perfect name.
Nancy realized that if she did not try to get
away and bring help now, she and her friends
would fail. There was nothing they could do by
themselves.
Nancy turned to relay her intentions to Bess
and George. A slight tug on their robes was all
that was needed to make them understand, but to
put the plan into operation was another matter.
The girls attempted to edge toward the cham-
ber entrance by degrees, but Al Snead stood bar-
ring the door. For the time being escape was out
of the question. They must bide their time.
As long as some members of the organization
remained masked, the girls knew they would be
comparatively safe. But already several people
had stripped off their robes and headpieces.
Every minute that the girls’ escape was delayed
increased the danger of detection.
Since it was impossible to sneak away, Nancy
made careful note of her surroundings and tried
to identify the faces on her mind. Except for
Yvonne, the leader Maurice Hale, Al Snead, and
the man she had seen on the train, all were
strangers. Six people besides Bess, George, and
herself remained masked.
As Nancy surveyed the elaborate equipment
in the workroom, she realized that this was an un-
usually large gang of counterfeiters. The en-
graved plate which had been copied from an ac-
tual United States Government twenty-dollar bill
was a work of art. Probably the leader of the gang
had at one time been noted as a skilled engraver
and had decided to use his talents to unlawful ad-
vantage.
Nancy carefully glanced about the room. Mau-
rice Hale was looking over some stacks of coun-
terfeit money while several members of the gang
talked quietly. Bess and George automatically fol-
lowed Nancy’s gaze but stood perfectly still next
to her near the table.
Nancy, under ordinary circumstances, could
not have told the counterfeit money from the real
thing-with the picture of Jackson on the face,
and the White House on the back. But now that
she had been alerted to examine the bills care-
fully, she noted that the color and texture of the
paper appeared to be at fault.
When Nancy felt sure that she was not being
observed, she stealthily picked up one of the bills
and tucked it inside her robe as evidence.
“We made a pretty fair week’s profit,” Maurice
Hale said gruffly as he stacked the bills into sev-
eral large piles. You distributors and passers keep
up like this for another month and I’d say we’ll
all be on Easy Street.”
“The racket won’t last another month,” Al
Snead growled. “I tell you, the federal agents are
getting wise that the phony stuff’s being passed
around here.”
“Bah!” Hale replied contemptuously. “Let
them be suspicious! They wouldn’t think of this
out-of-the-way place as our headquarters in a
thousand years!”
Nancy could not help but smile at his words.
“That’s what he thinks!”
The next voice that spoke startled Nancy. She
recognized it instantly as belonging to Mr. Kent
-the would-be buyer of Red Gate Farm!
“Yeah, maybe not,” he was saying. “Still, it’s
too bad the old lady wouldn’t sell her place.
Then we’d really have a setup!”
It flashed through Nancy’s mind that her
hunch had been right about Mr. Kent being in-
volved with the hillside cult. No wonder they
wanted to obtain Red Gate Farm; it would have
been a better headquarters for the gang than the
cave.
The girl detective strained her ears as the con-
versation continued. A woman next to Kent said
scornfully, “I only hope your bright idea about
that fake letter we took to the Drew girl, and cut-
ting the farm telephone wires, doesn’t backfire.”
So, Nancy told herself, it was Kent, and the
woman who had just spoken, who were the ones
responsible for that part of the mystery. Mr. Kent
also was undoubtedly the driver of the car which
had slowed down one evening near the farm-
house.
Meanwhile, the leader went on deftly stacking
the money. Nancy and her friends watched him
with increasing uneasiness. When the various
members of the organization were called upon to