Carolyn Keene_Nancy Drew Mysteries 019 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER I - The Haunted House

  CHAPTER II - Curious Revelation

  CHAPTER III - Fantastic Story

  CHAPTER IV - A Strange Lawsuit

  CHAPTER V - The Stolen Parchment

  CHAPTER VI - Sudden Danger

  CHAPTER VII - Ghosts

  CHAPTER VIII - Nancy Investigates

  CHAPTER IX - Shadow of Fear

  CHAPTER X - Valuable Property

  CHAPTER XI - Clue to a Treasure

  CHAPTER XII - Triple Alarm

  CHAPTER XIII - Tracing the Warwick

  CHAPTER XIV - Sneak Attack

  CHAPTER XV - Detective in Disguise

  CHAPTER XVI - A Hoax

  CHAPTER XVII - Puzzling Paper

  CHAPTER XVIII - Treachery

  CHAPTER XIX - Impostor

  CHAPTER XX - The End of the Quest

  THE QUEST OF THE MISSING MAP

  “No! No! I won’t go there!” seven-year-old Trixie Chatham cries out. “The Ship Cottage is haunted!”

  Prompted by her concern for the frightened child, Nancy investigates the small studio on the Chatham estate. What the astute young detective discovers leads her to believe that there is a connection between the mysterious occurrences at Ship Cottage and her search for a treasure island.

  With only a few slim clues to guide her—a half map and Tomlin Smith’s vague memories—Nancy sets out to find Mr. Smith’s long-lost twin brother, who possesses the rest of the map that will pinpoint the location of buried treasure willed to them by their father.

  Constantly beset by danger and intrigue, Nancy countgeously outwits her enemies and solves one of the most challenging cases in her career as a teen-age investigator.

  “Leave here at once and never come back!” the stranger warned

  Acknowledgement is made to Mildred Wirt Benson, who under the pen name

  Carolyn Keene, wrote the original NANCY DREW books

  Copyright1997, 1969, 1942 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam & Grosset Croup,

  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. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 70-86692

  eISBN : 978-1-101-07720-7

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  CHAPTER I

  The Haunted House

  HER golden red hair flying in the wind, Nancy Drew ran up the porch steps and opened the front door of her home.

  She could hear Hannah Gruen, the Drews’ housekeeper, saying to someone in the living room, “Why don’t you tell your mysterious story to Nancy? She’s a really clever young detective.”

  The mere mention of a mystery quickened the pulse of eighteen-year-old Nancy. She dropped her art books and portfolio on the hall table and glanced into the living room.

  “Come in, dear,” said Mrs. Gruen. “You’re home early.”

  “Art school was dismissed at two-thirty today,” Nancy replied.

  Seated on a couch beside Mrs. Gruen was an attractive, dark-haired girl about twenty.

  “Nancy, I’d like you to meet Ellen Smith,” the middle-aged, kindly housekeeper said. “You’ve frequently heard me speak of her.”

  The girls greeted each other, then Ellen said, “I was hoping Mrs. Gruen might accompany me to Rocky Edge this afternoon. I just dread going alone.” She glanced at Hannah.

  “Rocky Edge?” Nancy asked. “Isn’t that the estate along the river?”

  “Yes, it is,” Hannah Gruen replied. “Ellen says she has been offered a summer position there with the owner. If she takes it, the salary will help tremendously toward her tuition at Blackstone College of Music.”

  Ellen added, “My parents have suffered some serious financial reverses. They can’t afford to send me and recently my father was injured in a car accident.”

  “I’m terribly sorry,” Nancy said sympathetically. After a pause she asked, “Are you taking piano lessons?”

  “No. I’m studying voice, but I do play the piano.”

  “Ellen has a lovely voice,” Mrs. Gruen put in. “A few weeks ago she sang on TV, and her teacher is urging her to devote all her time to music and become a soloist.”

  “If only I could!” Ellen murmured wistfully. “But already I’ve borrowed a lot of money and I’m worried about how to pay it back. I want to take the position at Rocky Edge because it pays well, but the place and the people have an air of mystery about them that scares me. Besides, I’m afraid I won’t be able to get along with Trixie.”

  “Who is she?” Nancy inquired.

  “Trixie is Mrs. Chatham’s seven-year-old daughter,” Ellen explained. “I’ve never met her but I understand she’s unruly.”

  “Your job would be to look after her?”

  Ellen nodded. “Mrs. Chatham wants me to live there and give Trixie piano lessons. The mother is a strange person, a widow, and frustrating at times.” Ellen turned to Hannah Gruen and said, “Won’t you please go with me to see Mrs. Chatham and talk about the position?”

  The housekeeper smiled. “Why not take Nancy? She’s had a lot of experience meeting strange people. If Nancy thinks it’s all right for you to accept the position, I’m sure it will be.”

  “I’ll be glad to go,” Nancy said.

  She was eager to help Ellen, and curious about the wealthy and eccentric Mrs. Chatham.

  “I don’t like to put you to so much trouble,” Ellen protested. “But I would appreciate having you with me.”

  “You’re not afraid of Mrs. Chatham?”

  “Not exactly, and I’d try to get along with her and Trixie. I love children and enjoy working with them. At Rocky Edge I’ll have time to practice my vocal work. I was told there’s a small studio on the estate.”

  As Ellen talked, Nancy could not help but wonder, “Is Ellen’s decision difficult to make because of the mysterious story I heard Hannah mention? Is it connected with the position at Rocky Edge? Or is some other, mystery haunting Ellen?”

  As the two girls left the Drew house and walked toward the driveway, Nancy remarked to Ellen, “I heard Hannah say something about a mysterious story.”

  “It has to do with a map and a buried treasure,” the other girl replied as they stepped into Nancy’s car.

  Nancy hoped to hear more about the buried treasure as they rode along, but Ellen turned the conversation toward the two girls’ interest in art: one of them in music, the other in drawing and sketching.

  “What are you specializing in?” she asked Nancy.

  “Drawing figures and faces,” Nancy replied.

  “As a child I always filled in the capital o’s in magazines and newspapers with eyes, nose, mouth and ears, so I guess Dad thought it might be a good idea if I turned my doodling to good account!” She laughed.

  Ellen said, “I hope to do the same with my music. When Hannah Gruen worked for my family years ago, she taught me lots of children’s songs. Hannah was really wonderful to my family. I was always sorry she left, but when Mother and Dad returned from their trip around the world, Mother took charge of our home herself.”

  “My mother,” said Nancy, “died when I was only three and Hannah Gruen has taken care of me ever since. She’s like a member of the family.”

  Ellen nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  The car sped on past the outskirts of River Heights. Halfway to Wayland, Nancy turned into a
shady road and presently drew up near a sign which read Rocky Edge. She drove slowly up a curving tree-lined lane toward the house.

  It was a large rambling structure, half hidden from the road by masses of high, overgrown shrubs. The driveway led to a pillared porch.

  “It’s creepy here, isn’t it?” Ellen remarked nervously.

  “Oh, not really,” Nancy replied. “No trimming has been done on the grounds, but that gives the place atmosphere.”

  “I could do without it,” Ellen said uneasily as they got out of the car.

  She went ahead of Nancy and pressed the bell. Almost at once the door was flung open. The two callers found themselves facing a little girl.

  “I don’t know what you’re selling!” the child cried out. “Whatever it is we don’t want any! So go away!”

  “Just a minute, please,” Nancy said. “We came to talk with Mrs. Chatham about Miss Smith giving her daughter music lessons.”

  The little girl’s dark eyes opened wide as she stared first at Nancy, then at Ellen. She wore her hair in two long braids, and her short dress made her thin legs look like toothpicks.

  “I don’t want anyone to teach me!” the child exclaimed. “There are too many now. If another one comes, I’ll—I’ll run away!”

  “Trixie!”

  Mrs. Chatham, a stout woman dressed in a bright-blue silk dress, had come to the door. Seizing the little girl by an arm, she pulled her away.

  As Trixie began to cry, her mother said con-tritely, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, dear, but sometimes you are impossible.”

  Ellen introduced Nancy to Mrs. Chatham. The woman invited the callers into a living room furnished with bizarre modem tables, chairs, and paintings. She began a lengthy account of her daughter’s shortcomings, regardless of the fact that the child was listening to every word.

  At the first opportunity Nancy rose from her chair and asked Trixie to show her the grounds. As they walked down a shady trail, Nancy smiled at the child, recited a funny limerick, and soon had the little girl laughing gaily.

  “I wish you were going to be here instead of Miss Smith,” Trixie remarked. “I like you.”

  “You’ll like Ellen too,” Nancy assured her. “And I’ll come to see you sometimes.”

  “All right. But I hope she won’t try to boss me like the others did. No one can tell me what to do!”

  “I’m afraid you’ve heard your mother say that to you so often you believe it.” Nancy laughed. “Now let’s forget about being naughty. Suppose you show me the rest of the grounds. Shall we go first to that little house?”

  Through the trees at a spot that overlooked the river, Nancy could see the red roof of what appeared to be a tiny cottage. To her surprise Trixie held back.

  “No! No! I won’t go there!” she cried out.

  “Why not?”

  “Because the place is haunted, that’s why!” The child’s freckled face was tense. “I wouldn’t go inside the Ship Cottage for anything!”

  “The Ship Cottage?” Nancy repeated. “Is that its name?”

  “It’s what I call it. Please, let’s go the other way.”

  Trixie tugged at Nancy’s hand but could not make her turn in the opposite direction.

  “I’m sure there’s no reason why you should be afraid,” Nancy said gently. “If you won’t come, then I’ll go alone. I’ll prove to you that the place is not haunted.”

  “Please don’t go there,” the child pleaded frantically. “You’ll be sorry if you do.”

  “What makes you so afraid of it?”

  The little girl would not answer. Jerking free, she ran off in the opposite direction.

  “Poor child,” Nancy thought, shrugging. “I do feel sorry for her.”

  Nancy was sure that Trixie was watching her from a distance as she walked slowly down the path to the quaint little house. The door was unlocked and Nancy went inside. The one-room cottage was pleasant though dusty, and was lined with shelves of books. In the center of the floor stood a very old grand piano. The ivory keys had turned yellow and cobwebs festooned the mahogany case.

  “It’s probably out of tune,” she mused.

  Nancy crossed the room and ran her fingers over the bass keys. Not a sound came from the instrument. Nancy was bewildered, and played a series of chords. Although she depressed the keys again and again no notes came out.

  “That’s strange!” she thought.

  Nancy bent to examine the pedals to see if the piano had a spring lock that prevented the strings from being struck. There was none.

  As she was about to lift up the lid of the piano Nancy noticed several ship models on the mantelpiece and others on tables.

  “So that’s why Trixie calls this place Ship Cottage,” Nancy murmured, taking down one of the fine models from the mantel. “Undoubtedly this is the music studio Ellen mentioned.”

  “I won’t go there! It’s haunted!” Trixie called out

  After carefully replacing the small ship, Nancy heard a sound behind her. At the same moment she caught a reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. What she saw sent icy chills down her spine. A wall panel behind her had slid open. A bearded man with cruel, beady eyes was watching her every move.

  “Leave here at once and never come back!” he warned in a rasping voice.

  CHAPTER II

  Curious Revelation

  NANCY wheeled around and caught a fleeting glimpse of a long row of brass buttons down the front of the man’s coat. The next instant the panel closed noiselessly.

  As Nancy dashed toward the spot, one hand brushed the piano keys. A crash of chords broke the eerie stillness of the cottage.

  Nancy tried to be calm but her heart was thumping madly. “I mustn’t let myself be fright. ened,” she told herself.

  Deciding it might be dangerous to investigate the cottage further at this time, she hastily left it. Once outside, she gazed about the grounds. No one was in sight.

  “I’m glad Trixie didn’t come with me,” she said to herself. “I’ve never believed in ghosts and I refuse to do so now. All the same, there’s something very queer about this place.”

  Nancy had inherited an inquiring mind from her father, an eminent criminal lawyer, but she knew the wisdom of using caution in all investigations. Since solving The Secret of the Old Clock, Nancy had built an enviable reputation as an amateur sleuth.

  Now, as she stood staring at Ship Cottage, Nancy wondered why the piano had made no sound when her fingers had moved over the keys the first time.

  “It wasn’t imagination,” she reflected. Just then Nancy heard her name called. Turning, she saw Ellen motioning to her from far up the path.

  “Coming!” Nancy answered.

  “I’m ready to leave whenever you are,” Ellen announced, joining her new friend. “What became of Trixie?”

  “She ran off. You know, Ellen, I rather like her,” Nancy declared with sincerity.

  “Mrs. Chatham speaks so harshly to her daughter,” Ellen remarked. “Then the next minute she’s as sweet as honey. I can’t understand her.”

  “You’ve decided not to take the position for the summer?”

  “I told Mrs. Chatham I’d think it over.”

  Nancy said slowly, “There’s something about Rocky Edge I don’t quite like. Ellen, I wish you wouldn’t come here—at least not until we’ve made a complete investigation of the place.”

  “Why, Nancy,” Ellen exclaimed in astonishment, “have you learned something about Mrs. Chatham?”

  “Not a thing,” Nancy answered. “It’s mostly a feeling I have. I’ll explain it later. When must you give her your answer?”

  “Mrs. Chatham didn’t say, but I imagine she wants to know soon.”

  During the ride back to River Heights, Ellen sensed that Nancy was keeping something from her, and asked if this was true. Smiling, Nancy refused to divulge what she had learned.

  “I’ll tell my secret when you tell yours,” she joked. “But seriously, please don’t a
ccept Mrs. Chatham’s offer until after I talk with my dad.”

  “All right, I won’t,” Ellen promised.

  Nancy drove the girl to a bus which would take her back to Blackstone College, then went to her father’s office. Nancy frequently asked his assistance in solving mysteries.

  Although Mr. Drew was unusually busy, the tall, handsome man laid aside his papers, kissed his daughter affectionately, and listened attentively to her story about the mysterious Ship Cottage.

  “You’re certain you saw the open panel close again?” he asked when she had finished.

  “Yes, Dad. Also, the piano was mute at first. Then later it played. How do you account for that?”

  “I can’t,” the lawyer replied soberly. “However, I think it would be unwise for you to go there again.”

  “Oh, Dad!” Nancy protested in dismay. “How can I help Ellen if I don’t?”

  “Well, don’t go alone,” he amended, flashing her an understanding smile. “You’re all I have, Nancy. You’re very dear to me. Don’t forget that.”

  She hugged him and promised, then asked, “Do you think it would be unwise for Ellen to accept Mrs. Chatham’s offer?”

  “I’d say it would be foolhardy until we’ve checked the place thoroughly.”

  “I had hoped you might be able to tell me something about Rocky Edge, Dad.”

  Mr. Drew gazed out the window for several seconds. Then he said slowly, “It seems to me I do recall some trouble a few years ago at Rocky Edge. But that would have been before the Chathams bought it.”

  “Who owned it previously?” Nancy asked.

  “I can’t remember the name of the man,” her father answered, “but I think he was an inventor and there was an unusual lawsuit against him, due to one of his gadgets. As soon as I can, I’ll look into the matter for you.”

  “I wonder if there might be some connection between the gadgets and the strange things that happened today,” Nancy remarked.

  “I don’t know. It seems to me Mr. Chatham was a friend of the owner and bought the place after the man died. Mr. Chatham himself passed away less than two years ago.”