men try to catch us again,” she added, shivering in spite of the hot sun.
    “I don’t think the attendant would let us,” Nancy replied. “At least not without checking us out. I wonder where he is.”
    “Oh, come on. Let’s sail,” George urged impatiently.
    “There’s a sign by that boat,” Nancy said, pointing to a flat-hulled racer. “Maybe it will clue us in on the rules.”
    The girls read the sign carefully. Guests of the yacht club were allowed to take out the Sailfish, dinghies, and rowboats at any time. Permission to use the Boston Whaler and the larger sailboats had to be obtained from the attendant. But he was temporarily off duty.
    “Let’s each take a Sailfish and have a race,” George cried, running over to a pretty light-blue boat, with a yellow sail wrapped neatly around the mast. The mast and rudder had been placed carefully next to the hull.
    “That sounds like fun,” Nancy said enthusiastically. “Which boat would you like, Bess?”
    Nancy was eying a dark-green one with a red stripe around it. Its white sail, mast, and rudder were placed exactly like the others.
    “Someone keeps things shipshape around here,” she thought admiringly. “These boats look like painted wooden soldiers all lined up.”
    “I’ll stick to the rowboat, thanks,” Bess said. “I’d rather be under my own steam. If I took a sailboat, the wind might blow me somewhere I didn’t want to go,” she added, glancing at a breakwater of rocks not far away.
    “Don’t worry, Bess,” said Nancy. “Why don’t you come with me? We can always tack back when you say the word. It’s a light offshore wind,” she added, looking up at the pennant on the boathouse. “And I promise to head up into the wind, whenever you’re scared, although I don’t relish getting in irons. Oh well, if we do, you can jump out and push!” Nancy laughed.
    “Thanks,” Bess answered.
    “Why don’t you all go together in the Wee Scot?” said a deep voice.
    The girls wheeled around in surprise. The speaker was a smiling attractive young man.
    “Who’s he?” asked Bess.
    “Who’s who?” the young man queried.
    “Wee Scot,” Bess answered indignantly. The others chuckled.
    “Wee Scot is the name of a class of racing sailboats,” the stranger explained. Pointing to the harbor, he said, “That white, fifteen-foot, sloop-rigged boat moored out there is one.”
    Nancy turned to the young man. “We’d love to try her, but the sign says that we can use only the Sailfish