The Secret of Red Gate Farm - Carolyn Keene [4]
“You’ll get there,” Nancy assured her. “Have you ever applied for a job before?”
“No. I’ve always helped Gram run the farm until now,” Joanne explained. “I felt I was more needed there than anywhere else. We keep a farm hand, but a great deal of the work still falls upon me.”
The girls soon reached Riverside Heights, and Nancy had no trouble finding the address mentioned in the advertisement. It was in a run-down section of the city, but Nancy did not mention this to her companion.
“Here we are,” Nancy said cheerfully, stopping the car in front of a dingy-looking office building.
Joanne made no move to get out of the car, but sat nervously pressing her hands together.
“I’m a terrible coward,” she confessed. “I don’t know what in the world to say when I go in. I wish you’d come with me.”
“I’ll be glad to,” said Nancy, as she turned off the ignition and locked the car. They entered the building. There was no elevator, so the girls climbed the dimly lighted stairway to the third floor. Soon they came to Room 305, which had been mentioned in the advertisement.
“There’s no name on the door,” Nancy observed, “but this must be the right place.”
As they stepped into the reception room, Nancy noted that it was dirty and drab. The two girls glanced at each other, exchanging expressions of disappointment.
At that moment a man came from the inner office and surveyed the girls sharply. He was tall and wiry, with hostile, penetrating eyes and harsh features. His suit was bold in pattern and color, and his necktie was gaudy.
“Well?” he demanded coldly.
Joanne found sufficient courage to take the advertisement from her pocket.
“I—I saw this in the paper,” she stammered. “I came to apply for the position.”
The man stared at Joanne critically, then at Nancy.
“You lookin’ for the job too?” he asked.
Nancy shook her head. “No. I’m here with my friend.”
The man looked at Joanne again and said with a shrug of his shoulders, “Go on in the other room. I’ll talk to you in a minute.”
Joanne cast Nancy a doubtful glance and obediently stepped into the inner office.
“Look here,” the man addressed Nancy, “wouldn’t you like that job? I could use a good-lookin’ girl like you.”
“I’m not looking for work, thank you,” Nancy returned aloofly.
The man was about to make a retort when the telephone rang. He scowled and went over to the table to answer it. As he lifted the receiver he looked nervously back toward Nancy.
“Hello,” he growled into the phone. “This is Al. Shoot!”
Nancy listened to his end of the unbusinesslike conversation and watched him reach for paper and pencil and begin to scribble down a line of figures. This in itself would not have seemed so peculiar, except that he continued to eye Nancy suspiciously.
He kept on copying figures. All the while Nancy watched him curiously.
“O.K., Hank,” he muttered just before he hung up. “You say you’ve found a girl? ... Fine! We can’t be too careful in this business!”
All this time Nancy was wondering what kind of transactions went on in this office. There had been no indication on the door of what business the man was engaged in and nothing in the room gave her any clue. She realized now that Joanne’s chances of getting the position were slim, and Nancy was actually relieved. She was very suspicious of the whole setup.
“I was just taking down some stock-market quotations,” the man remarked lightly as he crossed the room toward Nancy.
“This isn’t an investment house, is it?” she asked.
“No, you wouldn’t call it that exactly,” he answered with a smirk. “We run a manufacturing business.”
“I see,” Nancy murmured, though she really did not understand at all. “What do you manufacture?”
The man pretended not to hear and moved on to the inner office where Joanne was waiting. In haste to escape further questions, he forgot to pick up the sheet of paper with the numbers on it.
Nancy was curious about the telephone conversation and could not resist the temptation to take a peek at the notation. She stepped silently