Making an excuse to Victor, Nancy went downstairs to the school office.

"Hi, Ms. Arletti," she said to the secretary. "Is the headmaster free?"

In response, Walter Friedbinder appeared in his office door and said, "h.e.l.lo, Nancy. What can I do for you?"

Nancy explained that she wanted to check the school records of some students against their teachers' grade rosters. "I'd like the files on Victor Paredes, Kim Forster, and a few others."

"Victor Paredes, huh?" said Friedbinder. "His name keeps coming up, doesn't it? His record and Kim's are on the computer. You can use the one here in the corner. But digging out the grade rosters is another matter. They should be in the file room, shouldn't they, Ms. Arletti?" He gestured to a door behind the secretary's desk.

"That's right," Ms. Arletti replied. "But they're in a locked file cabinet, along with other confidential papers. It might take me a while to hunt up the key."

"Why don't you come back after lunch?" the headmaster suggested. "I'll make sure we're ready for you by then."

"Here's a key to the outer door, in case I'm out," Ms. Arletti added. "I'll put the file cabinet key in an envelope with your name on it and leave it here on my desk."

"Thanks," Nancy told her. As she turned to go, she noticed the door to Phyllis Hathaway's office was slightly ajar. Was she inside, listening?

Nancy went back to the learning lab and worked for twenty minutes, but soon her impatience got the better of her. Surely Ms. Arletti must have found the file cabinet key by now. Nancy didn't want to wait until after lunch.

Downstairs, the office door was locked. Nancy found the key she had been given and went in. The envelope with her name was right where Ms. Arletti had said it would be. Nancy took it, went into the file room, and turned on the overhead light.

The room was lined with a dozen gray, four-drawer file cabinets and some shelves piled high with papers. Nancy realized that she had no idea which one she wanted. Was she going to have to try the key in each of them, one by one?

Then she gave a little snort of laughter. There was no point in trying the key unless the cabinet was locked! She tried the top drawer of the nearest cabinet. It opened easily. She shut it and tried the next, which also opened. She kept going until, on the fifth try, she found one that didn't open. Maybe this was the one.

She tore open the envelope and took out the little key. She was about to fit it in the lock when a noise caught her attention-the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall outside the office. Someone was running away from the office. Then came a whoof! whoof! A yellow glare suddenly filled the room. A yellow glare suddenly filled the room.

Nancy whirled and gasped in terror. Flames were shooting up from all around the open doorway, charring the paint on the doorframe. In a flash the flames swooped across the floor, setting stacks of papers on fire.

Already the doorway was completely blocked, and the flames were advancing toward Nancy. Her body tensed as she frantically searched the small, windowless room.

She was trapped!

Chapter Twelve.

THE TINY ROOM was filling with black, acrid smoke. Nancy's eyes were stinging, and when she tried to take in a breath, the overheated air seared her lungs.

Struggling to remain calm, she buried her nose and mouth in the crook of her elbow and got down on the floor. The air was a little cooler and less smoky down there, but she knew that wouldn't last. If she didn't find a way out, and very quickly, she was going to die.

Somewhere outside, a fire bell was clamoring. Help was probably on its way by now, but she doubted it could arrive in time to save her. Should she try to run through through the flames? She shivered with horror at the idea. There was no way to do that without being burned, but at least she would have a chance. By staying in the file room, she had no chance at all. the flames? She shivered with horror at the idea. There was no way to do that without being burned, but at least she would have a chance. By staying in the file room, she had no chance at all.

Why wasn't the sprinkler system working? Nancy raised her eyes to the ceiling and spotted the manual turn-on valve. She didn't hesitate or even take a moment to think or plan. Drawing in a deep breath, Nancy held it, and sprang to her feet.

Under the turn-on valve was a tall steel bookcase. Nancy hurled some of the books onto the floor.

Her chest felt as though a loop of barbed wire were tightening around it. She began climbing the bookcase. The hot metal of the shelves seared her hands, but she ignored the pain. It was happening to someone else, in a distant place.

The higher she got, the thicker the suffocating smoke became. Finally, teetering on the top of the case, her foot braced against a lower shelf, Nancy reached up to the sprinkler valve.

Come on! Come on! she thought desperately as the stubborn valve refused to move. A glob of purple darkness floated in front of Nancy's eyes. A deep nausea rose up inside her. Nancy, you can't pa.s.s out, she urged herself. Hang in there!

With a last, desperate twist, Nancy gave the valve all she had. Suddenly bursts of water sprayed down from the small sprinkler heads mounted in the ceiling.

In minutes the flames were dying and Nancy could see the doorway clearly. Coughing and feeling sick, she staggered across the smoky office, collapsing into the arms of a helmeted firefighter, who was just arriving.

When Nancy opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a clear sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. She blinked, then turned her head. She was lying on a stretcher in the school parking lot, just outside the open door of an ambulance. On one side of her was an alert paramedic with an oxygen tank in his hand. On the other was Victor, more serious than she had ever seen him.

"Am I okay?" she croaked in a husky voice that surprised her. "The fire's out?"

"I was going to ask you that," Victor replied. "And don't worry about the fire. You had it out so fast they're going to make us go back to cla.s.s soon."

Nancy sent questioning messages to various parts of her body. Once she had received the answers she told him, "My hands hurt. And it aches when I breathe. Everything else seems to be all right."

"We'll be taking you to the hospital in a few minutes for examination and treatment," the paramedic said. "Do you feel up to answering a few questions from the fire marshal before we go?"

"Sure." Nancy started to sit up, then thought better of it when the parking lot started swirling around her. She would have to stay lying down for now.

The fire marshal was a man of about fifty with a deeply lined face and kind brown eyes. He squatted down next to the stretcher and asked her to tell him what had happened. "Then it was you who turned on the sprinklers. That was quick thinking, young lady. That probably saved your life, as well as kept the fire from doing serious damage. We're not sure yet why the heat sensors in the sprinkler system failed. Brewster may be in for some heavy fines for having faulty safety equipment."

"It was arson, wasn't it?" Nancy said in a low voice.

"What makes you say that?" the fire official asked her, frowning.

"The way it started, all at once, and spread across the floor," Nancy replied. "It seemed to flow, and to me that sounds like some kind of liquid was burning, not just a bunch of old papers."

"We don't know what else may have been stored in that room," the fire marshal said. "We're looking into that now. Thanks for your help, Ms. Stevens. If I have any more questions, I'll be in touch with you.

"Okay, Bill," he added, straightening up and turning to one of the paramedics. A few moments later Nancy's stretcher was secured inside the ambulance, and the vehicle sped away.

Her father was already at the hospital when Nancy arrived. So was Harrison Lane. They joined her in her examining room. After she and the paramedic a.s.sured them that she was basically in good shape, Lane said, "Sally called and told me what happened. I called your father. Nancy, I feel terrible that I put you in such danger. I never expected anything like this. I want you to drop this investigation."

"Not yet," Nancy told him, shaking her head.

"I beg you," the banker continued. "If there has to be a scandal at Brewster, so be it. We'll live it down somehow. At least we won't be putting you in further jeopardy."

Nancy shook her head again.

"I told you you were wasting your time," Carson Drew said to Lane. "Once she's made up her mind, it's impossible to talk her out of it."

"I can't give up now," Nancy insisted. She paused while a doctor examined the burns on her hands and put a soothing ointment on them. As he began to wrap them loosely with gauze, Nancy continued.

"The reason the file room was torched is that I'm getting close to a solution to the case-too close for somebody. But I don't think that I was meant to be trapped like that. If I had gone to the file room when I said I was going to, I would have found the fire department on the scene and the file room already gutted. But I was impatient to check something, so I went early."

Her father gave her a sharp look. "Then you think the person who set the fire is someone who knew when you were planning to go to the file room. There can't be too many people like that."

Nancy thought a moment. Who did did know she would be there? There was Friedbinder and Ms. Arletti. Phyllis Hathaway might have been in her office and overheard Nancy asking to check the files. It was possible a student had been in the office with her at the time. And, she recalled, she had suggested to Victor that someone might think to check the grade rosters. know she would be there? There was Friedbinder and Ms. Arletti. Phyllis Hathaway might have been in her office and overheard Nancy asking to check the files. It was possible a student had been in the office with her at the time. And, she recalled, she had suggested to Victor that someone might think to check the grade rosters.

"That's a strong possibility," she said. "Of course, the fire's timing could have been a coincidence. The fire could even have been an accident."

"You can rule out that possibility," Lane told her, frowning. "I spoke to the fire marshal a few minutes ago, and he told me unofficially that he's planning to list it as arson. There's also strong evidence that someone tampered with the sprinkler system so it wouldn't go off as it should have. Isn't there anything I can say to persuade you to give up this case, Nancy?"

Nancy managed a grin. "You could tell me you've found the grade-changer. Other than that, I can't think of a thing that would make me quit now."

Forty-five minutes later Nancy was released from the hospital. She talked her father into driving her back to Brewster. "I have have to get back there, Dad," she coaxed. "The grade-changer is getting scared. The arson proves that. Who knows what he or she is up to at this very moment-probably scrambling like crazy to cover up this scam in any way possible. I. Wynn could disappear altogether if I don't get to him soon." to get back there, Dad," she coaxed. "The grade-changer is getting scared. The arson proves that. Who knows what he or she is up to at this very moment-probably scrambling like crazy to cover up this scam in any way possible. I. Wynn could disappear altogether if I don't get to him soon."

"Okay, okay," Carson gave in. "Let's hear what you've got so far."

As they drove toward Brewster, Nancy laid the case out for her father. "I haven't decided that Phyllis and Dana are guilty yet," she said, after listing all the clues that pointed to the pair. "And I have to admit, I'm wondering more and more about the headmaster now. Walter knew that I was planning to check some of the records, and and he knew when. he knew when.

"By the way, Dad," she added with a grin. "I've figured out that Dana was your client."

"I had a feeling you would," her father told her, a proud gleam in his eyes.

A few minutes later he pulled into the Brewster parking lot. Nancy thanked him for the ride and the emotional support and promised that she'd call him to drive her home later.

As she walked into the school, the smell of smoke made Nancy's stomach turn. It was almost three o'clock, but the halls hadn't filled up yet with crowds of students going home. She went straight to the office, where Ms. Arletti clucked over Nancy's burns, her narrow escape, and the mess the fire had made of her office.

It was was a mess. Much of the furniture had been scorched, and the carpet was soaked with chemicals from the fire extinguishers. Nancy swallowed twice and looked into the file room. The walls and ceiling were dark with soot, and a thick layer of charred, water-soaked papers and books covered the floor. But the file cabinet appeared to have suffered little more than scorched paint. a mess. Much of the furniture had been scorched, and the carpet was soaked with chemicals from the fire extinguishers. Nancy swallowed twice and looked into the file room. The walls and ceiling were dark with soot, and a thick layer of charred, water-soaked papers and books covered the floor. But the file cabinet appeared to have suffered little more than scorched paint.

"One of the maintenance staff will be in to clean out all that rubbish," Ms. Arletti explained. "With any luck, we'll be back to normal by tomorrow. Thank goodness the computer system wasn't damaged. If we lose that, we might as well close the school."

"I hate to bother you," said Nancy, "but it doesn't seem as if the grade rosters were burned. Could I look through them?"

Ms. Arletti sighed. "You're a determined young woman, aren't you? Go ahead."

Nancy opened one of the cabinet drawers and found Kim, Victor, and Sally's files. She winced from the pain as she grabbed them, balancing them gingerly in her arms. Then she took another small stack of student files at random. "Thanks," she told Ms. Arletti as she left the office. "I'll return this stuff tomorrow."

Wanting a place to sit down and go over her materials, Nancy went upstairs to the learning lab. Before opening the files, she decided to check her E-mail.

Three messages were waiting for her. All of them amounted to get-well notes, one each from Walter Friedbinder and Phyllis Hathaway, and the third from Victor, who added an invitation to join him for a hot fudge sundae at the Roost.

Nancy smiled to herself and started to compose an answer. Then she noticed a flashing box appear in the upper corner of the screen. Another piece of E-mail was arriving for her. The pa.s.sword of the sender was IW443!

Chapter Thirteen.

NANCY INSTRUCTED the system to print the message on the screen.

You got away this time. Next time you won't be so lucky. Get out of here while you still can. This is your last warning!

Controlling her reaction of shock and rage, Nancy quickly saved the message, then told the computer to refuse it. Returning message to terminal 29 appeared on the screen. The message had come from the newspaper office again. It had been entered on the system only seconds before.

Nancy whirled around and dashed out the door. The person who had sent the threat would have no way of guessing that Nancy would read it instantly, and not minutes or even hours later. The chances were that he or she was still at the terminal.

Nancy stopped running just before she reached the corridor that led to the office of the Academician Academician and began to walk softly. She wanted to catch the guilty person in the act. If he or she tried to leave the office before Nancy got there, it didn't matter. She would still see the culprit at close enough range to identify him or her, and that was almost as good. and began to walk softly. She wanted to catch the guilty person in the act. If he or she tried to leave the office before Nancy got there, it didn't matter. She would still see the culprit at close enough range to identify him or her, and that was almost as good.

Her heart pounding, Nancy tiptoed up to the door. It was standing ajar. This was it-the moment of truth. She cautiously peeked in. Randi! She was seated at the same terminal where Nancy had seen her the week before. Her back was to the door, and she was typing something on the keyboard.

Stepping into the room, Nancy said, "More threats, Randi? You might as well save computer time and make them in person. I'm here now."

"Nancy!" Randi jumped up from her chair so quickly that it fell over backward as she spun around to face the doorway.

"You startled me," the student reporter continued. "What are you doing here?"

"Catching you red-handed," Nancy replied.

Randi gave her a puzzled look. It was almost convincing. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "But I don't think I like your att.i.tude."

"What were you writing just now?" Nancy demanded. She pushed past Randi and approached the terminal.

"A story for the paper, about the girls' soccer team," Randi replied. "Not that it's any of your business."

Nancy looked at the monitor and read: "Paced by star forward Lisa Mongiello, the team rolled over the Deerfield Falcons, 102, last Thursday, clinching their first pre-season game."

"I want to know what's going on here," Randi insisted. "Either tell me right now or get out of my office."

"About two minutes ago someone sent me a threatening message, from this terminal," Nancy said. "Do you have anything to say about that?"

Randi's face turned red. "That's a dirty lie! I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I've been right here, working on the paper, for the last half-hour. And no one-no one-has been anywhere near this terminal except me!"

Randi seemed completely sincere. But what about the message that had come from this room? Since she was the only one there both times Nancy had received messages, she was clearly implicated in the scheme.

Or was she? Nancy suddenly thought of another possibility. "You say you've been using this terminal steadily for the last half-hour?" she asked in a softer tone. "Did anything unusual happen during that time?"

Randi frowned. "Unusual? No. Well-the computer locked up on me for a few seconds at one point, but that's not so unusual. It happens every day or so. I keep meaning to ask someone about it."

"What do you mean, 'locked up'?" Nancy asked eagerly, a tingle of excitement spreading through her.

"It quits working, sort of," Randi explained, shrugging. "The screen blanks out, the keyboard goes dead, and then a few seconds later, everything is back to normal. Listen, what's going on? What's all this about threats? What kind of case are you working on?"

"I can't tell you now," Nancy replied, "but I think I'm beginning to see some of the answers. I promise I'll tell you everything I can, when the time comes. Right now, I'd better get moving. I need to find Victor Paredes."