Chapter 13 The Mystery of the Brass Bound Trunk by Carolyn Keene
Nestrelda’s Rebellion
Until the vessel had passed the Statue of Liberty, the three girls remained on deck. After the sky-line of New York had faded into the horizon, they busied themselves making arrangements for deck chairs and a table in the dining salon.
As the girls wandered about, they met Senora Zola and a group of students from Laurel Hall. Nancy noticed that the headmistress appeared to be worried.
“I seem to be in a predicament,” the woman confessed to Nancy’s question. “Mrs. Joslin has caused me considerable trouble. After having insisted that you girls withdraw from the tour, she changed her mind at the very last minute and decided that Nestrelda should not go.”
“It must be annoying,” said Nancy, not disclosing that the information was known to her.
“The worst of it is, Nestrelda ran away and hid when her mother told her to leave the boat,” the senora went on in her delightful rich voice with the attractive accent. “Mrs. Joslin expects me to find the girl and send her back with the pilot when he leaves the vessel.”
“That is unreasonable of her.”
“I’ve looked everywhere, Nancy, and I can’t find her.” She laughed ruefully. “Now, if I had your famous detective ability——”
“If I see Nestrelda I’ll tell her you are searching for her,” the girl said quickly.
She divined that the headmistress was on the verge of requesting her to look for Nestrelda. Nancy did not relish such an assignment, for her sympathies were entirely with the girl. In any event, she did not wish to be of assistance to Mrs. Joslin who had abused her so shamefully.
“Thank you, Nancy,” Senora Zola said gratefully. “I am going down to the cabins now to see if Nestrelda has returned to her room.”
Separating from Bess and George, who wished to unpack their clothing, Nancy walked again around the deck. She paused to watch two sailors with a trunk. They set it down on deck, then started away.
Wondering if it might belong to Nestrelda, Nancy went closer to inspect it. She stared in astonishment as she saw that it bore her own initials, N. D., and was trimmed in brass.
“There’s something wrong about this!” the girl told herself.
Calling to the two seamen, she asked them why the trunk had been brought up on deck.
“It’s to be put off when the pilot leaves the ship, Miss,” she was told. “The girl who owns it changed her mind about making the trip.”
“But I am the owner,” protested Nancy with some heat. “I haven’t changed my mind, and I certainly don’t wish to see my luggage sent ashore.”
“Must be a mistake, then,” conceded the sailor. “We may have lifted the wrong trunk.”
“Whatever you do, don’t put it ashore,” Nancy said. “Please take it down to my cabin.”
She gave the men the number and they promised to see that the order was carried out. Taking no chances, Nancy kept her eye upon the trunk until she saw it put into her sleeping quarters.
As she continued to wander about the boat, the girl kept watching for Nestrelda but did not see her. Neither could Senora Zola nor the officers to whom the headmistress appealed, find any trace of her. It came time for the pilot to leave the vessel and still the girl had not been located.
“What shall I do?” the woman from Laurel Hall asked Nancy. “The pilot refuses to wait longer. I can’t even locate Nestrelda’s trunk.”
“She may have left the boat without being seen.”
“Do you think so?” the headmistress asked hopefully.
Nancy did not really believe her own words so she answered truthfully:
“Nestrelda may be hiding aboard, but it seems to me you’ve done your duty. After all, since Mrs. Joslin changed her mind at the last minute, she is the one who is responsible.”
“Yes, you are right, Nancy. I’ve done all I can.”
After the pilot boat had motored away from the Patrician without its truant passenger, Senora Zola went to her cabin. Nancy, deciding to find out what had become of her pet cat, inquired the way to the place where the animals were kept. As she started down the companionway she came face to face with Henry Washburn.
“Hello, there,” he said gaily, tipping his cap. “You haven’t seen Doris, have you?”
“No, not since I came aboard. Are you sure she is on the boat?”
A look of consternation crossed the young man’s face.
“She must be here! Her father assured me she would sail. I planned to surprise her.”
“Well, I trust you’re not the one to receive the surprise,” Nancy laughed, and went on down the stairs.
She located the room where her pet was kept, and was glad to see such a well-ventilated place with an attendant in charge. She released Snowball from her confining cage.
“Hello, Puss,” she said, allowing the fluffy animal to scamper across the floor.
Satisfied that Snowball would receive good treatment, Nancy left after a few minutes and decided to look around the third class section before returning to her own quarters. She had no thought of seeing anyone she knew in this section of the vessel, so was startled when she noticed a young man walking down the corridor ahead of her. His hair was light red in color and he moved with a familiar stride.
Instantly convinced that he was the person who had eluded her in the New York hotel, she quickened her pace. Hearing footsteps behind him, the man turned his head. Nancy caught only a fleeting glimpse of his face but she was sure of her identification. As if fearing detection, he pulled his hat low and moved swiftly down a bisecting hallway. When the girl reached the corridor no one was in sight.
“Now where did he go?” she asked herself irritably. “I believe he deliberately tried to avoid me again.”
A stewardess came down the passage bearing a tray of food. Nancy Drew stopped her to ask if she had observed the red-haired traveler.
“Do you mean Mr. Smith?” questioned the woman. “He has red hair.”
“And a moustache?”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“Has Mr. Smith a room in this part of the boat?”
“Yes, the number is 572. Just around the next corner.”
Nancy thanked the stewardess for the information. She waited until the young woman had gone on, then followed the passageway until she came to the designated room. The door of Number 572 was closed.
Nancy knocked loudly. Receiving no response, she tried again. At last she was satisfied that the occupant was not within at the moment.
“Oh, dear,” she told herself. “I’m afraid he’ll always try to avoid me. He probably thinks I mean to make trouble for him. Doris Trenton is back of this, I’m sure. I wish I could find out her reason for it. And I will, too!”
Nancy thought for a moment, then went down the hall to a writing desk which stood by the stairway. Taking pen and paper she carefully composed a note. It read:
“To the occupant of Room 572: If you have red hair, a moustache, and are the man whose car struck mine in River Heights, please communicate with me and receive fifty dollars due you.”
She signed her name and room number and sealed the message into an envelope. Taking it down the hallway she waited until no one was within sight, then slipped it under the crack of the door.
“There, Mr. Smith,” she remarked as she finished, “I think that bait should snare you if anything will.”
Suddenly, as she straightened up, all the lights in the corridor went out.
“I wonder what has happened,” Nancy thought, as she tried to grope her way in the overwhelming darkness.
Then, without warning, a strange cold hand grasped hers.