Chapter 14 The Quest of the Missing Map by Carolyn Keene
Clue to a Treasure
“This must be it!” Nancy said with control, picking the thin envelope from the box. “I do hope our long search is at an end.”
Neither she nor Mrs. Chatham wished to examine the contents of the envelope in the presence of government or bank officials, but the men opened it without ceremony. They merely glanced at the sheet inside, put it back, and went on to the next pile of papers. There was nothing to do but wait until a listing had been made of the box’s contents. It disclosed that they were free from tax. At length Nancy and the widow were left alone.
“Thank goodness!” murmured Mrs. Chatham in relief. “Now we can look in that envelope. Surely it must contain half the treasure map.”
With trembling fingers she took out the contents. There was only a double sheet of paper which obviously was not a map.
“It’s a letter,” the woman said, unable to hide her disappointment.
“Perhaps it tells what became of the missing section of the map,” Nancy declared hopefully. “Is it signed by Captain Tomlin?”
“Yes, this is his handwriting.”
Her voice vibrant with emotion, Mrs. Chatham read the entire note aloud. In it her former husband revealed details of his early life never before disclosed to her. They offered sufficient facts to make it certain that he and Tomlin Smith were twin brothers.
“So that part of the mystery is solved!” said Nancy. “I can report that much of my assignment accomplished. Only Ellen’s father will be sorry never to see his relative again.”
The letter concerned itself mainly with the treasure originally secreted by Captain Tomlin’s seafaring grandfather.
“Listen to this!” Mrs. Chatham exclaimed as she came to a particularly significant paragraph.
“ ‘All these years I have kept the torn section of a treasure map given me by my father. Fearing theft I made a copy of it. Only a month ago this very copy was stolen from my cabin, unquestionably by a member of my crew.’ ”
“When was the letter dated?” Nancy asked as the widow paused to catch her breath.
“Only a week before my husband’s death. He continues:
“ ‘I have taken the original copy from my cabin and hidden it on the Warwick. It is my firm belief that this map, if combined with the section possessed by my missing twin brother, will lead to the discovery of my grandfather’s great treasure.’ ”
“Those statements don’t go together!” Nancy exclaimed. “Particularly the one about the Warwick. I thought that was the name of the vessel your husband sailed.”
“You’re right, Nancy, it was.”
“Then how could he remove the parchment map from his own ship and still hide it there? It doesn’t make sense!”
“Perhaps he meant he hid it somewhere in another part of the vessel—away from his cabin,” Mrs. Chatham ventured.
“That doesn’t seem likely,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “No, I am sure Captain Tomlin never would risk having the map found by members of his crew. Especially after the copy had been stolen.”
“Then what could he have meant?”
“I don’t know,” Nancy admitted. “It strikes me that your husband deliberately tried to make the statement mysterious. Apparently he thought you would understand where the map was hidden.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea!”
Nancy was silent for several moments as she re-read the letter. Then suddenly her face brightened.
“I think I have it!” she exclaimed. “Captain Tomlin owned the ship models you have at the studio at Rocky Edge, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He had many of them built to his special order.”
“And they were sent to you from his ship after his death?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, among the collection was there a replica of the Warwick?”
“Oh, dear, I can’t remember,” Mrs. Chatham said regretfully. “There were so many of the little boats. I sold a few of them.”
“Then you may have lost the map forever,” Nancy declared in consternation.
“I don’t understand.”
“It is my theory that your husband hid his half of the map in a model of his sailing vessel, the Warwick. Perhaps there is a secret compartment in it, like the one in the tiny desk Mr. Holgate has. Doesn’t that seem reasonable?”
“Oh, it does!” the widow cried. “And to think I may have disposed of it unwittingly!”
“Let’s hope the boat is still among the collection.”
“We’ll take the first plane home,” Mrs. Chatham decided instantly. “Oh, dear, I’ll have no peace of mind if I’ve sold that little ship.”
Bidding farewell to the Holgates, Nancy and Mrs. Chatham soon were en route to River Heights. Aided by a strong tail wind, their plane arrived ahead of schedule. Although the widow had telegraphed that she was coming, her chauffeur was not at the airport.
“Evidently he didn’t expect our plane to get here so soon,” Mrs. Chatham declared, gazing about the parking space. “We’ll not wait for him.”
Hailing a taxi, they drove without delay to Rocky Edge. As the cab rolled through the open gate Nancy observed that no guards were on duty.
“You hired some special detectives to watch your place, didn’t you?” she inquired. “I don’t see any about.”
“They aren’t detectives,” the woman replied. “My gardener knew two strong men who were out of work, so we gave them the job. I’m sure they’re around somewhere.”
But Mrs. Chatham was wrong, and she found a sad state of affairs at her home.
Trixie was missing!
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” exclaimed the child’s mother, wringing her hands. “I knew I never should have gone to New York!”
The only servant who seemed to be upset over the matter was the chauffeur. At once Nancy inquired of him when Ellen Smith and Hannah Gruen had left.
“They both went away right after lunch,” he replied. “The young lady had a singing lesson, she said. Your housekeeper couldn’t stand it here. The cook and the waitress resented her comin’ so sudden and wouldn’t give her anything to eat! But I’m glad she was here, for Miss Trixie was fine with her and Miss Smith.”
“Where are the guards?” the Drew girl inquired.
“Oh, they got better jobs, so they left,” the chauffeur replied.
“How long has Trixie been missing?” Nancy next asked the man.
“An hour or two.”
At this moment Mrs. Chatham came up, sobbing. “Have you searched everywhere, Thomas?” she asked. As he nodded, she added, “O-ver the edge of the cliff and—and down by the river?”
“Yes, Madam, everywhere.”
The widow acted relieved at this statement. “Then Trixie has run away, the little scamp!” she laughed through her tears.
“Mrs. Chatham, I don’t wish to alarm you,” said Nancy, “but I am afraid this may be serious. Before we left for New York, Trixie promised me she never would run away again.”
“Surely you don’t think Trixie has been kidnaped?” the widow gasped.
“I’m afraid something of the sort has happened.”
“Then we must call the police at once! I’ll do it now!”
Mrs. Chatham started toward the house, Nancy following her. As they entered the hall both noticed a sheet of paper lying near the telephone.
“What is this?” the woman asked, picking it up.
At a glance she saw that it was a ransom note. In a bold scrawl had been written the alarming message:
“If you want to see your kid again have a thousand dollars waiting when our messenger arrives. Do not notify the police or you will be sorry.”
“Oh, Nancy, Trixie has been kidnaped!” groaned Mrs. Chatham.
For a moment Nancy thought the woman was going to faint, but with an effort the child’s mother steadied herself and sat down.
“Oh, Nancy, what shall I do? I never should have trusted my child to the care of servants.”
“If I were you I never would consider paying the money, Mrs. Chatham.”
“Trixie may be harmed if I refuse.”
“I think you need not worry about that—at least not yet,” Nancy said, studying the ransom note again. “The kidnaping could be an inside affair.”
“I don’t agree with you,” Mrs. Chatham returned with conviction. “While my servants may be careless they are all dependable.”
Nancy tactfully made no reply, but actually she held a poor opinion of the widow’s ability to select employees.
“I think I should call the police,” Mrs. Chatham resumed nervously. “What do you advise?”
“Please wait until we’ve had an opportunity to search the grounds thoroughly.”
“Surely you don’t believe Trixie will be found? Why, this note indicates she has been kidnaped! You said so yourself——”
“I have an idea,” Nancy said slowly. “It may amount to nothing but it won’t take long to find out. Please wait here until I return.”
Without explaining what she had in mind, the girl hurried from the house, walking rapidly to the Ship Cottage. She did not blame Mrs. Chatham for being puzzled by her action. She had acted upon a sudden “hunch,” a feeling that Trixie was being held a prisoner somewhere on the estate. What better place could a kidnaper choose than the little cottage with its secret rooms, sliding panels and trap doors? Furthermore, should his plans go wrong, he would not be caught with the child on his hands.
Cautiously Nancy opened the door of the music studio and peered inside. The room was vacant, but on a chair lay Trixie’s straw hat. She thought too that she heard a slight sound from behind the wall.
“I’ll look there, anyway,” she decided courageously, moving to the secret panel.
Nancy groped for the peg which opened it. As the panel slid back slowly she was almost certain she heard a movement in the dark storeroom.
“Trix—” she started to call.
At the same moment a hard object struck Nancy and she knew no more.