Nancy put down the phone and opened the note. “ ‘If you’re not concerned for your own safety, Nancy Drew,’ ” she read out loud, “ ‘perhaps you should worry about your two friends. How would you feel if one of them suddenly disappeared?’ ”
Chapter Seven
Clutching the note in her hand, Nancy leapt to the door and jerked it open. She looked up and down the corridor. The hallway was empty. There was no one in sight.
“Too late,” Nancy said, coming back into the room. “He got away.”
She sat down on the sofa and held the note under the lamp beside her, examining it closely. It was typewritten on a piece of plain cream-colored notepaper with a thin blue line printed down the left margin—nothing very significant there. But as Nancy turned it sideways, against the light, she noticed what seemed to be indentations in the paper.
“Look,” she said, pulling out her magnifying glass, “I think this paper was under another piece of paper when somebody wrote on it. Whatever was written on that top sheet left an impression here.”
“Oh?” Ned asked, leaning over her shoulder. “What does it say?”
“I don’t know,” Nancy said. “I can’t quite make it out.” She glanced up. “We need some tissue paper.”
“I bought a blouse today,” George said. “The salesclerk wrapped it in tissue paper. What are you going to do with it?”
“An old detective trick,” Nancy said. “Let’s try a little scrap.”
George got the tissue paper while Ned found a pencil. Then Nancy put the note down on the coffee table. Carefully, she laid the tissue paper on top of the impressions in the note and rubbed with the side of the pencil lead. As if by magic, the white shapes of letters emerged from a pencil-smudged background.
“Hey, that’s neat,” George exclaimed.
“But what does it say?” Ned asked.
“There’re numbers,” Nancy replied, peering closer. “Looks like five hundred, and then the letters mg. Then there are some letters I can’t make out, and then m-y-c-i-n.”
George frowned. “Sounds like a chemical.”
Suddenly Nancy looked up, smiling. “That’s it! Five hundred milligrams of something-mycin! It’s a prescription for some sort of antibiotic!”
“The doctor’s office again!” Ned cried, snapping his fingers.
“Exactly,” Nancy agreed. “Another lead. I think we’re on the right track, don’t you? The sooner we talk to that doctor, the better.”
George touched her nose again. “As long as he doesn’t do anything to my nose,” she said defensively. She shot Nancy a pleading look.
“Don’t worry, George. He won’t get anywhere near your nose. Honest.” Nancy glanced again at the threatening note. What would she do if anything happened to either one of her friends? The thought was too frightening.
“Look, this blackmailer is obviously determined to cause some damage—and he doesn’t care who gets hurt.”
“We’re not worried, Nancy,” Ned said playfully. “If anything happens, you’ll protect us.”
“Thanks a lot.” Nancy rolled her eyes. But she knew Ned and George understood. “Now, maybe we should get to work.” She reached for the phone and dialed Ms. Amberton’s number.
“You nearly missed me,” Ashley Amberton said, when Nancy reached her. “I was going to leave a little early.”
“I’m sorry to call so late,” Nancy apologized. “But I need to ask you to set up an appointment for me.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, with a man named Emile Dandridge—Dr. Emile Dandridge.”
There was a short silence. “Dr. Dandridge? The plastic surgeon?” Ms. Amberton replied. There was an odd note in her voice. “Why do you want to see him?”
Nancy told her about the conversation she and Ned had had with Lake Sinclair. She also mentioned that she was beginning to suspect someone in the doctor’s office was blackmailing Lake.
“And when we got back to the apartment,” Nancy went on, “I opened a cabinet door and narrowly missed getting a splash of liquid nitrogen in my face.”
“You’re all right, aren’t you?” Ms. Amberton asked quickly. “You’re not hurt?”
“Oh, no,” Nancy reassured her. “If it hadn’t been for Ned, though, I might have been blinded or badly burned.”
“Was there any damage to the stove?” Ms. Amberton asked. Hurriedly, she cleared her throat and added, “Or to the rest of the kitchen? Shall I get the locks changed?”