“Could I use your phone?” Nancy asked. Mrs. Passano led Nancy back into the office, and Nancy immediately called Southern Telegram. She gave the operator the reference number on the telegram. “I’d like to know who delivered this message, the time it was ordered, and who the sender was,” she explained. “And if possible, please give me a physical description of the sender.”
The operator came back on the line in a moment. “The telegram was ordered two hours ago from a Baltimore office that stays open late,” he said. “It was a special express rush order. The man who delivered it is one of our regular employees. Unfortunately, we have no record of the sender, since he or she paid cash. The sales agent who took the order says she can’t remember what the person looked like. So many telegrams go out each day.”
Nancy thanked the man and hung up, feeling frustrated. She thought about her remaining two suspects. The brown glove she’d found could fit either a tall woman, like Alexa Shaw, or a fine-boned man, like Mark Plonsky. Mark couldn’t have been in Baltimore two hours ago, she knew. It was nearly an hour’s drive away, and he’d been at the ball when she arrived more than an hour ago. Could Alexa have ordered the telegram? Was she even at the ball?
Nancy told Mrs. Passano what the operator had said. Mrs. Passano frowned. “I’d better call together the other members of the hunt board to tell them about this telegram,” she said. “Why don’t you listen in, Nancy? We might need your advice.”
Five minutes later they were sitting in the office with the board’s four other members—Mr. Hathaway, the Burnet brothers, and a man named Mr. Tsao. Nancy realized he must be the father of Lili Tsao, the girl she’d talked to at the saddlery.
Mrs. Passano introduced Nancy and then showed the board members the telegram. After discussing it for a moment, they all decided that Mark Plonsky and the other activists must be behind it.
“Plonsky may be at the ball, pretending to be a nice guy,” Mr. Hathaway said, “but one of his pals could have sent the telegram for him.”
“At this point we don’t have enough solid proof to formally accuse him,” Mrs. Passano pointed out.
“Maggie, you’re always the voice of reason,” Mr. Hathaway said with a smile. “But I think you’re dead wrong here. I’d say we had proof enough on the cub hunt, what with that silly fox setup. And now with Morning Glory missing . . . ”
“We can’t prove Mark Plonsky set up that fox,” Mrs. Passano insisted. “Look, Laura and I want Morning Glory back more than anyone else does. But I still don’t think we have grounds yet to accuse Mark of stealing him. As master of the hounds, I’m making that the final decision,” Mrs. Passano said, her tone forceful. “What we have to decide now is what to do about Opening Day. Should we go on with it or not?”
“Absolutely!” Mr. Hathaway said, pounding a nearby desk with his fist. “We’re not going to be swayed by terrorist tactics.”
“I agree,” Samuel Burnet said. “But why don’t we announce the situation and let each rider decide whether or not to take the risk?”
“I agree,” Mrs. Passano said. “Even if we disband the hunt, there’s no guarantee we’ll get Morning Glory back. I think we have to catch this crazy person—and maybe the hunt tomorrow will make him reveal himself. Let me make the announcement to the crowd before it gets too late and people start to go home.”
The meeting broke up, and Nancy followed Mrs. Passano into the tent. Nancy quickly snatched a plate of fruit salad from the buffet. She’d been too busy to eat.
Just then the music stopped. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Mrs. Passano announced from the band singer’s microphone. “Please, may I have your attention.” An immediate hush fell over the crowd.
“We have received word that there may be more sabotage on Opening Day tomorrow.” Mrs. Passano paused, while a ripple of outrage spread throughout the group. When the room became quiet again, she went on. “We have no way of knowing for sure, but there could be even more danger than there was last Wednesday. Nevertheless, the board has voted to go on with the hunt tomorrow. We will not be scared off by these threats.”
The crowd broke into applause. Mrs. Passano held up one hand to get their attention again. “We hunt officials plan to go out, but no one else should feel they have to. It’s your decision. Whatever you decide, you know I’ll understand.”
As Mrs. Passano ended her speech, a buzz of whispering in the crowd swelled into rousing murmurs of support.
“I won’t let anyone intimidate me into not riding to the hounds,” Nancy heard a man say. She noticed that it was Mr. Zachary, the older man who’d helped George during the cub hunt. “On Wednesday,” he went on, “we were taken by surprise. But now we’re prepared for the fight!” He looked around the room defiantly.
“I don’t like chasing foxes,” Lili Tsao said, standing to Nancy’s left. “I’ve always wanted us to switch to a drag hunt. But I intend to go out tomorrow. These blackmailers can’t get their way!”
Whether they were for or against live fox hunting, the members seemed to agree on one thing: they couldn’t let the saboteur win. Nancy was impressed with their spunk.
Just then, Nancy noticed a commotion in the crowd. Looking over, she saw Mark Plonsky elbowing his way through a cluster of people, an angry scowl on his face.
George appeared at Nancy’s elbow. “Mark is furious,” she told Nancy. “He’s been getting dirty looks ever since Mrs. Passano made her speech, and a man over there just accused him of wrecking the hunt. He’s totally insulted. He’s going home.”
“I don’t blame him,” Nancy said. But privately she wondered if Mark had come to the ball only to set up an alibi for sending the telegram. “By the way, George, have you seen Alexa?” Nancy went on.
But before George could answer, Mrs. Shaw joined them. “Hello, girls,” she said cheerfully. “Alexa’s home sick with a headache tonight.”
How convenient, Nancy thought. Alexa always seemed to be missing when trouble struck the hunt.
“To tell you the truth, I hope she’s too sick to hunt tomorrow,” Mrs. Shaw chattered on. “Better a headache than a head injury.”
“Isn’t her horse lame, anyway?” George asked.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Mrs. Shaw said. “So that makes it certain she won’t ride. I’m sorry, but I hate the hunt. My husband died during one, you know.” Her eyes flickered with sudden anger.
“I know,” Nancy said. “I’m so sorry. But if you hate the hunt, then why did you come tonight?”
“In this area, if you don’t go to events like these, you have no social life,” Mrs. Shaw said. “Excuse me, girls, I have to say good night to some friends.”
“Poor woman—I feel sorry for her,” George said as Mrs. Shaw strolled off. “Laura says she’s been under a lot of stress since her husband died.”
The band played its last song, and people slowly headed toward their cars. Nancy and George walked with Laura back to the car. On the way home, Laura seemed glum. “I’m so worried about Morning Glory,” she said. “I understand my mom’s decision to hunt tomorrow, but what if somebody does something terrible to my horse because of it?”
Nancy gave Laura a sympathetic smile. “I don’t think anyone would dare hurt Morning Glory. And I agree with your mom—the hunt might flush out some important clues.”
“Are you both hunting tomorrow?” Laura asked.
“Laura, I wish I could, for your sake,” George said. “But I can’t hunt, I just can’t. Not until your mother changes it to a drag hunt. I had a long talk with Mark Plonsky tonight, and he only strengthened my feelings about saving foxes from being hunted.”
“I agree with George about the foxes,” Nancy told Laura. “But I’m worried about the danger to the riders. I feel sure the culprit will strike, and I’m determined to catch whoever it is before anyone gets hurt. So yes, Laura, you can count me in.”
• • •
The next morning Nancy and Laura arrived at the clubhouse, where the hunt was meeting for Opening Day. They were on their horses when Mrs. Passano rode up to them on Trimble, looking regal in her scarlet coat. She had driven over before dawn with Grant Hathaway. “We wanted to patrol the countryside on horseback before the hunt went out,” she explained.
“Did you find anything?” Nancy asked.
