The Quest of the Missing Map (2 page)

As Trixie began to cry, her mother said con-tritely, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, dear, but sometimes you are impossible.”

Ellen introduced Nancy to Mrs. Chatham. The woman invited the callers into a living room furnished with bizarre modem tables, chairs, and paintings. She began a lengthy account of her daughter’s shortcomings, regardless of the fact that the child was listening to every word.

At the first opportunity Nancy rose from her chair and asked Trixie to show her the grounds. As they walked down a shady trail, Nancy smiled at the child, recited a funny limerick, and soon had the little girl laughing gaily.

“I wish you were going to be here instead of Miss Smith,” Trixie remarked. “I like you.”

“You’ll like Ellen too,” Nancy assured her. “And I’ll come to see you sometimes.”

“All right. But I hope she won’t try to boss me like the others did. No one can tell me what to do!”

“I’m afraid you’ve heard your mother say that to you so often you believe it.” Nancy laughed. “Now let’s forget about being naughty. Suppose you show me the rest of the grounds. Shall we go first to that little house?”

Through the trees at a spot that overlooked the river, Nancy could see the red roof of what appeared to be a tiny cottage. To her surprise Trixie held back.

“No! No! I won’t go there!” she cried out.

“Why not?”

“Because the place is haunted, that’s why!” The child’s freckled face was tense. “I wouldn’t go inside the Ship Cottage for anything!”

“The Ship Cottage?” Nancy repeated. “Is that its name?”

“It’s what I call it. Please, let’s go the other way.”

Trixie tugged at Nancy’s hand but could not make her turn in the opposite direction.

“I’m sure there’s no reason why you should be afraid,” Nancy said gently. “If you won’t come, then I’ll go alone. I’ll prove to you that the place is not haunted.”

“Please don’t go there,” the child pleaded frantically. “You’ll be sorry if you do.”

“What makes you so afraid of it?”

The little girl would not answer. Jerking free, she ran off in the opposite direction.

“Poor child,” Nancy thought, shrugging. “I do feel sorry for her.”

Nancy was sure that Trixie was watching her from a distance as she walked slowly down the path to the quaint little house. The door was unlocked and Nancy went inside. The one-room cottage was pleasant though dusty, and was lined with shelves of books. In the center of the floor stood a very old grand piano. The ivory keys had turned yellow and cobwebs festooned the mahogany case.

“It’s probably out of tune,” she mused.

Nancy crossed the room and ran her fingers over the bass keys. Not a sound came from the instrument. Nancy was bewildered, and played a series of chords. Although she depressed the keys again and again no notes came out.

“That’s strange!” she thought.

Nancy bent to examine the pedals to see if the piano had a spring lock that prevented the strings from being struck. There was none.

As she was about to lift up the lid of the piano Nancy noticed several ship models on the mantelpiece and others on tables.

“So that’s why Trixie calls this place Ship Cottage,” Nancy murmured, taking down one of the fine models from the mantel. “Undoubtedly this is the music studio Ellen mentioned.”

After carefully replacing the small ship, Nancy heard a sound behind her. At the same moment she caught a reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. What she saw sent icy chills down her spine. A wall panel behind her had slid open. A bearded man with cruel, beady eyes was watching her every move.

“Leave here at once and never come back!” he warned in a rasping voice.

NANCY wheeled around and caught a fleeting glimpse of a long row of brass buttons down the front of the man’s coat. The next instant the panel closed noiselessly.

As Nancy dashed toward the spot, one hand brushed the piano keys. A crash of chords broke the eerie stillness of the cottage.

Nancy tried to be calm but her heart was thumping madly. “I mustn’t let myself be fright. ened,” she told herself.

Deciding it might be dangerous to investigate the cottage further at this time, she hastily left it. Once outside, she gazed about the grounds. No one was in sight.

“I’m glad Trixie didn’t come with me,” she said to herself. “I’ve never believed in ghosts and I refuse to do so now. All the same, there’s something very queer about this place.”

Nancy had inherited an inquiring mind from her father, an eminent criminal lawyer, but she knew the wisdom of using caution in all investigations. Since solving
The Secret of the Old Clock,
Nancy had built an enviable reputation as an amateur sleuth.

Now, as she stood staring at Ship Cottage, Nancy wondered why the piano had made no sound when her fingers had moved over the keys the first time.

“It wasn’t imagination,” she reflected. Just then Nancy heard her name called. Turning, she saw Ellen motioning to her from far up the path.

“Coming!” Nancy answered.

“I’m ready to leave whenever you are,” Ellen announced, joining her new friend. “What became of Trixie?”

“She ran off. You know, Ellen, I rather like her,” Nancy declared with sincerity.

“Mrs. Chatham speaks so harshly to her daughter,” Ellen remarked. “Then the next minute she’s as sweet as honey. I can’t understand her.”

“You’ve decided not to take the position for the summer?”

“I told Mrs. Chatham I’d think it over.”

Nancy said slowly, “There’s something about Rocky Edge I don’t quite like. Ellen, I wish you wouldn’t come here—at least not until we’ve made a complete investigation of the place.”

“Why, Nancy,” Ellen exclaimed in astonishment, “have you learned something about Mrs. Chatham?”

“Not a thing,” Nancy answered. “It’s mostly a feeling I have. I’ll explain it later. When must you give her your answer?”

“Mrs. Chatham didn’t say, but I imagine she wants to know soon.”

During the ride back to River Heights, Ellen sensed that Nancy was keeping something from her, and asked if this was true. Smiling, Nancy refused to divulge what she had learned.

“I’ll tell my secret when you tell yours,” she joked. “But seriously, please don’t accept Mrs. Chatham’s offer until after I talk with my dad.”

“All right, I won’t,” Ellen promised.

Nancy drove the girl to a bus which would take her back to Blackstone College, then went to her father’s office. Nancy frequently asked his assistance in solving mysteries.

Although Mr. Drew was unusually busy, the tall, handsome man laid aside his papers, kissed his daughter affectionately, and listened attentively to her story about the mysterious Ship Cottage.

“You’re certain you saw the open panel close again?” he asked when she had finished.

“Yes, Dad. Also, the piano was mute at first. Then later it played. How do you account for that?”

“I can’t,” the lawyer replied soberly. “However, I think it would be unwise for you to go there again.”

“Oh, Dad!” Nancy protested in dismay. “How can I help Ellen if I don’t?”

“Well, don’t go alone,” he amended, flashing her an understanding smile. “You’re all I have, Nancy. You’re very dear to me. Don’t forget that.”

She hugged him and promised, then asked, “Do you think it would be unwise for Ellen to accept Mrs. Chatham’s offer?”

“I’d say it would be foolhardy until we’ve checked the place thoroughly.”

“I had hoped you might be able to tell me something about Rocky Edge, Dad.”

Mr. Drew gazed out the window for several seconds. Then he said slowly, “It seems to me I do recall some trouble a few years ago at Rocky Edge. But that would have been before the Chathams bought it.”

“Who owned it previously?” Nancy asked.

“I can’t remember the name of the man,” her father answered, “but I think he was an inventor and there was an unusual lawsuit against him, due to one of his gadgets. As soon as I can, I’ll look into the matter for you.”

“I wonder if there might be some connection between the gadgets and the strange things that happened today,” Nancy remarked.

“I don’t know. It seems to me Mr. Chatham was a friend of the owner and bought the place after the man died. Mr. Chatham himself passed away less than two years ago.”

Nancy was silent a moment, then asked her father what she should tell Ellen.

“Advise her to stall,” Carson Drew answered promptly.

Nancy decided that instead of telephoning Ellen, she would drive to Blackstone College the next afternoon. Ellen was to be in a recital and Nancy was eager to hear her sing.

She invited her friends Bess Marvin and George Fayne to go with her and they accepted. The two girls, who were cousins, often shared Nancy’s adventures. Bess, blond and slightly plump, was a bit more timid than slim, tomboyish George.

“Oh, oh,” Bess remarked as the three entered the college auditorium. “Nearly all the seats are taken.”

“We’ll squeeze in somewhere,” Nancy declared cheerfully. “I see two places down front where the performers are seated.”

She suggested that Bess and George go forward and take them. “I’ll sit somewhere else. Introduce yourselves to Ellen Smith after the recital and tell her I’m here. We’ll meet in the lobby.”

As Nancy looked for a seat, she saw Mrs. Chatham, half hidden beneath an enormous hat, near the rear of the auditorium. There was an empty chair beside the woman. Nancy made her way to it.

“Are you saving this seat, Mrs. Chatham?” she asked, smiling.

The woman shook her head. The next moment, recognizing the newcomer, she beamed at Nancy as if they were old friends. Thus encouraged, Nancy began a conversation which she adroitly steered to a discussion of Rocky Edge. The widow mentioned its previous owner, Silas Norse.

“He must have been an interesting person. We’ve found several ingenious gadgets of his in the house,” she said lightly.

Nancy casually mentioned her visit to Ship Cottage but did not refer to the secret panel or the man she had seen. She merely inquired if Mr. Chatham had collected the ship models.

“Oh dear no! They belonged to my first husband,” Mrs. Chatham said with a pensive sigh. “He was such a good, kind man. It made me so sad to see those darling little boats in the house that I asked Mr. Chatham to move them to the studio.”

“Do you go out there frequently?” Nancy queried. “To the studio, I mean.”

“Almost never.”

“I suppose it was built by your late husband?”

“No,” the widow replied. “It was on the property when we took over the place. I judge it has been there for some time.”

Nancy would have asked additional questions but just then the orchestra began to play. For an hour and a half she enjoyed the recital and was proud of Ellen Smith, whose vocal solos were the best numbers on the program and received the most applause.

“Do come and see me some time,” Mrs. Chatham invited Nancy as she rose to leave.

“I’d love to,” Nancy answered. “I’ll try to drive to Rocky Edge within the next few days.”

Just then Bess, George, and Ellen came up the aisle of the auditorium.

“Oh, Nancy!” Ellen exclaimed. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

She paused, slightly embarrassed to find herself face to face with Mrs. Chatham.

“My dear, your singing was marvelous,” the widow gushed. “I had no idea you were so talented. I’ll be happy to have you teach music to my Trixie. You
art
accepting the position?”

Ellen glanced at Nancy, seeking a cue to the proper response.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” she stammered nervously. “I want to think it over.”

“I must know at once!” Mrs. Chatham insisted.

NANCY was afraid that since Ellen needed the money so badly she would accept the position immediately. She was greatly relieved, therefore, when the girl replied:

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Chatham, but I can’t possibly give you my answer for at least a week!”

“Why, that’s ridiculous!” the widow protested haughtily. “You can’t expect me to keep the position open indefinitely.”

The situation had become an exceedingly awk ward one. Nancy spoke up.

“Mrs. Chatham, don’t you think it would be difficult to find someone else who knows as much about music and who would be kind to Trixie?” she asked, hoping to gain time for Ellen.

Mrs. Chatham admitted that this might be true. She turned again to Ellen. “All right, I’ll wait a week, but no longer.”

“Thank you. I promise I’ll give you my answer by that time,” Ellen replied.

Without waiting to be introduced to Nancy’s other friends, the widow left the auditorium.