The Quest of the Missing Map (8 page)

“Nancy, do you mind?” Mrs. Chatham asked.

“Not at all.”

As Nancy began the climb, the woman snapped at the gardener, “Hoskins, how do you account for this uncovered hole? You are supposed to have charge of the grounds.”

“Mrs. Chatham, I had no idea this hole was here. Probably it was grown over and—”

Nancy heard no more for she had reached the bottom rung. Trixie, her knees slightly scratched, impulsively hugged her rescuer and scrambled up the ladder. Nancy quickly glanced about. To her right was an opening to a tunnel. The young sleuth wanted to investigate it but decided that right now she had better hurry to the top of the well. Mrs. Chatham stood there hugging her daughter.

Nancy said mysteriously to Bess and George, “Very interesting place down there. I’ll be back in a minute.” She headed for her car. When Nancy returned, she held her flashlight.

Bess shook her head. “Don’t tell me you’ve found something in that hole!”

“Uh-huh. Want to come along?”

“George, you go,” Bess shivered in reply.

Excited over this latest development, George followed her friend into the dark pit. Nancy swung the beam of her light around the opening of the cavern. It was fairly wide and about six feet high. Cautiously the girls walked in for several feet to a point where the tunnel turned abruptly. As Nancy’s light exposed the cavern beyond, they stared open-mouthed. Across one wall and on the ceiling flickered the shadow of a weird, forbidding shape.

THE flashlight focused on a large dugout beneath the silhouette. In the center stood a strange-looking contraption, rusted and crumbling with age.

George broke the silence. “It has dials. Looks like an old oil burner.”

Nancy did not reply. She pointed to an envelope attached to the unwieldy object. Printed on the envelope was a warning:

“In that case,” George put in quickly, “let’s get out of here.”

Nancy tugged her friend back, saying, “Wait a minute. You don’t really believe this thing will explode, do you? Obviously it has been here a long while and—”

“Mm;”
George murmured warily. ”Nevertheless it could go off.”

She gulped as Nancy beamed the light through a decayed section, then said, “Well, Miss Detective, what next?”

“Two things. First, I’ve been wondering how the machine got here. I thought there might have been a door connecting this tunnel with the main house. But since there is none, the machine must have been constructed in this dugout,” Nancy declared. “The only person who would have master-minded such a project was Silas Norse.”

“I agree,” said George. “What’s the second thing?”

“The envelope.”

Carefully Nancy removed the dusty envelope from the mechanism and opened it. A letter inside was headed: List
of Inventions in House and
Grounds
of
Rocky Edge. About ten were mentioned, revealing all kinds of strange gadgets secreted on the place, including the secret panel and piano in the music studio.

At the bottom was a description of Norse’s machine, which he called his “greatest achievement.” Many of the words were in German and the girls understood little of it. But the last line read:

“‘In this spot it has harmed no one yet.’ ” Nancy stopped abruptly, saying, “There’s a break here in this note with a short penciled sentence. ‘It will never harm anyone. I cannot finish my work. I am too ill. Silas Norse.’”

“We’d better tell Mrs. Chatham about all of this,” George urged. “She’ll want to have this machine dismantled completely and see that all the other gadgets are removed for the safety of Trixie, herself, and the people who work on the estate.”

Nancy agreed. As the two started toward the ladder, she said, “One thing I want to do right away. Advise her to take Trixie away from here until the place has had a thorough investigation.”

When the girls emerged, Bess was waiting for them. “You must have found a gold mine,” she said, adding almost immediately, “Mrs. Chatham took Trixie back to the house, but said she’d return to the studio alone.”

“Shall we go there?” Nancy suggested. “We’ll tell you and Mrs. Chatham what we found.”

After Nancy had located the gardener and made sure that he covered the hole with heavy planks, the trio headed for Ship Cottage. Mrs. Chatham was busy searching through some boxes which she had carried from the windowless secret chamber into the main room.

“Nancy and George stumbled upon something unusual in the well,” Bess told her.

Nancy related the whole story and produced the inventor’s letter.

Mrs. Chatham was both surprised and alarmed. “I never dreamed such things were here!” she exclaimed. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have stayed.”

This was Nancy’s chance to make a suggestion. “Until Rocky Edge can be thoroughly searched, don’t you think it might be wise to take Trixie away on a vacation?”

“You’re right. I wish we could go somewhere far away,” Mrs. Chatham replied. “But I detest travel by automobile. And planes—well, I think the most relaxing way to travel is by boat.”

Nancy had not intended to tell Mrs. Chatham about the treasure map in Tomlin Smith’s possession until the relationship between him and the woman’s first husband was established. Suddenly it occurred to her that should this be the case, Mrs. Chatham might propose an expedition to the mysterious island.

“Would you enjoy a trip to a treasure island?” she inquired with a smile.

“Are you joking?” the woman asked.

When Nancy had finished the amazing tale of the Tomlin twins’ inheritance, Mrs. Chatham declared with enthusiasm, “If the missing half of the map can be found, I’ll finance the entire trip. Nothing would please me more than to have you, Bess, George, and Ellen join us.”

Bess’s eyes popped at the generous invitation and she and George thanked the widow.

Nancy said, “Ellen will be thrilled! At the first opportunity I’ll tell the Smith family the wonderful news.” Then she added ruefully, “Finding the map is our only problem—”

“I just remembered,” Mrs. Chatham interrupted, “that John did say we might go treasure hunting together. At the time I’m afraid I really didn’t take the idea very seriously.”

Nancy said eagerly, “That almost proves the relationship of the two Tomlins! And if that’s so, then your husband must have had the missing portion of the map. Maybe it’s—”

“In the box of papers I’ve been looking for!” Mrs. Chatham finished excitedly. “This detective work is new to me, but I’m trying to catch on.”

Suddenly Nancy disappeared into the dark chamber.

Mrs. Chatham called after her, “Oh, Nancy, I’ve been all through there. I’m sure the box is gone. Maybe it was stolen.”

But the young detective was unwilling to give up. She beamed her flashlight into the corners of the narrow room. Bess and George watched from the panel entrance.

Finally Nancy stooped to move a pile of small oriental rugs. “What’s this?” she murmured.

Against the wall where the carpets had lain was a rectangle of wood which did not match the adjoining panels. As Nancy pushed against it, the section opened inward, revealing a small, dark recess.

“Another secret hiding place!” she called out.

Her two friends dashed to Nancy’s side, Mrs. Chatham at their heels. With mounting excitement, Nancy thrust her arm into the opening.

“I’ve found something!” she cried out, and a moment later brought out a tin box.

“That’s it!” Mrs. Chatham exclaimed. “That’s the missing box!”

As Nancy unfastened the lid, she hoped they had at last found the long-lost half of the map. But the metal box contained only two objects—a small key and a bankbook. The name of the depositor was John Tomlin. Nancy had hoped it would be John Abner Tomlin. The bank was in New Kirk, a seacoast city, and there was a large sum of money on deposit.

“No doubt this key unlocks his safe-deposit box in the same bank,” George put in.

“I must go to New Kirk at once,” the widow declared.

Nancy spoke up. “You may have some trouble at the bank. You’ll probably need proper identification and notarized papers. Why not discuss the situation first with my dad?”

“Yes, yes. I mustn’t lose my head.”

When Mrs. Chatham had calmed down sufficiently, Bess observed, “I’ve been wondering about this recess in the wall. I don’t recall that it was included in Silas Norse’s list of places where his inventions were.”

“It wasn’t,” Nancy confirmed, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean Mr. Norse did not put it in. From the appearance of his weak handwriting, indicating poor health, I doubt that he made a record of all his work.

“I do have another idea, though,” she went on. “Perhaps the man that George spied coming out of the concealed opening knows about the missing map!”

“What!” her listeners chorused.

“It’s only a hunch but he may have stolen it from this box. Furthermore, he must have hidden the box here, not Mr. Chatham. Obviously Mr. Chatham did not know the contents of this box. If he had, he certainly would have told his wife.”

Nancy’s conclusions stunned Mrs. Chatham.

George tried to comfort her by saying, “We’re used to Nancy’s whizbang brain. I suppose, Nancy, you can tell us the thief’s name, too.” She grinned.

Nancy laughed. With a twinkle in her eye, she replied, “I might make a guess. I’ll bet he’s Spike Doty!”

She told of the old newspaper account of how Spike Doty, the burglar at Norse’s mansion, had sued the inventor. She also mentioned that the police had deduced from her drawing and description that the thief at Ellen’s home was Spike.

Before anyone could comment, Trixie came to the doorway of the studio. “Mother!” she called loudly. “There’s a man and a woman at the house. They want to talk to you.”

“Did they give you their names?” Mrs. Chatham asked.

When Trixie shook her head, the widow excused herself and went quickly to the house. Her daughter did not follow. Instead Trixie entered the cottage and peeked into the secret chamber where papers and objects had been carefully sorted. To keep the child from touching the articles, Nancy diverted her attention by saying:

“How would you like to play a magic piano?”

“A magic piano?” Trixie repeated, her eyes opening wide. “Where is it?”

“Here in the studio.” She led the little girl to the instrument.

After Trixie had seated herself and played a few notes, Nancy turned off the control switch. Silence.

The child laughed. “How do you do it? Show me, please!”

Nancy smiled at the word “please,” so different from Trixie’s usual manner. As Nancy was showing her how to operate the switch, Mrs. Chatham reappeared.

“Nancy, I’d like you to come to the house and meet Mr. and Mrs. Brown. They have an interesting story which may shed some light on the matter of the missing map.”

Excitedly Nancy followed Mrs. Chatham up the winding path. A car Nancy did not recognize stood in the driveway. Mr. and Mrs. Brown sat on the porch.

The couple stared in astonishment as Nancy approached. The man said something to his companion, then both dashed from the porch and into the automobile.

“Well, what do you think of that!” Mrs. Chatham exclaimed indignantly.

Nancy had sprinted toward the man, but he was too quick for her. Before she could reach the car, it sped down the driveway.

“Why did they run away?” Mrs. Chatham asked, puzzled.

“Because,” Nancy announced, “they are the couple who kidnapped me from Emerson College!”

THE automobile had pulled away so swiftly that Nancy barely had time to jot down its license number. She ran into the house to call the police, thinking a patrol car might be able to capture the kidnappers.

With Mrs. Chatham hovering at her side, Nancy quickly reported what had happened, then hung up the phone. She turned to the widow.

“Please tell me what you know about the Browns.”

“They introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Fred Brown, and said they were trying to find the widow of Captain John Tomlin. They claimed to have known him well before his death.”

“Did they question you about the map?” Nancy asked.

“They hinted that Captain Tomlin had told them a great secret before his death and warned me to be on my guard if I were his widow.”

“On guard?”

“It seems that an unscrupulous man—they wouldn’t give his name—is determined to get hold of a valuable paper belonging to my first husband.”

“Of course they referred to the map!”

“I thought so but pretended otherwise. The Browns advised me to leave Rocky Edge before the man might threaten or harm me. I told them I wanted a friend to hear their story before I made any decision. I didn’t mention your name.”

“My sudden appearance must have given them a great shock,” Nancy commented.

“I wonder how much they really know about the lost map,” Mrs. Chatham said.

“Probably not much. They may believe you have it here. Either they’re working with that man who hid in the studio, or else they hope to outwit him and get it themselves.”

Mrs. Chatham walked nervously to the French window and gazed into the garden.

Nancy said, “I suggest you hire guards. The Browns may sneak back and search for the map.”

Mrs. Chatham promised to attend to the matter directly.

“Do you feel we should give up the proposed trip to New Kirk?” the widow asked as she walked with Nancy to the convertible.

Nancy replied quickly, “Considering what has happened, I think it’s very important to learn the contents of your husband’s safe-deposit box.”

“Then I’ll see your father as soon as I can,” Mrs. Chatham declared.