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VI
    Curious Dealings
    THE closet in which Nancy was a prisoner was dark and stuffy. Fur garments crowded against her, nearly suffocating her. She pressed an ear to a crack in the door and listened to the murmur of excited voices in the shop.
    “I say we call the police!” the woman shrilled. “Tell them we captured this thief ourselves and no thanks to their protection!”
    “But, Mama, suppose the lady in the fur coat was mistaken?” persisted the proprietor. “All we know is that she said a thief named Nancy Drew was coming to steal furs.”
    “And didn’t Nancy Drew come in here?” insisted his wife. “That’s good enough for me!”
    Nancy heard the door of the shop open. “Pardon me,” said a familiar voice. “Did a titian-haired girl come in here?”
    “George!” thought Nancy.
    “Why do you ask?” the proprietor demanded.
    “Because she’s a friend of ours,” Bess answered. “We saw her come into this shop.”
    After a moment of silence, the woman asked, “What’s your friend’s name?”
    “Nancy Drew,” George declared.
    “You’ve come to help her rob us!” the woman shrieked. “Papa, lock them up too!”
    Nancy doubled her fists and banged on the closed door with all her might. “Bess! George!” she shouted. “I’m locked in this closet!”
    She heard a startled exclamation and a sound of running feet. In a moment the door swung open. “Nancy!” Bess gasped. “What happened?”
    “Mrs. Channing told these people I’m a thief!”
    The proprietor frowned. “Mrs. Channing?”
    “The woman in the fur coat,” Nancy told him. “She stole two mink pieces in Masonville yesterday. I believe she planned to rob you, but saw me coming and used this means to get rid of me.”
    “Nancy’s a detective,” Bess spoke up.
    The mouths of the shop owners dropped open. “I meant no harm, miss,” the man said quickly.
    “Where did Mrs. Channing go?” Nancy asked.
    “Out the back door.” The proprietor pointed. “I’m so very, very sorry—” he began.
    “It’s all right,” Nancy said. “Come on, girls. Maybe we can pick up that woman’s trail.”
    But Mrs. Channing was not hiding in any of the alleys or shops in the vicinity. The three friends cruised up and down the streets of Winchester, and inquired at two other hotels and all the fur shops. No one had seen the woman.
    Finally the girls decided to return home. When they stopped for gasoline on the way back to River Heights, Nancy picked up a clue. She questioned the service-station attendant, who informed her that a long black car with a crooked bumper and dented fenders had stopped there for gas a short time before.
    “The driver was a dark-haired woman in a fur coat,” the employee said. “I remember her because she seemed so nervous. Kept looking back over her shoulder all the time.”
    “Did she mention where she was going?” Nancy asked.
    “No. But she said to fill her gas tank—said she was starting on a trip. Maybe to Vermont, I thought. The car had a Vermont license.”
    “Did you happen to notice anything she had in the car with her? Luggage or packages or anything?” George asked.
    “Now, why are you girls so curious?” the man countered. “I’m pretty busy here.”
    Before Nancy could stop Bess, she revealed their suspicions of Mrs. Channing. The attendant became cordial once more.
    “You know, that woman did have two extra fur coats on the back seat,” he said.
    Nancy thanked the man for the information. While paying for the gasoline, she asked, “Have you a telephone?”
    “Yes, inside. Use it if you like.”
    Nancy phoned the local police, told what she had learned, and asked them to alert the Vermont authorities.
    When Nancy finally reached home, Hannah greeted her with a broad smile and said, “I’m sorry you had such a long, tedious trip.”
    “Well, I picked up some good clues.”
    “What were you doing, anyway? Trailing that nice Mrs. Channing?” Hannah asked.
    “I wouldn’t call her