The captain’s morning paper, neatly folded, lay on the deck where it had been pitched by a delivery boy.
“Maybe something has happened to him in his cabin. I’m going down and take a look,” Nancy declared.
“Please don’t,” pleaded Bess, whose apprehension had returned. “Let the police investigate this.”
“If anything’s wrong with the captain, he needs us immediately,” Nancy reasoned, hurrying down the companionway.
She found the door to his cabin standing open. The girl was shocked at the sight that met her eyes.
The captain’s bunk was torn apart, and the drawers beneath it had been forced out and splintered. The wardrobe door gaped open and clothing was strewn about the room. An old chest looked as though it had been hacked with an ax, and there were great gashes in the beautiful paneled walls.
“Oh, Nancy,” Bess gasped, “who would do such a horrid thing?”
George shook her head. “The captain will be terribly upset when he sees this. Old Grizzle Face must have come back during the night.”
“I’m calling the police right now,” declared Nancy.
Detectives Mallory and O’Shea of the Boston Police Department arrived promptly. With thoroughness and efficiency they examined the damage in the captain’s cabin, and investigated the entire ship looking for some clue to the vandal. In the meantime, the girls straightened up Captain Easterly’s quarters as best they could.
Finally the detectives returned and summed up the situation. Detective O’Shea said, “There’s been unlawful trespass and considerable property damage, that’s plain. Whether there’s been robbery, too, only the captain himself can say. Know when he’ll be back?”
Nancy told the officer she had not heard from the captain for two days. “My father and I were to meet him here yesterday morning. But Captain Easterly didn’t appear.”
“Know where the captain can be reached?”
“Who would do such a horrid thing?” Bess gasped
Nancy shook her head, frowning. “I honestly don’t think he expected to be away. He was very anxious to have my father—he’s a lawyer—trace the ship’s title. He’d surely want to keep the appointment.”
“And another thing, Captain Easterly knew someone had been coming aboard the Bonny Scot secretly. He wouldn’t leave it unguarded—the whole night.”
Mallory’s eyes narrowed. “Think there’s been foul play, Miss Drew?”
“I hope not,” Nancy said earnestly. She told the officers about the anonymous telephone call to her father in River Heights, warning him to stay away from the clipper ship. She also spoke of the mysterious sailor who had pushed her into the wardrobe.
“Describe him, please,” O’Shea requested.
“We call him Grizzle Face,” George put in. Nancy gave the detectives a detailed description of the sailor in dungarees. “Whoever he is,” she added, “he must be looking for something of great value. That’s why I’m worried about Captain Easterly.”
“You mean you think the skipper has been kidnapped?” Bess asked excitedly.
Detective Mallory frowned. “Let’s stick to facts, girls. Is there any other information you can give us?”
Nancy, wondering if Flip Fay might be involved in any way, asked if they had been notified that the robbery suspect might be in Boston. O’Shea said he had seen the report on Fay.
“Do you know him?” Mallory inquired.
“We all do,” Nancy said. “He used to work at a service station in River Heights.”
“Why don’t we give you girls a ride to police headquarters?” O’Shea suggested. “I think the lieutenant would like to talk to you.”
“Nancy, you can tell the lieutenant everything he wants to know,” Bess suggested. “We’ll do some sightseeing and meet you at lunchtime.”
They settled on a restaurant in the center of the city. George and Bess left for a tour of the historic spots in Boston, and Nancy accompanied the detectives to headquarters to meet Lieutenant Hennessy.
At the lieutenant’s request, Nancy recounted once more the strange events which had taken place in River Heights before she and her father had come to Boston. She also described Flip Fay as accurately as she could.
“Anything else?”
“Fay dropped a ring, which I found after the robbery and gave to the River Heights police. There was a strange F on it.”
“Strange?” Hennessy repeated.
“Yes, it looked like—” Nancy searched her mind for the right word—“like a crow’s foot.”
Hennessy’s eyes widened. “Did you say a crow’s foot?”
“Yes.”
The lieutenant went to a file of records, pulled out a folder, and handed Nancy a sheet of drawing paper.
“Something like this?” he asked.
Nancy’s heart gave a leap. On the paper was the sketch of a symbol—the identical crow’s-foot F she had seen on Flip Fay’s ring!
“That’s exactly like it, Lieutenant Hennessy!” she exclaimed.
The officer leaned back in his swivel chair, a smile of satisfaction on his face. “You say you think you saw this man here in Boston?”
Nancy nodded. “Yesterday. Down at the waterfront, near the Bonny Scot. He drove away in a taxi, and I tried to follow in mine, but lost him.”
“Young lady,” the lieutenant said gravely, “you’ve given us some very important information. This peculiar-looking F is the mark of a dangerous criminal. He’s known to the police as The Crow!”
CHAPTER VI
Unexpected Visitors
THE lieutenant said the police had been gathering evidence against The Crow for six months but had not caught up with him.
“We know the jobs that fellow’s pulled,” the officer said, “because he leaves a crow’s footmark behind. Vain fellow, and a clever jewel thief.”
“How does he leave it?” Nancy asked.
“Various ways. Cut into wood. Painted on a wall. I guess he was in too much of a hurry to bother with it at your friend’s house.”
The officer leaned toward Nancy, his voice deliberate. “If I were you, Miss Drew, I would be wary. Extremely wary. The Crow knows you. You interfered with his work once, and he stopped you. If you get in his way again—” Lieutenant Hennessy shook his head gravely.
But Nancy was not thinking of her own safety. She was trying to figure out how Fay might be caught.
“I thought maybe Flip was trying to get away by skipping out of the country,” she ventured. “Maybe that’s why he’s in Boston.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Thanks to you, Miss Drew, we now know the identity of The Crow. And we have his description. I’ll alert all seagoing craft immediately.”
Lieutenant Hennessy stood up and shook hands with Nancy. “You’ve helped us tremendously,” he said. “I’ll keep in touch with you.”
It had been a highly exciting morning, thought Nancy, as she came out of police headquarters. It was now eleven-fifteen and she was to meet the girls at one. Meanwhile, perhaps she could locate the present owner of the Bonny Scot. Captain Easterly had said his name was Farnsworth, but had not given his address.
Nancy consulted a telephone directory. There were a number of Farnsworths in the area. She got a supply of coins, and made several telephone calls to the surrounding towns. Finally a Mr. Elijah Farnsworth, real-estate broker, said that he was the owner of the old clipper ship. Identify ing herself as Carson Drew’s daughter, Nancy made an appointment at his office.
The elderly man received her courteously. “I don’t mind saying I’d be proud to do a service for the daughter of a man so highly regarded as your father is by Captain Easterly.”
Nancy smiled her appreciation. Then she told him of the suspicious events that had taken place on board the Bonny Scot, and of the damage that had been done to the captain’s quarters during his absence.
The owner of the clipper ship bounded from his chair. “Why, that’s outrageous!” he declared.
“I’m worried
about Captain Easterly,” Nancy said. “He hasn’t been aboard since day before yesterday. Do you suppose he’s being held prisoner somewhere?”
“What’s that?” the man asked, astounded.
He declared he would get in touch with the police at once, but Nancy told him this already had been done. She asked Mr. Farnsworth if he had any idea where Captain Easterly might be if he had gone off voluntarily.
“The captain frequently visits his sister in Marblehead. I’ll phone her.”
The call revealed that the captain had not been to Marblehead for several weeks. Mr. Farnsworth wrinkled his brow, then suddenly snapped his fingers.
“I may have a clue to this mystery after all, Miss Drew,” he said. The man drew a slip of paper from his desk drawer and looked at it thoughtfully. “This morning I had a caller. A persistent, determined fellow. He wanted to buy the Bonny Scot at once, registration papers or not.”
Nancy asked in alarm, “Who was he?”
“His name is Fred Lane. I told him I wouldn’t sell to anybody until the title was clear.”
“What did he look like, Mr. Farnsworth?” Nancy thought of old Grizzle Face, using an assumed name. “Did he have a gray beard?”
“No, he was clean shaven. Rather tall.”
“Did you notice his right hand? Was the middle finger unusually short?”
Mr. Farnsworth looked surprised. “No-o-o, I did notice his fingernails. Clean and well kept.”
The caller could not have been Flip Fay. His nails, Nancy remembered, were broken.
“Mr. Lane left his address, in case I should change my mind,” Mr. Farnsworth said.
He handed Nancy the slip of paper. Written on it was a number and the name of a street near the Boston waterfront.
Nancy thanked him and put the address into her purse. Excitedly she hurried to the restaurant, where she had agreed to meet Bess and George, and had a snack with them.
Then the three girls taxied to the address Mr. Farnsworth had given Nancy. It proved to be a drab apartment house. Inside the vestibule, they looked for the name “Lane” above the mailboxes. No such name was listed.
Nancy rang the janitor’s bell several times. No one answered.
Bess shivered. “Gloomy place. I bet nobody nice lives here.”
At that moment a door opened and a shabbily dressed woman came out with a market basket. The door clicked shut after her.
Nancy greeted her courteously. “I beg your pardon, but do you know of a Mr. Lane living at this address?”
The old woman eyed the three girls suspiciously. Then, muttering under her breath, she hurried into the street.
“Did you hear what she said?” asked Nancy.
“It sounded to me like, ‘Stay out of here,”’ said Bess. “A good idea.”
Nancy pressed the janitor’s bell once more, but in vain, before deciding to leave. She was a bit discouraged. Her clues had brought no definite results yet.
When she and her friends arrived at the hotel, they were surprised to learn they had visitors. Three young men sitting in the lobby put down their magazines and stood up, grinning.
“Ned Nickerson!” exclaimed Nancy. “How nice to see you!”
“Whatever are you doing here?” asked George. “Lose that job you were going to have at camp?”
The young man laughed. “Can’t we relax before going to work? We’re here for a weekend of fun.”
Dave Evans and Burt Eddleton, college friends of Ned whom the girls knew well, were talking to Bess.
“I hear you’ve been visiting an old clipper ship,” Dave remarked. “And there’s a mystery aboard.”
“And what a mystery!” exclaimed Bess. “Nancy, you tell them about it.”
When Nancy had finished her story, Burt clapped his hand to his head. “And I thought we were just going to do some nice quiet dancing.”
“Sounds more exciting to me than dancing,” Ned said. “Let’s go down to the Bonny Scot and look her over.”
After the girls had freshened up, they rejoined the young men in the lobby. Then, talking excitedly, the six young people crowded into a large taxicab and directed the driver to take them to the waterfront.
“I wish you didn’t want to go back to that ship,” Bess told Ned. “It frightens me to death.”
Dave laughed. “I’ll protect you, Bess—I promise.”
“If there are any spooks,” said Burt, “they’ll have a hard time handling all six of us.”
George suggested that they take a short walk along the waterfront “for sea flavor,” before boarding the clipper, so they got out two blocks from the ship. Ned walked eagerly ahead with Nancy, while the other two couples—George and Burt, Bess and Dave—lingered behind.
“Let’s leave them to their window-shopping,” said Nancy. “I want to hurry aboard and see if Captain Easterly has returned.”
As the couple stood in front of a cheap waterfront restaurant, waiting for the traffic light to change, a man inside caught Nancy’s attention. He was sitting at one of the tables, his back to the window.
Nancy touched Ned’s arm. “That man!” she whispered excitedly. “He looks like Flip Fay!”
She tried to get a view of the man’s profile. “If I could only be sure about him! Ned, do something for me?”
“Anything you say, Nancy.”
“Go in there and pretend to be looking for a table. And take a good look at that man’s right hand. Find out if it has a short middle finger.”
Ned grinned. “Okay, cap’n.”
Tensely, Nancy watched Ned swing open the testaurant door, step jauntily inside, and glance toward the table against the window.
Ned was acting his part perfectly. He approached the table where the man with the checkered suit was sitting. Pausing briefly as if looking for an empty table, Ned leaned close to the man Nancy believed was Flip Fay. In his right hand he held a cup of coffee, his middle finger concealed by the cup.
Ned, pretending to trip, deliberately stumbled against the table. The man’s cup went down with a bang, half spilling the coffee, and Ned caught a clear glimpse of his short middle finger.
“Sorry,” the youth said, regaining his balance. But the apology was not enough. The person sitting opposite the man rose suddenly, flung back his chair, and took a menacing step toward Ned.
The next instant his right fist shot out and Ned fell backward.
CHAPTER VII
A Suspicious Story
THROUGH the restaurant window Nancy saw Ned fall, then spring to his feet. At the same moment the man in the checkered suit threw back his chair. He and his companion dashed between the tables and through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
“He must have recognized me!” Nancy thought.
She looked wildly up and down the street for a policeman. The nearest one was a traffic officer a block away. She flung open the restaurant door. The few customers looked on astounded at the fracas, while a waitress edged in alarm toward the wall.
“That man in the checkered suit’s a dangerous criminal!” Nancy cried. “Stop him!”
She followed Ned through the kitchen doors, just in time to see Flip Fay escape into a side street. His friend was not in sight, Ned said. In a second Fay, too, was swallowed up by the traffic. Nancy and Ned abandoned the chase and returned to the restaurant.
“What was all the racket about?” inquired a fat little man with a toothpick in his mouth. He said he was the owner.
“I think the man in the checkered suit is wanted by the police,” Nancy told him. “Do you know who he is?”
The little man shook his head. “No. Nor the guy with him, either.”
The waitress who had served the two men spoke up. “They didn’t talk like they live around here,” the girl said.
“It was Flip Fay, I’m sure,” Nancy told Ned. “I must notify the police. It’s too bad we didn’t get a good look at his friend. Why, Ned, you have a bruise!”
The waitress offered to put a gauze patch on his raw ch
eekbone. Meanwhile, Nancy stepped into the telephone booth and reported to Lieutenant Hennessy the encounter with Fay. When she finished, Ned was ready to go.
“Let’s get down to the ship,” he urged. “I’m more curious than ever about the Bonny Scot.”
They hurried across the dock and boarded the clipper. The other girls were waiting for them with Dave and Burt. They said Captain Easterly had not returned.
“What happened to you, Ned?” Bess asked with concern, looking at his bandaged face.
“One hour with Nancy Drew and I’m in combat,” Ned said, grinning.
Nancy told what had happened. Dave and Burt said they were sorry to have missed it. “The three of us could have taken on those two thugs,” Dave said ruefully.
“I don’t like it,” Bess protested. “Somebody’s going to get badly hurt if you don’t stop interfering with Flip Fay, Nancy.”
“The longer a criminal is at large, the more of a menace he is,” Ned defended Nancy. “Well, let’s look over the Bonny.”
Burt said he and Dave had pretty well covered everything.
“They don’t want to spend their whole weekend snooping over an old ship,” Bess declared.
“Let’s all meet at the hotel for dinner,” George suggested. “And you and Ned be careful, Nancy, do you hear?”
As soon as the others had gone, Nancy showed Ned around the ship. As they descended to the hold of the clipper, she said:
“I’ve never really had a chance to investigate things down here. I’d like to find out how people get on and off this ship without being seen by the dock guards.”
“Black as ink, isn’t it?” Ned muttered, directing the beam of his flashlight over the confusion of barrels and crates and ropes.
“Wait!” Nancy said suddenly. “Put out the light.”
Ned obeyed. For a moment the hold seemed utterly dark. Then, as their eyes became accustomed to the dimness, they could see a crack of light near the top of a pile of boxes. The couple made their way toward it and Ned climbed up.
“It’s a porthole,” he explained. “Not fastened shut,” he added, swinging the light around it.
The Secret of the Wooden Lady Page 4
