Finally, she reached the last corner. She was at the back of the heating plant, she knew. With George and Bess coming down the other side, that meant that the joker was trapped. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she flattened herself against a wire mesh cage and risked a peek.
George and Bess were coming toward her, looks of fear on their faces.
Nancy stepped around the corner with a cry. “Hey! Where did he go?”
Her friends jumped. Bess looked ready to faint. “Aaargh! Don’t do that! You nearly scared me to death, Nancy!”
“Sorry. I was sure we had him trapped back here. What happened?”
George pointed. “Look!”
Off to their left, a large tunnel angled down and away from the heating plant. Attached to its walls were dozens of pipes and ducts. So! There was another way out!
“What is that?” Bess asked. “What are all those pipes?”
Nancy started toward the opening. “They hold the electrical cables, I’ll bet. The ducts probably carry leftover steam from the turbines.”
“Carry it where?”
“To the other buildings, for heat.”
George’s eyes bugged out. “Nancy, are you saying there’s a maze of tunnels under the campus?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. And that’s where the joker went. Come on!”
The tunnel was suffocatingly hot. Pursuing the joker here was highly dangerous, Nancy knew, but she was determined to catch him. He had hurt too many people in too many ways to let him escape now that they had him!
On and on they jogged. The tunnel twisted and turned, and they had to peer around every corner in case the joker lay ahead. Nancy was worried. Their caution was slowing them down. He might escape.
Finally, they came to a fork. Nancy looked both ways but saw no one in the dim light. Which way had he gone?
“Should we split up?” George asked.
“No, I may need your help when we catch him.” Nancy slipped off her jacket.
Bess shucked off her coat, too. “I say we split—period! Let’s find the fastest way out of here. I’m dying of the heat!”
Nancy wiped her forehead. “The joker’s probably thinking that way, too. The question is, which is the shortest way out?”
They took the right branch. Two turns and a fifty-yard stretch later, they found themselves in a large basement. The word Jenkins was painted on the wall.
“This is one of the dormitories!” Nancy said. “Ned lived here before he joined his fraternity. Come on!”
Together they ran up a flight of stairs, down a brightly lit hallway, and out a door. They were outside again! Quickly Nancy looked around, searching for familiar landmarks.
“There! The smokestack!” she shouted. “Let’s go!”
It took less than a minute to return to the heating plant, but by then it was too late. As they rounded the corner of the building and spotted the shipping yard, Nancy let out a howl of pent-up rage.
The Camaro was gone!
“It’s my fault. I should have sent one of you back for the police. Or even for the license number,” Nancy said.
It was the next morning. Nancy, Bess, and George were eating breakfast in a big, airy dining hall.
“Don’t kick yourself too hard,” George advised her. “It was a tense situation, and you did what you thought best.”
“Yes, but look where it got us . . . nowhere! Now we’re back to square one.” Nancy groaned.
“Not exactly,” Bess interrupted.
“What do you mean?” Nancy asked, looking over at her blond friend.
Until now, Bess’s nose had been buried in the most recent issue of the student newspaper. She had picked it up on their way into the dining hall and had hardly looked up since.
“I’ve just eliminated one of our suspects,” she announced.
“You’re kidding! How?”
“By reading this paper. See? This article says that Tom Stafford led a debate against Fielding College last night.”
“So?” George demanded.
“The debate began at five p.m., the same time that the bus’s tire was shot!”
“Therefore, Tom couldn’t have done it,” Nancy concluded.
“Right!”
“Wait a minute,” George objected. “What about his loyal followers . . . couldn’t one of them have done it?”