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into the Base with the oranges. He told me I was to have nothing more to do with Nancy Drew or I’d be harmed.”
    “That’s dreadful!” Nancy said.
    The words were barely out of her mouth when Patrick Croft gave a cry of panic. “Someone’s breaking in!” he shouted. “Help! Help!”

CHAPTER VII
    False Information
    THE phone connection remained on but there were no voices. Evidently Patrick Croft had run away from the instrument without hanging it up. Nancy could hear banging and shouting, then a crash, as if the intruder had broken open the door.
    Nancy hung up, waited a few minutes for the connection to be broken, then called police headquarters. She told the sergeant on duty what had happened at Croft’s house. He assured her that two officers would be sent there immediately.
    Nancy rushed upstairs to tell Hannah and the girls of Croft’s predicament. “I’m going over to see what happened!”
    “Not by yourself,” Hannah spoke up firmly. “We’ll all go. This is shocking. Poor Mr. Croft!”
    With Nancy at the wheel, they covered the distance to his house in a short time. A police car and an ambulance stood in front and sympathetic neighbors had begun to gather.
    “Oh, he’s been hurt!” Bess exclaimed.
    Nancy pulled up to the curb and jumped out.
    Patrick Croft was just being brought out on a stretcher. He was unconscious and his face the color of pale alabaster.
    Two policemen followed. After the ambulance pulled away, Nancy spoke to the taller officer, telling him she was the person who had phoned headquarters.
    “I’d like to explain to you in more detail what I know about the attack tonight.”
    “Come with me, miss,” said the officer, and added, “My name is Regan.”
    He led the way back into the house, then took a notebook and pencil from a pocket. “Tell me everything you can,” he said. “Sometimes a small detail that the average person considers unimportant can prove to be a valuable clue.”
    Nancy knew this very well from her own sleuthing experiences. She introduced herself and told where she was from, then said, “Mr. Croft was a security guard at NASA. He’s the one responsible for allowing the truck with explosive oranges to come onto the Base.”
    “Oh you know about that,” the officer replied.
    Nancy nodded, then related Patrick Croft’s telephone conversation verbatim.
    “So Croft thought the caller might have been the truck driver,” Officer Regan observed. “If he wasn’t Mr. Billington, have you any idea who he is? And why did the person who phoned not want Croft to contact you?”
    “I don’t know the man’s name,” Nancy answered. “That’s what I’m in Florida to find out. My father and a local lawyer are trying to solve this case and prove Mr. Billington innocent.”
    “I see,” the policeman said. “Poor Croft was beaten into unconsciousness so it will be some time before he’ll be able to answer any of our questions.”
    Regan told her that there was only one set of clear footprints but this was not a help in identification because the intruder had worn flippers.
    “Also, the man must have had on gloves,” the officer said, “because he left no fingerprints.”
    The word flippers caught Nancy’s attention and she remarked, “The man you’ll be looking for could be a snorkeler.”
    “You’re right,” Regan admitted. Then he asked, “By the way, have you and your friends visited the Real Eight Museum of Sunken Treasure yet?”
    “No, we haven’t.”
    “Do by all means. It’s most interesting, even though a little terrifying if you visualize what happened during one of the worst hurricanes on record. Well,” the officer said, “I must go. Thank you for your information.”
    He escorted Nancy outside. His fellow officer produced a padlock for the broken front door and pocketed the key. The police car pulled away. A curious group of neighbors who had gathered finally dispersed.
    Hannah and the girls started home. On the way Nancy said