The Clue of the Broken Locket

by Carolyn Keene

  “What do you make of all that?” George asked with suspicion in her tone. “One brother is surly and the other goes out of his way to apologize.”

  “It is strange,” Nancy admitted. “I think we should take advantage of Karl Driscoll’s offer and inspect the grounds very soon.”

  Cecily was eager to do so and it was decided that they would go directly after luncheon. Back at the cottage, the girls were delighted to find that bottled gas had been delivered.

  “Oh boy, hot water!” Bess exclaimed. “Me for a relaxing bath.”

  “Not now,” George said. “Sleuthing comes first.”

  The girls had a quick lunch and directly afterward put on hiking clothes and shoes and started up the lake path to Pudding Stone Lodge. From boundary markers they discovered that the property was very large. Their search went on all afternoon, both in the vicinity of the stone house itself and over the grounds. There was no sign of an iron bird.

  Finally Bess suggested they give up. “I’m so tired I could break into pieces,” she said. “Let’s go back to the cottage.”

  Though disappointed, the others agreed. They luxuriated in hot baths, rested for a little while, and then had supper. Afterward, Cecily proposed that they go to town. “I’d like to try telephoning Niko and the Waynes again.”

  At seven o’clock they set off for the village. All the stores were closed with the exception of Eddie’s Soda Shop.

  As Cecily went into a phone booth, the other girls engaged Eddie in conversation. They learned he was a newcomer in town but was doing very well.

  “People around here must like ice cream,” Bess remarked.

  “They sure do. In fact, people come from miles away to get my ice cream. It’s good as homemade.”

  “In that case, I can’t resist a double helping,” Bess said with a giggle.

  “What kind?”

  “Vanilla,” Bess replied with a twinkle. “With hot fudge sauce.”

  “Coming right up,” said Eddie.

  Nancy and George said they would take the same. As they were being served, Cecily came from the booth and sat down at the table.

  Eddie stared at her. “I’m glad you came in,” he said. “The record you ordered is here.” He grinned. “You owe me a dollar.”

  Cecily in turn stared at him in amazement. “I’ve never been in your shop before,” she said. “This is the second time I’ve been mistaken for another girl. I’d certainly like to meet her!”

  Eddie looked bewildered. “Well, if you say so, it must be true.” He shook his head. “But you two girls sure look alike.”

  “Where does the girl live?” Nancy asked.

  Eddie shrugged. “She didn’t say. Just told me she’d be back. Say, the record’s nifty—Niko Van Dyke’s latest.”

  His listeners were astounded. Cecily cried out, “Niko’s record! Why, he—I—” She did not finish the sentence.

  The girls did not explain to Eddie, but Nancy asked if he would mind playing the record. “And if you have another, I’ll buy it.”

  “I have plenty now. They sell like hot cakes. I can’t keep ’em on hand long.” He went into a back room.

  Cecily was blinking furiously, on the verge of tears. She explained to the girls that she had failed again to reach the Waynes or Niko. “I’m so worried,” she said. “He may be really angry. I wish I could see him!”

  Nancy said soothingly, “I am sure you will soon.”

  Eddie came back with a record and played it for them. The girls listened intently to the Flying Dutchmen’s number and at the end voted it an excellent piece.

  “It’s Niko’s best,” said Eddie. “He must be making a pile of money!”

  A pained expression came over Cecily’s face and George quickly suggested she have some ice cream. “Thanks, but I’m—I’m not hungry,” said the red-haired girl.

  When the others had finished eating, Nancy picked up the record and they left. George, who was ahead of the others, stopped to look in a shop next door. It was called the Gift Emporium. She called her friends’ attention to the display window. In it, hanging as a wall plaque, was an ornamental iron bird.

  “This gives me an idea,” said George. “Let’s ask if there’s an ironmonger around here. He might still have some information in old files of an iron bird having been made long ago for Pudding Stone Lodge.”

  Cecily brightened at once. “That’s a great idea, George,” she said. “We can start inquiring tomorrow.”

  After this, Cecily acted more like her animated self and conversation was lively and cheerful on the way home.

  As they were about to unlock the door to the cottage, Bess, who was facing the lake, gave a scream. “Listen! Look!”

  The others turned in her direction. They could hear a ship’s bell ringing! Up at the misty end of the lake, the girls were startled to see an old-time excursion launch, brightly lighted. It moved slowly, as if against a buffeting wind.

  Passengers, dressed in clothes of the early 1900’s, walked about freely. They were talking and laughing.

  “The phantom ship!” Cecily said in a hushed voice.

  The girls’ hearts began to beat faster. Could they believe their eyes? Was the story true? But where did the ghost ship come from?

  Bess stuttered nervously, “I—I h-hope it doesn’t come down here!”

  Suddenly from the phantom craft came a scream of terror. The launch began to list. The next second all the lights went out and the boat vanished!

  CHAPTER VII

  The Bull’s-Eye Window

  BESS shrieked as the phantom launch disappeared underwater. “I’ve—I’ve never believed in ghosts,” she said shakily, “but now I’m afraid I do!”

  George looked at her scornfully. “Ghosts, nothing! There must be some logical explanation.”

  Cecily had little to say except that she was mighty glad the girls were with her. “I would have been terrified staying here alone!” she added. “I don’t blame Henry Winch a bit for wanting to move.”

  Nancy suggested they go to bed early. “I don’t believe the ghost ship will bother us,” she said reassuringly.

  The young sleuth did not say anything to the others but determined to get up early and investigate the far end of the lake to see if she could pick up any dues to the weird apparition. She awoke at daylight, dressed quickly, and slipped out of the cottage. Nancy followed the path along the water, and crossed the beach below the lodge. Then she set off through the woods. As she reached the area of fog, Nancy saw a swampy stretch before her.

  “It won’t hurt me to slosh through,” she said to herself gamely. Holding her shoes, she waded in. “Why, the water’s warm!” Her theory that there were probably hot springs in that section of the lake had proved to be correct.

  The swamp was about three hundred feet long. It was more treacherous than Nancy had bargained for and she found herself floundering and slipping until she was soaking wet. The girl detective smiled.

  “This is a crazy procedure,” she told herself. “I haven’t picked up one single clue, and what a mess I am!”

  Nevertheless, Nancy pushed on and after a while reached dry land. The trees were thick here, but just beyond them was a large, relatively cleared area, with scrubby bushes and tall grass as well as a few saplings.

  In the center of the clearing stood the tumble-down remains of an old-fashioned bandstand. Nancy examined the platform and the storage area underneath, but found nothing to suggest an answer to the phantom ship.

  Disappointed, she turned back and reached the cottage just as the other girls were getting up. They stared at her.

  Nancy grinned. “Yes, I know I’m a sight. But it was all in the cause of trying to solve the mystery of that phantom ship. However, I learned absolutely nothing.” She added laughingly, “It must rise out of the water, after all.”

  The others knew she was teasing and were sorry she had found no explanation. Cecily remarked, “I’ll never feel completely safe here until that mystery is cl
eared up. Nancy, do you have some theory about it?”

  The girl detective shrugged. “I’ve been wondering about those people at Pudding Stone Lodge. This ghost-ship business started after they moved there.”

  “You mean they could be connected in some way with the mirage or whatever it is?” asked George.

  Nancy looked thoughtful. “It’s a possibility. Anyhow, I’d like to do some investigating in the area of the lodge. Please don’t mind if I skip helping with the dishes.”

  “Do you think you’ll be safe alone?” Cecily asked fearfully.

  Nancy assured her she would be and said she might be able to hide among the trees better if she were alone. She changed into dry clothes, and directly after eating, set off.

  This time, Nancy chose a vantage point on the side of the house which faced the lake. Her attention was drawn to a third-floor window, called a bull’s-eye window because of its roundness and small size.

  Suddenly Nancy tensed. Sharp flashes of light were coming from the room where the bull’s-eye window was. Apparently a mirror was being used to reflect sunlight.

  Nancy watched intently to see if anyone would appear at the window, but no one did. “Maybe the pane is too high from the floor,” she thought.

  The young sleuth could well believe that something strange was going on inside the big stone house and even that someone was signaling for help. Her mind conjured up all sorts of possibilities about a prisoner who was bound and gagged in the room.

  “I certainly can make a deep, dark mystery out of almost anything,” she chided herself with a smile as she moved away. Nancy realized she had been gone from the cottage for some time and no doubt the other girls were eagerly awaiting her return so they might all go to town to start their investigating.

  When Nancy arrived at the cottage, she heard Niko’s hit record being played and realized Cecily must be using the cottage owner’s phonograph.

  “Sounds better than it did last night,” Nancy thought, walking in. She mentioned this to the others.

  Cecily said it was her very own record which Niko had given her. Nancy, curious, went for her disc and put it on the player. It was good, but definitely not so clear-cut as the other.

  “It does sound different,” Cecily conceded. “Not so sharp. Sometimes it seems a bit fuzzy.”

  Nancy picked up the two records and compared them. Although at first glance they looked exactly the same, she noticed that the label on hers was paler than the other.

  “These records have the same serial number,” said Nancy, “but it’s just possible the one I bought last night is a pirated recording.”

  “You mean,” said Bess, her eyes opening wide in astonishment, “that someone is forging Niko’s records and selling them?”

  “It’s possible,” Nancy answered. “I think we should ask Eddie where he bought this supply of records. Also, I think you, Cecily, should telephone Niko’s record company and tell them.”

  Nancy said she had still another suggestion. “Let’s drive on to the county seat at Ridgeton. One of us can go to the courthouse and trace the ownership of Pudding Stone Lodge as far back as possible.”

  The other girls were ready, so as soon as Nancy showered and dressed for town, they set off. As they were driving past Henry Winch’s dock, they saw the stocky man coming out of the rear of his store with a suitcase and an armful of clothes.

  “He’s leaving!” George exclaimed.

  Nancy stopped and asked him if this were true and he said Yes, indeed—he was not going to stay in that haunted spot another night. She urged him not to be hasty, saying she was sure the girls would get to the bottom of the launch mystery soon.

  “I sure wish you could,” he answered. “I tell you it would save this lake as a summer resort.”

  Nancy smiled. “After all, Mr. Winch,” she said, “no harm has come to you. Why not wait a few days? We’re not far away if you need help.”

  “Well, I’ll think about it,” he said. “Maybe I won’t go right now.”

  “I’d like to rent a canoe from you,” Nancy went on. “I may want to inspect that phantom ship at close range.”

  A wild look came into Mr. Winch’s eyes. “Don’t, Miss Drew! It ain’t safe! I’ll leave a canoe at your cottage, but you’d better think twice, young lady, before you go up in that foggy area.”

  “All right, I will,” Nancy promised.

  When they reached the main road, Nancy stopped the car. “The county seat is to our left, and Misty Lake to our right. Why don’t we go to Ridgeton first and see about an ironmonger, then stop at Eddie’s on the way back?”

  This was agreed upon and Nancy turned left. As they rode along, she told about the flashing light from the bull’s-eye window of Pudding Stone Lodge. George said, “I believe it was just the sunlight glinting on the glass.”

  Cecily and Bess were inclined to think there was more to it, but could offer no explanation which Nancy had not already thought of.

  When they reached the county courthouse, George offered to do the research work and try to find the identity of the original owner of Pudding Stone Lodge.

  “Good,” said Nancy. “Bess and I will inquire about an ironmonger while Cecily phones the record company.”

  The girls separated. Nancy made several inquiries and learned that a Mr. Finnerin was the present owner of an ironmongering establishment which had been in town for over a hundred years. The business was housed in a small building on a very narrow cobblestone street.

  Mr. Finnerin said that unfortunately his old ledger had been destroyed by fire and he personally had no knowledge of the sale of any iron bird to Pudding Stone Lodge.

  “But why don’t you look around at some samples of our old-time work?” he suggested. “Maybe it will help you.”

  The company had set aside one room of old and new products. The antique birds included cranes for the garden, and owls and eagles for roof cornices and door knockers.

  “This is probably the type of thing we should look for,” Bess whispered to Nancy, and her friend nodded.

  The girls thanked Mr. Finnerin and walked back to a tearoom where the four girls had arranged to meet for luncheon. After they gave their orders, each told what she had found out. Cecily had still been unable to reach either Niko or the Waynes. She had had a talk with an official of the record company, however, and he had asked that someone bring the two records to their office in Baltimore.

  “They’re very much interested in your theory of piracy, Nancy,” she said. “I think you should be the one to go.”

  “I’d be glad to. But let’s decide tomorrow.”

  George said she had learned that the original owner of Pudding Stone Lodge was André Delaroy and it had been built in 1825. His two sons were Simon and William. She smiled at Cecily. “It sure looks as if Pudding Stone Lodge was really your ancestor’s home.”

  Cecily was greatly excited, and listened intently as George went on, “The property was inherited by Simon Delaroy’s only child, Ann. She married a Wayne.”

  “Oh, George, that’s wonderful!” Cecily said, her eyes dancing. “We are looking in the right place for the iron bird! Just think! The old family treasure must be buried some place at the lodge. As soon as we finish eating, let’s go back and make plans.”

  “But first we must stop at Eddie’s Soda Shop,” Nancy reminded her, “and find out the name of the jobber who supplied him with Niko’s records.”

  When they reached the shop, Nancy suggested that they purchase some candy and nuts so that Eddie would not be suspicious. As he was filling the order, she asked casually, “By the way, Eddie, who supplies you with records?”

  The soda-shop owner grinned. “I suppose you mean Niko’s hit. I can get all you want. They come from a local jobber. His name is Neal Raskin.”

  “I don’t need any more right now, but when I go home—” Nancy left the sentence unfinished. Quickly she consulted a telephone directory and found that Raskin’s office was located near town, on th
e highway.

  As the girls walked toward the car, Nancy said, “Cecily, why don’t we drop you and George at Neal Raskin’s office while Bess and I search again for the iron bird?”

  “You’ll come back to pick us up?”

  “Yes.”

  Cecily said she was torn between two desires—to hunt for the bird and to help Niko. She finally agreed to go with George and find out more about the record.

  Nancy and Bess drove off. “We’ll leave the car at the cottage,” said Nancy.

  When they reached it, the girls were surprised to see a note tacked to the door. It said:

  Come to lodge. Bird is found.

  K. Driscoll

  CHAPTER VIII

  Mean Relatives

  “OUR search is over!” said Bess. “Now we won’t have to hunt for the iron bird after all.”

  Nancy frowned. “I don’t trust Karl Driscoll. It would be dreadful if he has already opened the bird and found directions to the fortune! He may try to claim it.”

  “Cecily would be crushed,” Bess commented.

  The girls hurried outside. Nancy now noticed that the canoe had been delivered. Thinking she had better put the paddles in the cottage, she went down to the lake front. Tied to the paddles was a key and a note requesting that the canoe be returned to Winch’s boathouse when the girls were finished with it. The key was to be left with Mrs. Hosking.

  Nancy felt that the message also meant Henry Winch had decided to go away. “If I can only solve this mystery,” she thought, “I’m sure he’ll come back.”

  She put the paddles in the cottage and with Bess started off for Pudding Stone Lodge. They were met at the door by Karl Driscoll and his wife, who smiled upon being introduced to the girls. Both seemed very pleasant and told Nancy they had conducted a search and found an iron bird in a cellar storage room.

  “This may be the one your friend is looking for,” said Mr. Driscoll. “If so, you’re welcome to take it. Follow me.”