(#23) Mystery of the Tolling Bell (11 page)

The tire tracks led to a small print shop in an alley. There the auto had turned in, apparently parked near a side entrance, then gone on.

Inside the building a light burned brightly. A man in a printer’s apron could be seen working over one of the presses.

“It’s ten thirty! That fellow must have a rush order to keep open so late.” Ned observed.

Nancy suggested they talk to the printer and find out if he knew the suspect. The thud of a hand press deadened the sound of their footsteps as Nancy and Ned entered the cluttered little shop. Not until they shouted did the stooped figure whirl around to face them.

“Doggone it all!” he protested. “I wish folks wouldn’t sneak up on me! Always think I’m about to be robbed. Anything I kin do for you?”

“We may want some stationery printed,” Nancy said as an excuse for the interruption. “Would it be possible for you to do it soon?”

“Miss, I couldn’t even touch it for six weeks! Why, I’m wallowin’ up to my ears now in commercial orders. That’s why I’m puttin’ in extra time tonight—tryin’ to get caught up.”

“Do you do much label printing?” Nancy asked casually.

“Makes up about fifty percent of my business. Been doin’ a lot o’ work for the Mon Coeur people lately.”

Nancy was careful not to show her elation at the information. “Oh, yes, I understand they’re putting out another line, too. What’s their new trademark? Is it three bells or—?”

She purposely hesitated, and the old man completed the sentence for her.

“You mean Sweet Chimes.”

“Are you going to do the work for the firm?”

“No. I’m too rushed. Anyhow, that fast-talkin’ foreigner, Monsieur Pappier, said he’d rather give the job to another printer who is closer to where the products are goin’ to be made. Said it wouldn’t pay him to have any more work done here.”

“Where is the place?” Nancy asked, trying to conceal her excitement.

“Let me see. Yorktown! Or maybe it was York-ville. I remember it had a York in the name.”

“Did Monsieur Pappier call on you tonight?”

“Yes, just before you came. This mornin’ he picked up a package. He started talkin’ about that Sweet Chimes idea, and he drew a sketch of the design on the wrappin’ paper. Tonight he came back sayin’ he couldn’t find his package. He thought maybe he’d forgotten to take it, but I guess he lost it.”

“I think I’ve seen Monsieur Pappier,” Nancy said. “Does he have a mustache and beard?”

“No,” the printer replied. “Must be somebody else you have in mind.”

“Probably,” said Nancy. “I’m sorry we kept you so long from your work. Good night.”

Nancy was excited as she and Ned returned to his car.

“It must have been Harry Tyrox, alias Monsieur Pappier, who called on me!” she remarked. “He put on a mustache and beard for a disguise! And he didn’t have a trace of a foreign accent!”

CHAPTER XV

Spanish Scheme

ALTHOUGH it was now after eleven o’clock, Nancy had no intention of abandoning the search for the swindler. Consulting a road map which Ned kept in the car, she discovered that a small city named Yorktown was about thirty miles away.

“Ned, I have a hunch that’s where Monsieur Pappier went! Let’s follow him!”

“All right, if you want to, Nancy. But it’s a long drive. Won’t the folks at home be worried about you?”

“I’ll call Mrs. Chantrey and tell her our plans as soon as we reach Yorktown,” Nancy declared.

Forty-five minutes later she and Ned entered the Yorktown Hotel. While Nancy phoned the Chantrey house, Ned checked with the clerk. Monsieur Pappier had not registered there that night, nor had anyone remotely answering his description, either with or without his disguise, been seen there. Ned also drew a blank on Tyrox and Mr. James.

“Let’s try the motels,” Nancy urged.

“Okay,” Ned agreed.

They made the rounds, but learned nothing. Nancy had known the trip might end in failure, but even so, she was bitterly disappointed.

As she and Ned were walking away from the last motel, Nancy stopped at the adjoining restaurant where there was dancing. She went inside and spoke to the hatcheck girl. When she joined Ned her eyes were sparkling.

“Ned, I just learned something interesting! A Señora Sanchez who sells cosmetics has been in here tonight! She hasn’t registered, but said she was coming back.”

“We’re not trailing a Spanish woman, Nancy, but a French lady.”

“We may be now! Oh, I’ll bet Madame and Monsieur change names and nationality whenever the police get warm on their trail.”

“The police!” Ned exclaimed. “Let’s give this information to them, and start for home.”

Nancy agreed, so a stop was made at the Yorktown Police Headquarters. The desk sergeant assured the couple a close watch would be kept for both Tyrox, alias Monsieur Pappier and Mr. James, and the señora selling cosmetics.

When they reached Mrs. Chantrey’s, lights blazed in the house, indicating to Nancy that her friends had waited up. They greeted them with eager questions. Nancy and Ned related what had occurred in Candleton and at Yorktown.

“I’m sorry not to have a better report,” Nancy said.

“But you learned a lot,” Mrs. Chantrey assured her.

A few minutes later Ned said good night, and everyone wearily went off for a much-needed sleep.

It was early the next morning when Nancy was awakened by George who told her Mr. Drew had arrived from New York. Nancy dressed quickly, then ran downstairs to greet him with an affectionate kiss.

“Did you find out anything about those swindlers?” she asked eagerly.

“No,” he reported in disgust. “Our leads were worthless. Not only Harry Tyrox, but all the rest of his gang have disappeared completely. I hate to give Mrs. Chantrey this bad news.”

“Why not wait a few days?” Nancy suggested.

She told her father about her sleuthing activities since he had left, including the two times she had seen Tyrox; her suspicion that he was in Yorktown; Mother Mathilda’s story which might lead to the arrest of the perfume seller, and what she had learned from the people in Candleton and Branford who had bought Mon Coeur stock.

Although Mr. Drew was shocked to hear about the number of investors in the area, he was delighted at his daughter’s progress with the case. The lawyer decided to drive to Yorktown and learn what luck the police were having in tracing the phony señora. He set off in a rented car.

Left to themselves, Nancy, Bess and George decided to go for a swim. They rented a motorboat and went to Whistling Oyster Cove. After a delightful hour in the water, the three friends lay on their backs in the soft, warm sand. Suddenly Nancy sat bolt upright.

“Why didn’t I think of that before!” she exclaimed, springing to her feet. “It may explain everything!”

“You might try doing a little explaining yourself,” drawled George, tossing a pebble into the water. “What’s cooking now in that clever brain of yours?”

“The best idea I’ve had in a week! Girls, you must go to Bald Head Cave at once!”

“Not inside,” Bess objected. “As a matter of fact, I don’t even want to go close to the entrance.”

“It’s approaching high tide now,” Nancy declared excitedly. “I want to check out a theory of mine at the cave. You girls take me around to the ocean side of the cliff and drop me off where I can swim to shore. Then hurry back to the bay and anchor when you can see the cave entrance.”

“And leave you alone on the cliff!” Bess retorted. “Nothing doing!”

“I’m not silly enough to risk my life,” Nancy replied. “Please don’t worry. But we mustn’t delay or it will be too late to find out if my theory is correct.”

“If Bess and I drop you off, what are your plans?” George asked.

“That depends upon what I find among the rocks on the ocean side. But please hurry. I have to make a search before high tide and you girls must get to your station as fast as possible.”

“Your scheme sounds risky to me,” George said. “But tell Bess and me what we’re to do.”

“You’re to watch the mouth of the cave closely. If the bell tolls or water starts to rush out, note the exact time.”

“What do you expect to discover?” Bess asked.

“I believe that as the tide comes in on the ocean side of the cliff, it may rush through a tunnel in the rocks and gush out the cave entrance.”

“You mean before the tide is very high on the White Cap Bay side?” George asked.

“Yes. You recall that when we heard the bell toll, the tide had not turned in the bay.”

“There may be something to it, Nancy,” George agreed. “But what about the tolling bell?”

“I’ll know more after I’ve made my investigation. Come on! The tide is starting to come in. There’s no time to lose.”

The girls hurried to the motorboat and in a short time rounded the cliff into the ocean.

“Be careful,” Bess urged Nancy.

Nancy made a clean dive out of the boat, swam off, and easily reached the shore. Because the rocks were sharp, she put on her beach shoes which she had tied around her neck. Clinging tightly to precarious holds, she began to climb. By now the tide was coming in fast.

“The tunnel should be here somewhere,” the young detective thought. “I’ll have to work quickly to find it.”

Nancy moved toward a pile of debris deposited by the incoming waves. She crossed this and went toward a definite opening in the rocks. Then suddenly she heard a shout.

Pausing, Nancy glanced toward a ledge where a fisherman was motioning frantically to her. His words sounded like “High tide!” but she did not catch the rest, because the wind was blowing away from her.

Nancy hesitated, then advanced again in her search for an opening amid the rocks.

“Quick!” the fisherman shouted. “Help!”

Now Nancy realized the man was in trouble. Approaching the ledge, she saw that his right leg was pinned beneath a large rock.

Unless the leg could be freed, Nancy knew, the man would drown in the incoming tidel

CHAPTER XVI

The Telescope Spy

As Nancy rushed to his side, the fisherman gasped, “I’m stuck! Loose boulder fell. Got to lift it—tide coming in!”

Nancy looked about for the boat, hoping to call to Bess and George for assistance. But the craft was too far away to signal it.

With a few quiet words Nancy tried to encourage the frantic man. Then she began to tug on the boulder. It moved slightly.

“If you can help me lift this,” Nancy directed, “we’ll have you free in no time. Together now—one, two, three—heave!”

The fisherman struggled to lift, but his position made it difficult for him to apply any leverage to the weight on his leg. As he strained, Nancy began to fear that he lacked the strength for the task.

The onrushing tide was already drenching them both. It would be only minutes before the ledge would be completely engulfed.

“Try again!” Nancy urged. “When we lift the boulder, pull your leg out.”

With one last effort the fisherman was able to help Nancy raise the heavy stone, and managed to free himself.

“Hurry!” Nancy cried as she assisted him to his feet.

She took his hand and pulled him along over the ledge to the safety of higher ground. Both were breathless, and so shattered by the narrow escape that for a few moments they could not speak.

Then the fisherman said, “I’m mighty grateful you came along! You saved my life!”

“I’m glad I could help,” Nancy replied modestly.

“Fishing is my business,” the man began, after introducing himself as Steve Hopkins. “I know these ledges—except, of course, for that loose boulder that cost me a good rod and several worrisome minutes.”

He smiled sheepishly, then turned to Nancy with a frown. “But you never should have been fooling around down there! More than one person’s been drowned when the tide comes in!”

“I knew what I was doing,” Nancy defended her actions. “I came here searching for an opening in the rocks. I know about the cave with its tolling bell and rushing water. I thought I could find an explanation for them over here. The tide wouldn’t have been in for at least ten minutes.”

“I guess maybe that’s so,” the man admitted. “But around these here parts you never can tell what may happen. You say you were trying to find a hole in the rocks?”

Nancy explained her belief that strong waves, dashing through a small opening, might be responsible for the rush of water through the big cave.

“Could be,” Hopkins agreed. “But I’ve lived in these parts for well onto sixty years. I’ve never heard tell of any such hole in the rocks.”

“Did you ever see the ghost or hear the bell?” Nancy asked.

“I’ve never seen the ghost, and don’t want to. But I’ve heard that mournful bell,” Hopkins replied. “Folks figure that the spirit of the young man who joined the pirates comes back to prowl in that cave. They think the bell is the one he had on his dory.”

“A boat with a bell on it might be caught somewhere in the cave,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “Has anyone ever investigated to find out?”

“Folks hereabouts got too much common sense. Anyway, what good would it do for a body to go in there and fetch the bell? Long as it tolls a warning, it keeps a lot of people out of trouble.”

Nancy talked a while longer with the fisherman, but soon was convinced he could contribute nothing to a solution of the baffling mystery. “I’d better go meet my friends on the bay side now,” she said.

“I’ll show you a safe path to it,” Hopkins said. After thanking Nancy again for his rescue, he pointed out a well-worn trail which she followed without difficulty.

Reaching the beach, Nancy saw George and Bess waiting for her a hundred yards from shore. She knotted her shoes about her neck, then plunged in and swam out to the boat.

“What happened at the mouth of the cave?” Nancy asked as soon as she was in the boat. “Did the bell toll?”

“Exactly on the hour,” George replied. “We didn’t see the ghost, but the water did rush from the cave the same as before.”

“Then I’m sure I’m right,” Nancy said excitedly. “By the way, I was just going toward what looked like an opening in the rocks when a fisherman signaled me for help.”