“Easy,” Nancy said, taking her lock-pick kit from her shoulder bag. “This is a pretty simple lock.” She looked in both directions. The now-dark street was empty, the reflections of the streetlights shimmering silver in the puddles from the earlier rain. A moment later she pushed the gate open. “Come on.”
In seconds, the three of them were inside the courtyard. Ned felt the hood of the car, then got down on his hands and knees and reached up inside the front.
“There’s no way this car could have been driven in the last few hours,” he reported, shaking his head. “The radiator’s cold.”
“I don’t understand it,” George said with a frown. She went around to the driver’s side and peered in, cupping her hands around her face. “This has to be the car!” She reached down for the door handle.
“Don’t touch that handle!” Nancy exclaimed—but not in time. The alarm on the car had begun to emit short, sharp blasts. George gasped and leaped back.
“The door handle was wired with an alarm,” Nancy whispered urgently. “Come on! Let’s get out of here before somebody finds us!”
But at that moment a door opened in the house and light spilled out. A shadowy figure stood outlined against the light.
“Don’t move,” Lake Sinclair cried viciously, “or I’ll blow your heads off!” A gun glinted in her hand. “Line up against the car and put your hands on the top.”
Cautiously, Nancy turned. “It’s me, Lake,” she said. “Nancy Drew.”
“I don’t care if you’re the queen herself,” Lake said, gesturing with the gun. “Line up! This is the second time today that somebody’s tried to steal my car—and this time I’ve got you!”
“What do you mean, you’ve got us?” George exclaimed indignantly, putting both hands against the car. “We’ve got you is more like it. You nearly killed us a little while ago!”
“That’s ridiculous,” Lake snapped, coming a little closer. “I haven’t been out of this house all day.”
“She’s not lying,” Ned reminded George. “The car’s cold, remember. It couldn’t have been this Mercedes that nearly ran us down.”
“Ran you down?” Lake asked, lowering her gun.
Nancy told her what had happened in front of the plaza after they turned around to face Lake. “We came over here,” she added, “to check out your car. After all, the driver did have auburn hair—just like yours.”
“The blackmailer tried to kill you?” Lake repeated.
Nancy shrugged. “Somebody did. And not for the first time, either.” She looked at Lake. “Did you say this was the second time today that somebody tried to steal your car?”
“That’s right.” Lake slipped the gun into her pocket. “I heard the alarm go off around three this afternoon. By the time I got out here, the thief was gone.” She nodded toward the gate. “First thing in the morning, I’m having a better lock put on that gate.”
“It certainly was a surprise,” George said with relief, “when your car alarm went off.”
Lake looked at George. “You’re the one who wants to run in Olympic Stadium?” she asked.
George nodded vigorously. “I sure do.”
“Listen,” Lake said, with an embarrassed shake of her head, “I’m sorry about what happened just now. I’ll see if I can arrange a pass.”
“That’d be terrific!” George replied with a wide grin.
Lake turned toward the door. “Well, good night. And good luck! I hope you find this guy before I have to make another payment—I don’t have much left to sell!”
Back at the apartment, Nancy was just unlocking the door as the telephone began to ring. It was Ashley Amberton.
“I just thought I’d check,” she said. “What happened when you went to Nelson’s Column this afternoon?”
Nancy sketched out the events of the afternoon and evening. “Now that we know it wasn’t Lake’s Mercedes that nearly ran us down,” she said, finishing her story, “we’ll try to find out just who the car really belonged to. It shouldn’t be hard. There can’t be that many yellow Mercedes in Montreal.”
“How do you even know the car came from Montreal?” Ms. Amberton asked quickly. “Maybe you shouldn’t waste valuable time trying to trace it.”