“I—I hope you can find out who’s doing this and make him stop,” Lake said. The cat came out from under the sofa and rubbed against her. She picked it up, burying her face in its soft fur. “I don’t know how much longer I can go on this way.”
Outside, Nancy and Ned hailed a cab and went back to the apartment. On the coffee table there was a scrawled note from George. “Gone for a ride with Pierre,” it read. “Back at six.”
“Pierre?” Nancy said, reading the note. “I guess he’s the guy she met at Chez Soda.”
“I suppose,” Ned answered. He pulled the drapes open, and the late-afternoon sunlight flooded the living room.
Ned ran his fingers through his brown hair. “So, what’s next?”
“How about if I make us some lemonade? I saw a mix in the cupboard in the kitchen.”
“Sounds good,” Ned agreed. He followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the door jamb, watching as she took down a pitcher and some cups. The kitchen looked almost new. Obviously, it hadn’t been used very much.
“Let’s see,” she said, going over to the cabinet above the stove. “I think the mix was up here.” She reached up over her head and tugged on the door.
“That’s funny,” she said. “I don’t remember this cabinet being so hard to open.”
She yanked again, and the door popped open. As Nancy struggled to keep her balance, she saw the metal Thermos that was perched on the very edge of the top begin to wobble. It was going to fall! Instinctively, Nancy put up a hand to shield her face, but she was too late. A dense white mist poured out of the Thermos. Whatever it was, it was steaming—and it was about to splash into her eyes!
Chapter Six
Wham! Nancy was hit. Ned had just knocked her out of the way of the steaming waterfall. The two of them landed on the floor next to the sink, and a moment later Nancy sat up, dazed. For a second she just sat still with Ned’s arms wrapped protectively around her. She sank back against him as she watched the cloud of white vapor spilling from the stove onto the floor.
“Let’s get out of here, Ned!” she cried, struggling to her feet. “Somebody rigged that cannister to fall when the door was opened. It could be poisonous!”
“Wait,” Ned said calmly. “If somebody had wanted to poison us, he wouldn’t have tried anything so complicated, or so messy.” He shook his head, frowning. “No, this isn’t poison.”
“Then what is it?” Nancy asked. She stepped closer and looked at the puddle on the floor. It was already beginning to evaporate into clouds of steam. “It’s steaming—is it hot?”
Ned disappeared into the living room. In a minute he came back with a floppy green leaf from a philodendron plant. Carefully he dipped the leaf into what was left of the puddle. When he pulled it out seconds later, it was covered with frost. And when he tapped it gently on the counter, it shattered into a dozen pieces of what looked like green ice!
“It’s frozen!” Nancy exclaimed. She looked at Ned. “Wow! Where did you learn that trick?”
“Freshman chemistry,” Ned replied, staring at the shattered leaf. “This stuff is probably some sort of a liquefied gas.”
“But what kind?” Nancy asked.
“I don’t know—yet,” Ned said thoughtfully. “Actually, the possibilities are pretty limited. When most substances get this cold, they freeze solid.”
“Like the leaf,” Nancy said.
“Yeah. Like the leaf.” Ned leaned closer. “Let’s see. There’s no color—that white steam is probably just the water vapor in the air freezing when it comes in contact with the gas.”
Nancy sniffed. “I don’t smell anything, either.”
“Neither do I,” Ned said, reaching for the box of matches on the stove. “I wonder if it burns.”
Nancy grabbed his arm. “Are you crazy, Nickerson? The air is filled with the stuff. If it’s flammable, this place could go up like a box of fireworks!”
“My bet is that it isn’t,” Ned argued. “But you’re right. We need to be on the safe side.” He got out a long-handled spoon and carefully scooped up a spoonful of the fuming liquid. Carrying the spoon into the other room, he touched a match to it. The flame died immediately. “My bet is that this stuff is liquid nitrogen—it doesn’t burn.”