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open for Bushy Trott. Although there were many workmen busy at their tasks, she saw no one who resembled the suspected thief.
    One thing she did take note of was a heavy door on the stairway landing at the far end of the building. A metal sign on it read:
    POSITIVELY NO ADMITTANCE.
DANGER. KEEP OUT.
    “I wonder if that is one of the secret places Miss Jones spoke about,” Nancy speculated to herself. “Maybe Bushy Trott is in there!”
    Soon they reached the top of another stairway, and the secretary outlined the next process in making synthetics.
    “Ahead of you is the machine known as the spinneret,” she said. “That’s what makes thread.”
    “It’s remarkable!” Nancy exclaimed, pretending to be watching nothing but this.
    At that moment a bell rang several times.
    “That’s for me,” said Miss Jones. “I guess Mr. Dight wants me. We’ll have to go back.”
    “If you don’t mind, I’d like to look around a little longer,” Nancy said.
    “Well, I don’t know.” The woman paused. “You really shouldn’t. But stay if you wish. If I see Miss Dight, I’ll tell her you’re here.”
    Nancy nodded and thanked Miss Jones for the tour. As soon as the secretary left the spinneret room, Nancy moved quickly up the stairway toward the forbidden room.
    “I wish I could look in there,” she thought.
    As Nancy hesitated outside, the door suddenly opened. A workman in soiled dungarees came out, carrying a package which looked as if it might contain a bolt of cloth.
    Although the door remained open only an instant, Nancy obtained a fleeting glimpse of the interior. She saw several large chemical vats. Beside one of them, his back to her, stood a man with bushy black hair.
    “Bushy Trott!” Nancy thought excitedly. “The man who used to work at the Booker factory!”
    The door slammed shut, and she saw no more. Nancy deliberately loitered until the workman who had come out of the room disappeared down the hall.
    “I must get a better look at that fellow with the bushy hair!” she decided. “This is my chance to help Dad solve the mystery!”
    Glancing quickly around and seeing no one, Nancy cautiously tried to open the door. To her dismay it had a snap lock and would not budge.
    “I must get in there!” Nancy thought with determination. In a moment she smiled to herself. “I think I know how to do it!”
    Pressing her lips close to the crack of the door to the secret room, Nancy screamed. The ruse was successful. From within came hurrying footsteps.
    The next instant the door swung open. Nancy staggered inside, her hand over her half-closed eyes.
    “Water,” she murmured. “Water.”
    The big, bushy-haired man who had opened the door stared at her doubtfully.
    “Are you sick?” he asked in a coarse, heavy voice.
    Nancy did not want to answer questions. To avoid them she pretended to faint. The act was well-timed, for the man, frightened, immediately rushed into the hall for help. The young detective smiled.
    “I’ll bet that’s Bushy Trott! When I describe him to Dad, he’ll know for sure.”
    No sooner had the door swung shut behind the man than she leaped to her feet. Eagerly she gazed about. The room resembled a laboratory. Near her were several vats of rainbow-hued solutions.
    Nancy had no opportunity to look further. Heavy footsteps warned her that the man was returning. She barely had time to stretch out on the floor before he came into the room.
    As the big, burly figure bent over her, Nancy pretended to revive. Opening her eyes, she gazed up into his ugly, cruel face.
    “Here, drink this!” he commanded.
    Nancy took a sip of water from the paper cup he offered her.
    “I’m feeling better now,” she murmured, sitting up.
    “You don’t work here,” he said, scanning her face closely. “How did you get into this part of the factory?” he asked gruffly.
    Before Nancy could reply, the outside door swung open again. A stout, well-dressed man with piercing brown eyes stepped inside.