(#23) Mystery of the Tolling Bell

Nancy becomes involved in a maze of mystery when she accepts an invitation from Mrs. Chantrey, a client of Mr. Drew, to vacation at her cottage in a picturesque seaside town. Carson Drew has promised to join his daughter, but fails to arrive. The alarming disappearance of Mr. Drew and the odd circumstances surrounding his rescue are only the start of a series of highly dangerous adventures for Nancy and her friends Bess and George.

Mrs. Chantrey’s story about a nearby cliffside cave reputedly inhabited by a ghost intrigues Nancy and she decides to investigate. Several frightened townspeople claim to have seen an apparition and heard the weird sounds of a tolling bell just before water rushes from the cave. What Nancy discovers and how she outwits a ring of swindlers will thrill all admirers of the courageous young detective.

“This is what I had hoped to find!” Nancy exclaimed.

Acknowledgement is made to Mildred Wirt Benson, who under the pen name Carolyn Keene, wrote the original NANCY DREW books

Copyright
©
1973, 1946 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam & Grosset Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada.
S.A.

NANCY DREW
MYSTERY STORIES
^®is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster,
Inc. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.

eISBN : 978-1-101-07724-5

2007 Printing

http://us.penguingroup.com

CHAPTER I

The Perfume Cart

“NANCY, aren’t we almost at Candleton? I’m tired of riding.”

An athletic-looking girl, with short dark hair and the boyish name of George Fayne, stretched wearily in the convertible as it sped toward the ocean.

Nancy Drew, eighteen and attractive, was driving. She shrugged her shoulders and breathed deeply of the tangy salt air. A gust of wind blew her reddish-golden hair across her eyes. Tossing it aside, she smiled at the two girls seated with her: Bess Marvin and George. who were cousins.

“A few more miles,” Nancy replied. “But it’s worth waiting for.”

“You mean because of the mystery at Candleton?” Bess asked teasingly. She was blond and pretty. “Right now I’m more interested in food.”

“You shouldn’t be!” George said bluntly, glancing at her cousin’s slightly plump figure.

Nancy laughed. “We have to eat, calories or not. Perhaps we’ll come to a fishing village where we can get some lobster.”

The three girls, who lived in River Heights, were en route to Gandleton on White Cap Bay. They had been invited to spend a brief vacation there as guests of Mrs. John Chantrey. She was a close friend and client of Nancy’s father, a well-known lawyer. He was to meet the girls at her home in the small town.

“I think your father was smart to make the trip by plane instead of riding with us,” Bess observed as the car swung around another sharp curve. “At least he won’t die of starvation.”

“This is really a business trip for Dad,” Nancy said. “Poor Mrs. Chantrey was swindled out of a lot of money. Dad’s trying to get it back.”

“How did it happen?” George asked.

“Dad didn’t tell me many of the details,” Nancy replied. “But he did hint at mystery. Mrs. Chantrey is a lovely person. I hope we can help her.”

“She runs a tearoom?” George inquired.

“Yes. Mrs. Chantrey opened a gift shop and tearoom to make a livelihood for herself after she lost most of her money.”

“I was hoping the mystery at Candleton would be about something more romantic than money,” Bess remarked in disappointment.

Nancy’s eyes twinkled. “There’s another mystery!” she said. “Mrs. Chantrey mentioned in her letter that ghostly and unexplainable things happen along the coast of White Cap Bay.”

George was interested at once. “Are you going to work on that, too?”

“All three of us are!” was the reply.

Nancy’s young life had been crammed with adventure. Daughter of an eminent criminal lawyer, she was unusually sensible, clever, and talented.

Mrs. Drew had died when Nancy was three years old and Hannah Gruen had become the Drews’ housekeeper. The kindly woman was like a mother to Nancy and was constantly warning her to be cautious while solving mysteries.

“If the three of us can’t solve the two mysteries—” Nancy began.

“Look!” Bess interrupted, pointing to a sign. “Fisher’s Cove! We’re coming to a town!”

The road curved and twisted, then abruptly a cluster of quaint, unpainted houses came into view. Fishnets were drying on lines in the back yards. Children stopped their play and stared at the car.

“Apparently few tourists come into town this way,” Nancy commented, steering carefully to avoid a street peddler who carried a basket of fish on his head. “We seem to be curiosities!”

The girls looked hopefully for a place to eat. As Nancy turned left onto Main Street, they saw two hotels and several restaurants. Bess noted a sign with the name Wayside Inn and an arrow pointing up a narrow lane.

“Let’s go there,” she suggested.

Presently they came to a freshly painted, white house overlooking the surf. It proved to be cool, clean, and inviting. Although it was late for luncheon, the woman in charge assured the girls she could serve them.

The trio found the meal very appetizing. In addition to lobster and puffed shrimp there were tomatoes, coleslaw, potatoes, hot biscuits, lemonade, and apple pie.

“I know I’ve gained a dozen pounds!” Bess moaned as they paid their bill and left the inn.

“I feel like a puffed shrimp myself!” groaned George. “Let’s walk around Fisher’s Cove awhile for exercise before we drive on.”

Although eager to reach Candleton, Nancy agreed to the suggestion. They took a path which led from the sandy shore to the shopping area of the village.

Here the girls found an interesting combination of the old and the new. An ancient surrey rattled past, drawn by a tired-looking white horse. The reins were held by an elderly man with a long, flowing beard.

Then a high-powered sports car sped by, a pretty girl at the wheel. Natives were a striking contrast to members of the summer colony who wore scanty beach clothes.

“Look!” cried Nancy suddenly as the girls reached a corner. “Isn’t that attractive?”

From a side street came the musical tinkle of a bell. Then a dark-haired, heavy-set woman pushing a flower-decked cart came into view. Seeing the girls, she moved briskly toward them.

“Wonder what she’s selling,” Bess said in an undertone.

Dangling from a wire stretched between two poles on either side of the cart were strings of tiny red metal hearts and a little bell. The woman, who looked to be of foreign birth, wore a red skirt and white blouse with a large red heart embroidered on one sleeve. As she came alongside the girls, she addressed them in a torrent of words.

“You buy from Madame? I sell all zese articles for beautyment. Come see.” She held up a bottle of perfume, some face powder, and a lipstick. Then she rolled her eyes and smiled. “Zese products make mademoiselle adored by the boy friend!”

Bess, intrigued by the display of cosmetics, fingered a large heart-shaped compact.

“Very chic—very cheap,” the woman said in a singsong voice. “Seven dollars, please.”

“But I don’t wish to buy,” Bess stammered, putting the compact back on the cart.

“You like better the perfume?” Before Bess could retreat, the woman had uncorked a tiny heart-shaped flask which she waved beneath Bess’s nose. “One drop of this, and piff! The boy friend is yours!”

By this time a large number of persons had gathered about the cart. Many in the crowd were young girls.

“Just like in New York,” Madame announced proudly. “Sold only in the best salons.”

“I don’t recall seeing the brand name before,” Nancy remarked, observing that all the cosmetic containers bore the French words
Mon Coeur.

“It means ‘my heart,’ ” translated Madame.

“How much?” inquired a rather unattractive, large-boned girl with blond hair.

The woman named a high figure.

“That’s a lot of money,” the blond girl commented.

“I give you demonstration to go with it.”