The Quest of the Missing Map (9 page)

After saying good-by, Nancy picked up Bess and George and said she wanted to go home via Wayland and stop at the police station.

“I’d like to talk to the chief, but not on the phone from here. Mrs. Chatham is too upset.”

Nancy told the girls about the mysterious couple who had come to call and finished just as she reached the police station. There was no news of the Browns, but the chief confirmed Nancy’s suspicion that the one clear footprint recently made by the intruder at the Rocky Edge studio belonged to Spike Doty.

“Spike first appeared locally while a seaman on a river steamer. After a prison sentence for burglary he was released and went to New York. We lost track of him. But we’ll keep looking for Spike and the Browns, too.”

On the way back Bess and George picked up their car. When Nancy reached home she found a special-delivery envelope from Bill Tomlin’s father. He had enclosed the faded photograph of a man about thirty dressed in a sea captain’s uniform.

“What a good clue!” she thought. “I must show this to Mr. Smith and Mrs. Chatham.”

Nancy gave her father an account of her recent adventures, describing her abduction by the Browns and their unexpected appearance at Rocky Edge. She ended by asking permission to accompany Mrs. Chatham to New Kirk.

“You may go, but only on the condition that I talk to Mrs. Chatham first,” the lawyer replied.

That evening Nancy mulled over the strange developments in the case. “Where do the Browns and Spike and Rorke fit into the picture?” she pondered. “Are they working together or separately?”

When Nancy finally went to bed she dreamed of a heavy-set man with evil eyes peering at her from behind various objects. In this fantasy she seemed to be standing on a high revolving platform. Regardless of which direction it turned, she kept seeing the same terrifying man in different costumes. Nancy awoke and sat up.

“What a nightmare! I can see that face yet!”

She realized that her mind had played a trick on her. The face in her dreams was that of the man on the ladder at the Smith home. The cruel, beady eyes and bearded face were those above the brass-button “apparition” which had haunted the Ship Cottage at Rocky Edge.

“Why, that’s a clue!” she thought suddenly. “Why didn’t I think of asking Trixie before?”

Leaping from bed, Nancy ran to her desk and switched on a light. She seized a crayon and sketched the leering face she had seen in her dream.

“Now I have two pictures to show,” she thought, “the photo to Mrs. Chatham and this sketch to her daughter. Trixie’s identification would be double proof that Spike Doty is the ghost of Ship Cottage.”

Nancy’s opportunity came the next morning. The widow phoned that she and Trixie would call on Carson Drew at his office. Nancy said she would be there too.

She at once showed the faded photograph to Mrs. Chatham, who quickly recognized the captain as her first husband. “Yes, thatt’s John. Of course he looks younger than the way I knew him.”

Nancy said she would show the photograph to Tomlin Smith on her next visit. She then offered to take care of Trixie while Mrs. Chatham and Mr. Drew talked. Nancy led the child to an anteroom and took the crayon sketch from her handbag.

“I have a picture to show you,” Nancy said. “This is a drawing I made last night.”

“It’s that same ghost!” she cried. “Take it away, please! Even the picture scares me!”

Nancy hugged the little girl and spoke soothingly to her. In a moment Trixie’s fears were gone. Soon Mrs. Chatham and Mr. Drew came out of his private office.

“Everything is arranged,” the widow declared happily as she turned to Nancy. “Your father prepared the papers I’ll need in New Kirk and made an appointment with the bank’s president. Nancy, you’re to go with me.”

“Wonderfull” Nancy exclaimed, flashing her father a grateful glance. “When do we leave?”

“In two hours, if you can be ready.”

“I can be ready in fifteen minutes.” Nancy laughed. “How about plane reservations?”

“I made them by phone,” Mr. Drew put in.

“Did you hire guards to watch your home?” Nancy asked Mrs. Chatham.

“Yes, two men are there.”

Nancy looked at Trixie, then drew the woman aside. “Perhaps Ellen Smith could come to your house and take care of Trixie while we’re away.”

Mrs. Chatham was pleased at the suggestion. Fortunately Nancy was able to reach Ellen by phone. She said she would gladly stay with Trixie. Ellen could barely contain her excitement when told of Mrs. Chatham’s generous invitation to go on a cruise in search of the treasure island.

Then she said, “About Trixie, I’ll have to leave tomorrow afternoon.”

“We’ll be back by that time,” Nancy replied, then hung up. “Mrs. Chatham, it’s all arranged.”

The grateful woman relayed the news to Trixie, who was delighted.

After the Chathams had gone, Mr. Drew turned to his daughter. “Besides Ellen, have you told anyone else about going to New Kirk?” he asked.

“I discussed it with Hannah. That’s all.”

Mr. Drew nodded approval. “I’ve advised Mrs. Chatham to keep the reason for her trip a secret.”

“You think someone may follow us?”

“I doubt that, but it’s better to be cautious,” her father said. “The Browns have demonstrated their intense interest in the map, Nancy. That’s why I want you to be careful.”

“I will, Dad. And now I have something for you.”

She handed him the crayon sketch of the Ship Cottage “ghost” and told him of Trixie’s positive identification.

“I’ll tell the police,” he offered, studying the face. “I hope Trixie was sure and not just frightened by the sinister-looking face.”

“She is very bright,” Nancy replied. “I believe we can depend on her. Well, I must hurry to catch the plane!”

Aided by Mrs. Gruen, Nancy quickly packed an overnight bag and changed into traveling clothes. A short time later she and Mrs. Chatham were winging toward New Kirk. At the end of a speedy but uneventful trip, they checked into a hotel and then proceeded to the bank.

No sooner had they entered when Mrs. Chatham began to display signs of nervousness. While she and Nancy waited to see the president, the widow fingered the legal papers Mr. Drew had given her.

“Now what was it your father told me to say?” she asked in panic. In the same breath she continued, “Won’t you do the talking, Nancy?”

“I’ll be glad to if you wish, Mrs. Chatham.”

Nancy had only a few moments to glance over the material before she and Mrs. Chatham were ushered into the private office of Mr. Dowell, the president. Nancy made a simple presentation of the case, offering proof of Mrs. Chatham’s identity. She also gave the man a letter requesting the opening of Captain John Tomlin’s safe-deposit box.

“For a long time we’ve tried to locate Captain Tomlin or his heirs,” Mr. Dowell said. “Rentals on the box have accumulated, you know.”

“I’ll be glad to pay whatever amount is due the bank,” Mrs. Chatham said. “May we look at the contents today?”

“I fear that will be impossible,” the banker answered. “However, if we find your papers in good order, it’s possible the box can be opened tomorrow in the presence of someone from the surrogate’s office.”

After making an appointment for nine o’clock the following day, Nancy and Mrs. Chatham returned to the hotel. Despite their disappointment, the two thoroughly enjoyed the evening at a fine restaurant.

At bedtime Nancy was summoned to the telephone. Mrs. Chatham, who had been calling her home, said Ellen Smith wished to speak to her.

“Oh, Nancy,” Ellen said in a strained voice, “please don’t stay away any longer than you have to. I didn’t want to frighten Mrs. Chatham, but her place is terribly spooky, with creepy shadows in the garden. Twice I’ve called to the guards but no one answered. I don’t believe they’re even on duty.”

For the sake of Mrs. Chatham, Nancy kept calm. “Ellen, why don’t you ask Hannah Gruen to come over? Dad has to be away tonight and tomorrow, I know, so she’s alone. Please do that.”

The girl promised, relief in her voice. Nancy went to bed but found it hard to sleep and was awake early. She hoped Mrs. Chatham’s business could be attended to at once and an early return made to River Heights. When the two reached the bank, Mr. Dowell greeted them cordially and presented an official from the surrogate’s office.

“The box will be opened without further delay,” he assured them. “I’ve arranged for an inheritance tax man to be here this morning. He’ll list the contents for tax purposes.”

He personally conducted Nancy and Mrs. Chatham to an underground room and sat at one end of a long table.

The tax official directed Nancy and Mrs. Chatham to sit at the far end of the table. Then he and the bank official sat down with the box before them. As the government man raised the lid, the bulky papers that filled the box crackled. He picked up the top envelope and exclaimed, “Hm! What’s this?... ‘Clue to a Treasure’!”

“THAT must be it,” Nancy thought, trying to control her mounting excitement. She and Mrs. Chatham exchanged looks of apprehension. They hoped the official would not ask questions about the treasure. Both were quickly relieved when the men merely glanced at the enclosed sheet, put it back, and went on to examine the rest of the papers. Finally the contents were listed. Nothing was taxable. At length Mrs. Chatham and Nancy were left alone.

“Thank goodness!” Mrs. Chatham murmured in relief. “Now we can look in that envelope. Surely it must contain the missing map.”

With trembling fingers she took out the contents.

“It’s a letter,” she said, unable to hide her disappointment.

“Is it signed by Captain Tomlin?” Nancy asked. “Yes, this is his handwriting.”

Did the letter tell what became of the missing treasure
map?
Nancy wondered.

Her voice vibrant with emotion, Mrs. Chatham read the entire note aloud. In it her first husband revealed details of his early life never before disclosed to her, including the fact he had dropped the name Abner because he did not like it. There were other facts sufficient to prove that he and Tomlin Smith were twin brothers.

“So that part of the mystery is solved!” said Nancy.

The letter concerned itself mainly with the inheritance originally secreted by Captain Tomlin’s seafaring grandfather.

“Listen to this!” Mrs. Chatham exclaimed as she came to a particularly significant paragraph.

“‘All these years I have kept the torn section of a treasure map given me by my father. Fearing theft I made a copy of it. Only a month ago, this very copy was stolen from my cabin, unquestionably by a member of the crew.’ ”

“What is the date of the letter?” Nancy asked as the widow paused to catch her breath.

“It was written only a week before my husband’s death. He continues:

“‘I have taken the original map and hidden it on the Warwick. This map, if combined with the section in the possession of my missing twin brother, will lead to the discovery of our grandfather’s great treasure.’ ”

“That doesn’t add up!” Nancy exclaimed. “Wasn’t the
Warwick
the name of the vessel your husband sailed?”

“You’re right, Nancy, it was.”

“Then how could he have removed the parchment map from his own ship and still have hidden it there?”

“Perhaps he meant he hid it somewhere in another part of the vessel—away from his cabin,” Mrs. Chatham suggested.

“That doesn’t seem likely,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “No, I’m sure Captain Tomlin never would have risked having the original found by members of his crew. Especially after the copy had been stolen.”

Mrs. Chatham furrowed her brow in bewilderment as Nancy went on, “Apparently he thought you would understand where the map was hidden.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea!”

Nancy was silent for several moments as she reread the letter. Then suddenly her face brightened.

“I get it!” she exclaimed. “Captain Tomlin owned the ship models you have at the studio on Rocky Edge, didn’t he?”

“Yes. He had many of them custom-built.”

“And they were sent to you from the ship after his death?”

“Yes.”

“Among the collection was there a replica of the
Warwick?”

“Oh dear! I can’t remember,” Mrs. Chatham said. “There were so many of the little boats. I sold a few of them.”

Nancy was worried. Mrs. Chatham might have sold the
Warwick!

“You think my husband hid his half of the map in a model of the
Warwick?”
the widow asked.

“Doesn’t that seem reasonable?” Nancy replied.

“Oh, it does!” the woman cried in despair. “And to think I may have disposed of it unwittingly! I’ll have no peace of mind until we find out. We’ll take the first plane home,” Mrs. Chatham decided instantly.

The two were soon en route to River Heights. Aided by a strong tail wind, their plane arrived ahead of schedule.

They hailed a taxi and rode to Rocky Edge. As the cab rolled through the open gate, Nancy observed that no guards were on duty.

“Shouldn’t at least one of the special detectives be stationed at the gate?” she inquired.

“They aren’t detectives,” Mrs. Chatham replied. “My gardener knew two strong men who were out of work, so we gave them the job. I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”

Shortly the taxi pulled up in front of the main house. As Nancy and Mrs. Chatham stepped out, a servant rushed up to them.

“Oh, Mrs. Chatham,” the young woman said, puffing, “what are we going to do? What are we going to do?” she repeated hurriedly. “I’m so sorry, so very sorry.”

The widow put a comforting arm around the girl’s shoulders and tried to remain calm. “Now tell me what the problem is,” she said. “No one’s had an accident I hope.”