Chapter 4 The Mystery of the Brass Bound Trunk by Carolyn Keene
A Surprise
Nancy was rather impressed by the opinions of her chums. That evening she repeated them to her father at the dinner table.
“Oh, I shouldn’t give Mrs. Joslin any more thought,” he said carelessly. “I promise you’ll sail on the Patrician according to schedule. In fact, there is a special reason why you must take that boat.”
“The Trenton case?” Nancy inquired eagerly.
“Yes, Nancy, Mrs. Trenton and her daughter are sailing on the Patrician. I very foolishly told Mr. Trenton you were taking the same steamer and would do what you could to help Doris.”
“My ideas might not agree with those of her parents.”
“Mr. Trenton thinks his daughter may elope with some man other than young Washburn. He’s bundling her off to South America, hoping to keep her safe, but even so he’s afraid the girl may run off or do something rash just to spite him.”
“I don’t see what I can do about it, Dad.”
“Meet the young woman, become friendly with her, have heart to heart talks with her, and give sensible advice. She may accept it from you when she wouldn’t from her parents. You see what I mean?”
“I see,” said Nancy dryly, “but I don’t like the assignment at all. I thought you were going to give me another mystery case.”
“No mysteries on this trip,” laughed her father. “For once in your life you’ll leave them behind and really enjoy a vacation.”
As the telephone rang, Nancy arose to answer it.
“Let me speak to Miss Drew,” said a gruff voice. “Miss Nancy Drew.”
“This is she speaking.”
“Then listen,” went on the man harshly, “don’t sail on the Patrician next week if you know what’s wise! That’s all, but remember!”
Nancy hung up the receiver and faced her father.
“Who was that?” he asked, rising from the table.
“I don’t know,” Nancy replied grimly, “but I have an idea.” She repeated the warning message.
“I’ll try to trace the call,” Mr. Drew said angrily.
His efforts were useless, for the telephone operator told him the call had been made from a public phone booth.
“Nancy, had you ever heard the voice before?” the lawyer questioned her.
“No, Dad, but it’s my guess the man was Mrs. Joslin’s husband, or perhaps the fellow I saw her with today. Who else would be interested in whether or not I sail on the boat?”
“I don’t like this business in the least, Nancy. Possibly it would be better if you were to change boats.”
“Why Dad! The very idea! I’m not afraid of the Joslins. Anyway, if I don’t sail on the Patrician I’ll not be able to help Doris Trenton.”
“Well, we’ll see,” replied Mr. Drew, frowning. “I’ll try to look into this matter before your boat leaves.”
The following day Nancy went on with her plans as if nothing had occurred. She spent half a day shopping with Bess and George for cruise clothes. While her chums were trying on dresses she found time to write a note of inquiry to the Motor Vehicle Department of the State, requesting the name of the person who owned a car with the registration number on the envelope and posted it in the store’s letter box.
“I hope I get quick action,” she told herself. “Otherwise I’ll not be able to learn the identity of that young man until I get back from South America. And I must return his fifty dollars.”
That afternoon Nancy determined to clear up another matter that worried her. Telling no one of her destination, she set out alone for the factory of Trenton and Washburn, manufacturers of fine luggage. The building, an imposing structure covering half a block, was located at the south side of River Heights.
After trying several entrances the girl came to the main one and entered the office. An indolent young woman allowed her to wait several minutes before inquiring her business.
“I should like to see Mr. Trenton, please.”
“Have you an appointment?”
“No, I haven’t, but I thought——”
“Not a chance to see him without an appointment,” the clerk interrupted. “Mr. Trenton is very busy.”
“My father is an old friend of his. If you will tell him I am here——”
“Mr. Trenton doesn’t like to be bothered at this time of day,” the girl said with finality. “Telephone early tomorrow morning.”
Nancy turned away, feeling irritated at the treatment she had received. She reflected that if customers were not given a more polite reception, the business of Trenton and Washburn soon would be on the decline.
“Maybe I can find the man myself,” she thought.
Passing another open door, Nancy gazed inside curiously. Before her was a room whose walls were lined solidly with trunks and suitcases. Before she could enter it, a package truck came rushing down the hall, nearly colliding with her.
“Say, can’t you keep out of the way?” demanded the boy who pushed it. “You’ve no business to be here.”
“I’m not doing any harm. I merely came to inquire for Mr. Trenton.”
“Orders are orders. None but employees are allowed in this section of the building. Now get out and stay out!”
“Oh, very well,” Nancy said with a shrug. To herself she added, “I’m going to see Mr. Trenton. How can I do what Dad wants me to unless I meet Doris’s father and find out what he’s like?”
She retreated down the hall, but as soon as the boy had wheeled his package truck out of sight, she promptly returned. Walking into the storage room and finding nothing there to hold her interest, she moved on to an adjoining one. Suddenly, hearing voices through a door, she halted.
“I tell you, Trenton, this has gone far enough,” came to her ears. “I’m not going to keep on paying fancy prices for inferior stuff!”
Nancy moved closer to the wall, instantly guessing that a customer was berating Mr. Trenton for having sold him luggage of questionable quality. She could not catch the factory owner’s response since he spoke in a low tone, but the other man’s words reached her clearly.
“When your partner Washburn was alive, there wasn’t any of this sort of thing! A customer got what he paid for! The name Trenton and Washburn stamped on a piece of luggage meant something in those days!”
A telephone rang at an empty desk in the opposite corner of the room where Nancy was standing. Fearing that someone would come to answer it and find her there, the girl reluctantly fled into the hall.
“I wish I might have heard more,” she thought regretfully. “One thing is perfectly clear, however; Mr. Trenton is resorting to questionable methods in carrying on his business. He is trading upon the name of the firm and charging high prices, yet putting out a poor grade of merchandise.”
When her father came home late that afternoon Nancy lost no time in reporting her discovery. As she expected, he found it difficult to believe his client had resorted to dishonorable business practices.
“Trenton must be hard pressed, or he wouldn’t cheapen his line of luggage,” Mr. Drew declared. “Well, I must say I am surprised. His actions throw a different light on everything.”
“In the end, your sympathies may do a right-about-face,” predicted Nancy with a wise nod of her head. “I can’t help but think that Doris has good reasons for refusing to marry Henry Washburn.”
“From something Mr. Trenton said,” replied Carson Drew, “I did get an idea that money might be behind it all.”
As the doorbell rang, Nancy hurried to answer it.
“It’s for me,” she called.
“Ned?” inquired her father with a tolerant smile.
“We’re going somewhere to eat, then to a picture show, I guess,” Nancy explained carelessly. “He asked me over a week ago to be sure and save tonight for him.”
“Have a good time,” Mr. Drew called after her.
Ned glanced critically at Nancy’s high-heeled pumps as she met him at the door.
“Better change those,” he advised with masculine bluntness.
“But why, Ned? If we’re going to a show——”
“Maybe we aren’t,” the young man replied mysteriously.
“Hurry up and get into a pair with low heels. We’re late now.”
“Late for what?” questioned Nancy.
“Oh, you’ll find out,” Ned told her, grinning broadly.
After Nancy obediently changed her shoes, the two set out in the young man’s car. Ned took a road which led to the outskirts of River Heights.
“What is all the mystery anyway?” Nancy asked suspiciously. “Am I being kidnapped?”
“That’s right,” laughed Ned. “We’re here now.”
He whirled the steering wheel and the car rolled into Grantwell Park. At long benches in the grove Nancy caught a glimpse of some twenty or thirty young people.
“It’s a steak roast,” explained Ned, parking the car. “We’re giving it as a sort of farewell for you and Bess and George.”
“Oh, Ned, how nice!”
“Well, I don’t know,” the boy said disparagingly. “The steaks may be pretty tough. I picked ’em out. And it looks as if a storm is kicking up.” He glanced at the sky where heavy clouds had begun to erase the light.
“Oh, it won’t rain, Ned. We won’t let it!”
Springing from the car, Nancy ran to meet her friends. Bess and George already were there. They confessed that the farewell picnic had been a surprise to them also.
The young people built fires in the stoves provided for the purpose, made a hot drink, and cooked sizzling steaks which disappeared as rapidly as they came from the pans.
“Oh, this has been a wonderful picnic!” Nancy declared as she finished her third sandwich. “Ned, I have never tasted better meat.”
“I was right about the storm at any rate,” he returned, once more studying the inky sky above the electric lights which had been turned on. “That rain isn’t going to pass over.”
“Oughtn’t we to be starting home?” suggested Bess nervously. “I don’t like to break up the party, but it may be hard to drive in a heavy rain.”
The others agreed that it would be wise to bring the picnic to a speedy end. Hampers were loaded into the cars and the grounds were cleaned of papers and refuse.
“We’ve waited just a few minutes too long,” Ned declared, dousing water on the fire. “The storm is going to beat us home.”
A few of the cars began to pull away from the park. Nancy and Bess were still gathering up stray papers when a strong breath of wind rustled the tree leaves overhead.
“It’s coming!” cried Bess, starting to run for the car.
Even as she spoke, a flash of lightning severed the clouds. Instantly the park illuminating system went out of order.
“Nancy!” shouted Ned in alarm, for in the darkness he could not see her.
“Hurry!” screamed Bess. “Don’t bother about the rest of those papers.”
“Coming,” called Nancy, but her voice was drowned by a loud roar of thunder.
At the same instant the ground for many yards about was brilliantly lighted. Close to the shelter house not far from where Nancy had been standing, a great tree shivered and splintered from a mighty impact.
“Wow! That was close!” cried Ned. “A bolt of lightning must have struck it!”
“Nancy! Nancy! Are you all right?” shouted Bess.
There was no answering call even when the others joined in the cry. In horror the young people leaped toward the spot where the girl last had been seen.