Nancy's Mysterious Letter (5 page)

“What was he wearing?” Nancy asked.

She was not surprised to learn that the purchaser of the pin had worn a camel’s-hair coat and hat. In her mind this settled it. The buyer was indeed Edgar Nixon. But where did she possibly fit into the picture?

Mr. Whittier handed Nancy the necklace. “Come in again soon,” he invited her. “I’ll have all my Christmas things on display next week.”

His suggestion gave Nancy an idea. Recalling a remark her father had made, she said, “Mr. Whittier, in a magazine advertisement I saw a special kind of cuff links I know my dad would like. They were large gold squares and had diagonal stripes of black across them. I’d like a set to give Dad for Christmas.”

“I know the pattern well,” said Mr. Whittier. “I’ll order a pair if you like.”

“Please do, and let me know when they come in.”

“Speaking of cuff links,” said the jeweler, “Mr. Nixon bought a pair for himself. Kind of flashy but he seemed to like them. They were bright red and had a black star in the center.”

Instantly Nancy thought what an excellent identification this was. Aloud she said, “I don’t think I’d care for them myself.”

Shortly thereafter, Nancy left the shop and walked to her convertible, deep in thought. She had just picked up two good leads!

Nancy went directly to the Skeets’s home on Cottage Street. Although it was not far from the Drews’, she had never been in this particular area. The houses were rather shabby, many of them needing paint, but they were neat and the windows glistened. The small lawns in front of them were well kept. Nancy drove slowly until she came to number twenty-two.

The bell knob on the seaman’s cottage door was brightly polished. In answer to Nancy’s ring, the door was opened by a grizzled, elderly man.

“Howdy,” he said, smiling affably. “We don’t want to subscribe to any magazines, thanky.”

“I’m not selling anything.” Nancy laughed. “I came to see Mrs. Skeets.”

“Well, she hoisted anchor here about an hour ago,” he said. “I expect she just rode around to the chandler for some supplies and most likely she’ll be back by six bells.”

Nancy grinned. “You mean eleven o’clock, Mr. Skeets?”

“Call me Sailor Joe like the rest of the folks.” He grinned broadly. “Yes, miss. Six bells on a ship is ‘leven o’clock.”

“Then your wife will be back very soon,” Nancy said, glancing at her wrist watch. “May I wait?”

“Heave your anchor, lass,” Joe said. “Come into the parlor.”

Chuckling, he led Nancy into the living room. It was papered in deep red and furnished in a variety of shabby furniture. On the walls were pictures of ships, a broken but highly polished sextant, a lethal-looking spear, and a large dried starfish.

Nancy sat down on a couch and remarked, “Sailing all over the world, you must have seen many interesting things, Mr. Skeets.”

“Aye, and so I have.” Sailor Joe grinned, settling himself in a captain’s chair. “Why, a funny thing happened to me one time when I had shore leave in Melbourne, Australia. For fun I told one of the dockhands I was a pearl diver. And me not being able to swim a stroke. That night after

I’d gone to sleep, somebody came and carried me away. Next thing I knew I’d been shanghied onto a boat that was really going pearl diving.”

Sailor Joe laughed uproariously. Nancy wondered what was so funny about this. Instead, it seemed tragic.

“I see you don’t understand the joke,” the old salt went on. “You see where I was brought up us sailors meant washin’ dishes when we said pearl divin’.” The old man rocked with laughter and slapped his knees with great calloused hands. Nancy laughed too but did not want Joe to get started on another one of his sea yarns. She was eager to ask him some questions before his wife returned.

“How long have you lived here?” she asked.

“Maybe a year, maybe two,” Joe said. “My old woman moved out here so I’d be far from the sea and maybe stay home more. But I could smell salt water if I was in the middle of a desert! Speaking of deserts, I must tell you—”

Nancy interrupted quickly. “Did you ever know a young woman by the name of Nancy Drew?”

“Nancy Drew? Well, I’ll say I did, and a trim little figurehead she was, and as neat as an admiral’s cutter. Did you know her?”

Nancy shook her head. “I’m trying to locate a Nancy Smith Drew who’s wanted in England,” she said.

Sailor Joe whistled “Wanted in England, is she? And for what? That girl never did a wrong thing in her life.”

“Oh, she isn’t wanted by the authorities,” Nancy hastened to say. “A relative died and left her some money.”

“Ah-ha! That’s a jib of another cut.” Joe grinned. “Yes, Nancy Smith Drew used to room with my missus in New York. She kept a roomin’ house then.

“Well, well, I’m glad Miss Drew come into some money, for she was hard up, that she was. Studying for the stage, and a fine figure of an actress she’d ’a’ made. Tall and beautiful with a fine deep voice.”

Nancy was excited. “Where is Nancy Smith Drew now?”

Sailor Joe went on, “She couldn’t get to sign with no theater, and at last she left us to go to some beach with a family as a governess.”

Nancy was wildly elated at this clue. “When Was this?” she asked.

“Oh, that was maybe ten—no, not that long. Let me see now. I remember I brought her back a souvenir and she was gone when I docked. What did I bring her? You’d never guess. A little monkey! I got it from a Portuguese—down in Brazil. I’d made a voyage to Rio in—Why, I remember now. It was just eight years ago next spring that Miss Drew left us.”

Eight years ago! Nancy’s heart sank.

“Do you remember the name of the family she went with?” she asked.

Sailor Joe pursed his lips and frowned. Presently he said, “English folks, I think. Name of Hilt something, or was it Washington? You know what? I gave that monkey to a man in exchange for a pair of boots.”

As the old man burst into laughter again, Nancy felt more encouraged than ever, now that she had found another clue. Her thoughts were interrupted by an exclamation from Joe.

“Ahoy! Here comes the missus now. I know her step on the quarterdeck.”

He jumped to his feet and rushed to open the door for Mrs. Skeets. Her arms were loaded with bundles.

“Brisket corned beef is what you’ll get for supper because it’s the cheapest cut in the market,” the woman announced.

“Salt horse again!” exclaimed her husband. “Well, never mind. We got company.”

Mrs. Skeets walked into the living room and saw Nancy. “Humph! It’s you, is it!” She sniffed.

Without another word she passed through to the rear of the house and it was some minutes before the woman returned.

“Did you bring the money?” she asked.

“Hey, what’s all this palaverin’ about?” Joe demanded in annoyance.

“This is the young lady who’s responsible for the disappearance of the letter from your sister that had ten dollars in it. I went around to her house. I suppose you’ve got the money with you?”

Joe looked from his wife to Nancy in bewilderment. “But this young lady didn’t steal the money, did she?”

“I’m askin’ no questions,” Mrs. Skeets said stiffly. “All I want is our ten dollars.”

Nancy smiled at Sailor Joe. “I’m glad you don’t think I stole the money,” she said. “Of course I didn’t. A batch of letters was taken from our house, and your wife seems to think that a letter from your sister was among them.”

“Well, I ain’t goin’ to let you pay one cent,” Joe roared. “Not even a stevedore would agree to that.”

“Nevertheless I made a bargain with your wife,” Nancy told him. “I said I would give her the ten dollars in exchange for some information about Nancy Smith Drew.”

“You see?” Mrs. Skeets said loftily. “Well, a bargain’s a bargain. Let me see the ten dollars and then I’ll talk.”

Nancy took the money from her purse and held it up. She told the woman of the conversation that she had had with her husband. “I understand that Nancy Smith Drew was engaged as a governess by some English people several years ago.”

“That’s right, but Joe told you too much.

’Course this was a long time ago and I don’t think it’ll do you much good tryin’ to find Nancy Smith Drew there. The name of the people was Wilson and they was stayin’ at the Breakers Hotel somewhere on Cape Cod.”

Nancy turned over the ten-dollar bill and started for the door. “Thank you both for the information. I shall try hard to find this other Nancy Drew. Mrs. Skeets, ask your husband to tell you about her inheritance.”

As soon as Nancy reached home, she consulted the long-distance operator in order to dial the Breakers Hotel on Cape Cod. Finally she was given the number and put in the call. The man who answered said the place was closed for the winter. He was only the caretaker.

“I’m trying to locate people named Wilson who perhaps spend the summers there,” Nancy said. “Could you give me their winter address?”

“No,” the man replied. “I don’t know the names of the summer guests and all the hotel’s books are locked up. Maybe if you call next summer you can find out.”

Nancy put down the phone and stared into space. Once more she had run into a stone wall. How should she proceed now?

As she sat lost in thought, the phone rang. She picked up the instrument and said, “Hello.”

“Hi, Nancy!”

“Ned!”

“How’s everything?” Ned Nickerson asked.

“You mean about the weekend? Just fine. Bess and George and I are driving up on Friday. We’ll come right to Omega Chi Epsilon House. Okay?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you to do. You girls will be staying here.”

“Ned,” Nancy said, “I’m busy solving two new mysteries.”

She went on to give him a detailed account of Edgar Nixon, the stolen mail, and finally the mysterious letter which had come from England for Nancy Smith Drew.

At the end she laughed and said, “Of course I expect your help.”

It was Ned’s turn to chuckle. “I might be able to help you sooner than you think. You know there’s to be a play Friday night—one of Shakespeare’s. The dramatic society engaged a coach to come out from New York especially for it. She’s a woman—and her name is N. Smith Drew!”

“OH, Ned, do you mean it?” Nancy exclaimed. “Will you find out if the coach’s first name is Nancy?”

He promised to do this and then added, “You’ll be able to meet her Friday night. If she is Nancy Smith Drew, I won’t tell her about the inheritance. I’ll leave that for you.”

Ned said he would call Nancy back as soon as he found out. “I won’t leave the house until you do!” she told him.

It was an hour before Ned called back. “I didn’t learn much,” he reported. “Miss Drew was suddenly called away and she won’t return until just before the show.”

Nancy was disappointed but knew she must be patient. After all this was Wednesday. Friday evening was not too far away.

Ned changed the subject. With laughter in his voice, he said, “Who do you think is temporary coach? Burt Eddleton!”

Nancy giggled. George Fayne’s date hardly seemed like the type to be coaching a Shakespearcan play. He was a blond, husky football player who was full of fun.

“I can’t wait,” Nancy said. “Does Burt have a secret aspiration for becoming an actor after college?”

Ned laughed. “I doubt it.”

The couple talked a few minutes longer, then they said good-by. Nancy’s thoughts turned back to her visit at the Skeets’s home and the information she had received.

Suddenly she told herself, “Maybe if N. Smith Drew, the coach, is Nancy Smith Drew from England, she went to see the Wilsons where she used to work as governess. If I could only find them!”

Nancy went upstairs. Hannah Gruen was still hemming the dance dress. Often when the girl sleuth was puzzled, she talked over the situation with the understanding housekeeper. Now she told her of the latest report from Ned Nickerson.

“I wish I knew where to find the Wilsons,” Nancy said. “Have you any hunches?”

“If they summer in Cape Cod, possibly they live in the Boston area,” was Mrs. Gruen’s first guess.

“Yes,” Nancy said slowly. “But lots of people from other places go there too. What would be your second choice?”

“How about Springfield, Massachusetts?”

After a ten-minute conversation between them, Nancy came up with an idea which Mrs. Gruen thought was very plausible. Nancy Smith Drew had been in New York studying for the stage. If the N. Smith Drew at Emerson was the same person, she had no doubt succeeded in finding a place in the theatrical world—at least as a coach. There was a good possibility that the Wilsons, for whom she went to work as a governess, lived in New York City.

“I put a New York City phone book in your father’s study,” Mrs. Gruen told Nancy. “But I’ll bet there are hundreds of people named Wilson in it.”

Nancy hurried off. One look at all the Wilsons in New York City would have discouraged a less determined person. She took a pencil from her father’s desk and began to check likely addresses.

She told herself that if the Wilsons could afford a governess, they were probably well-to-do. This meant they would live in one of the nice areas of the city. Consequently Nancy eliminated all the business and professional addresses. Her list of likely candidates turned out to be long, but she decided to start telephoning each one.

“Our phone bill will be tremendous,” she told herself as call after call was made with no success.

Half an hour later Nancy heaved a sigh. Should she go on? Many things might have happened to the Wilsons she was trying to locate. They could have died or moved away.

“But I mustn’t give up,” Nancy told herself, and began to dial another number.

When a woman answered, Nancy said, “Is this Mrs. Wilson?”

“Yes.”