NANCY played brilliantly on the eighteenth hole. Her hand had not pained her. Fortunately the bandage had not hampered the young golfer in driving the ball or using the putter to tap it into the cup.

Bess and George were waiting at the eighteenth green when Nancy and her opponent ended the round. They approached their friend the instant Amy Gray was out of hearing, and congratulated Nancy on winning the match.

"We knew you'd do it," Bess declared proudly. "Tomorrow you'll take the second round, and then you'll be well on your way to the championship!"

"It won't be easy," Nancy replied. "The second match is always harder than the first, because you're facing a better player."

"How was your score?" George asked.

"Not very good. I came in with an eighty. I must get down into the low seventies or under to win."

"You can do it, Nancy," Bess said confidently. "How about lunch, girls?"

"Great," Nancy agreed. "If we have it early maybe we won't run into Barty."

The three girls were relieved to find the hotel dining room practically deserted. After enjoying a leisurely meal they wandered out-of-doors. Nancy's gaze roved toward the sixteenth fairway.

"You're not considering more golf?" George asked in surprise.

Nancy shook her head. "Eighteen holes is enough for me today. Chris was telling me about an old mansion which burned a couple of years ago. Miss Margaret Judson, the owner, lived there. The place is over in the general direction of the bridge. Let's hike to it." She chuckled. "Maybe we'll find another lost treasure."

Though the idea of the trek did not appeal to Bess, she and George agreed to accompany Nancy. The three were cutting across the fairway of the eighteenth hole when they encountered Bartescue.

"h.e.l.lo," he called. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, on a little hike," Nancy replied as he fell into step with them.

He said quickly, "I have a little time to kill before I play my match this afternoon."

"I doubt if we'll be back very soon," Nancy said pointedly. "You might miss your match if you come along."

"In other words, 'no gentlemen wanted.' " Bartescue laughed. "Oh, well, I was only teasing. I couldn't have gone anyway because I tee off at one-thirty." With a wide, knowing grin he left.

"Do you think Barty suspects we're on a special saearch?" Bess asked in an undertone a moment later.

"He acted as if he does," Nancy said.

Glancing over their shoulders to make certain they were not being watched, the girls cut through the woods. They approached the old wooden bridge cautiously.

"The scarecrow is waving its arms back and forth as usual," Bess observed nervously as they glimpsed it through the trees. "I have a strong hunch that we're walking straight into trouble."

George laughed at Bess's fears. "Don't be negative," George said.

Nancy looked up and down the stream. "This is probably the only place near here to cross the ravine," she said. "I think the bridge should bear our weight if we walk over one at a time."

The young detective went first. After she safely reached the opposite side, George followed. Bess came last, uttering a m.u.f.fled little shriek as the flapping scarecrow brushed her arm.

"Sh-sh!" Nancy warned. "We don't want to broadcast our arrival."

"You'd scream too if that thing wrapped itself around-" Bess retorted.

George interrupted. "Nancy, I don't see how you expect to find the burned mansion when you don't know the way." She ducked to avoid being scratched by a low-hanging th.o.r.n.y branch. "Did Chris say it was on this side of the bridge?"

Nancy replied, "He pointed toward the left in this general direction. I think we're heading right. I see a trail."

Nancy indicated a faintly outlined path directly ahead. When the girls reached it they were puzzled to find still another trail branching away from the ravine.

"Which shall we take?" Bess asked as Nancy hesitated. "It looks as if the one that follows along the edge of the ravine might have been used recently."

"Yes, so probably it's the other one. Anyway, let's try it," Nancy suggested.

She pushed forward again, the scraggly bushes tearing at her clothing. Bess and George followed as best they could. Presently the trio came to a clearing enclosed by a high, uncut hedge.

"Thank goodness we're out of that jungle at last." Bess sighed wearily as she leaned against a tree to rest. "Do you suppose this is the estate, Nancy?"

The young detective craned her neck. "Yes, I can see something directly ahead that looks like part of a building. This must have been a beautiful place when it was kept up."

The grounds covered about five acres, and were wooded with giant oak and willow trees. What probably had been a lush green lawn was choked with weeds, but the vestiges of a rose garden remained.

There was a huge pile of debris in the very center of the clearing. A charred pillar and several half-burned timbers rose from it. Little else remained of the pretentious mansion.

"Is this what we've come to see?" Bess asked in disgust.

"What did you expect-that some genie had restored the house?" George replied.

Nancy said nothing. It had not occurred to her that the Judson fire had been so devastating. She had hoped the charred remains would yield a clue, such as a photograph, to connect some member of the family with the mysterious bra.s.s chest. Observing Nancy's look of disappointment, her friends shrewdly guessed that she had not told them everything.

"Do you know anything more about Miss Judson?" Bess asked curiously.

"Chris told me she's a young woman who has had a tragic life."

"I don't see how you hope to connect her with the bra.s.s chest," George remarked.

Nancy smiled. "I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more until Dad gives me permission. I can see there's nothing to find here, so let's start back to the hotel."

Bess and George did not urge their friend to reveal her secret because of her promise to her father. Few words were exchanged as the three friends made their way laboriously back to the ravine.

Nancy was absorbed with her own thoughts. Could Margaret Judson be a member of the international gang of jewel thieves?

"No, not if I'm any judge of character. She just didn't look like the type," Nancy reflected.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a shrill scream broke the stillness. The three girls stopped abruptly.

"There it is again!" Bess murmured apprehensively, clutching Nancy's hand. "That awful scream!"

The girls waited a moment, listening, but the noise was not repeated.

"I'd certainly like to find out who or what is making that sound," said Nancy.