Chapter 16 The Quest of the Missing Map by Carolyn Keene
Stopped by an Elephant
Nancy scarcely knew where to begin the search for the model of the Warwick. For half an hour she and Mrs. Chatham studied the record book, listing the names of various purchasers of the miniature boats.
“Was Captain Tomlin’s vessel very well known?” Nancy asked thoughtfully.
“No,” the widow replied. “It was a small ship and rather old.”
“Then a model of it would not be so likely to command a high price. I’m tempted to start my investigation with the purchasers who bought the least expensive ones.”
“That seems wise to me, Nancy. It would take weeks to question everyone on our list.”
Consulting the ledger, they noted that a man named J. K. Clover had paid the lowest sum. His address was given as Hope, a small city nearly eighty miles away.
“I wonder if I can reach Mr. Clover by telephone,” Nancy remarked.
To her disappointment the name was not listed in any directory. Mrs. Chatham suggested rather sympathetically that it would be easier to start the search in River Heights.
“Easier perhaps,” Nancy admitted, “but I want to carry my plan through. I think I’ll drive to Hope and try to find Mr. Clover. I’ll ask Bess and George to go with me.”
Informed of the proposed trip, the chums were eager to accompany Nancy. They packed a picnic lunch and were waiting when Nancy drove to the Marvin home.
“Just a minute!” Bess called from the front porch. “I have to turn off the lawn sprinkler for Mother.”
As she started around the house a police puppy trailed after her, padding through a muddy flower bed.
“Good-bye, Rudy,” Bess said, turning off the hose. “Be a good doggie while I’m gone.”
The little animal responded with a friendly bark. Raising up on his hind legs, he pawed the girl affectionately.
“Oh, see what you’ve done!” Bess cried in dismay. “You’ve muddied my white dress!”
While Nancy and George waited impatiently in the car she went into the house to change. That was not to be the only delay, however.
“Sorry to keep you waiting so long,” she apologized as she returned. “I guess we’re ready to start at last.”
Nancy shifted gears, but before she could pull away from the curb, Mrs. Marvin called to her, saying she was wanted on the telephone.
The message was from Hannah Gruen. She reported that Mrs. Chatham wished Nancy to meet her at the police station immediately.
“Did she say why she wanted me?” the girl asked in perplexity.
“She mentioned something about a messenger boy being captured.”
“Oh, that’s splendid news!” Nancy exclaimed.
Upon arriving at police headquarters a few minutes later she learned that the young man who had been caught was booked under the name of Tim Dapp. Mrs. Chatham already had made a positive identification of him as the person who had received the thousand dollars from her.
“We didn’t find any money on his person,” an officer told Nancy. “Even so, there’s not much question about his guilt. He acted as the go-between for higher-ups.”
“Has he had anything to say?”
“So far we haven’t been able to get much out of him. He won’t tell what became of the money or who hired him.”
Nancy was permitted to see young Dapp in his cell, but the sullen youth refused to answer any of her questions.
“I don’t know,” was his response to everything she asked. “I won’t talk without a lawyer.”
In the end the girl decided that for the present it was futile to try to get any information from the prisoner. Having lost an hour’s time already she decided to start for Hope without further delay. As she left the car, a few drops of rain splashed on the sidewalk.
“See that!” Bess cried, gazing up at the black clouds. “It’s going to rain.”
“It is raining, you mean,” corrected George as the drops came down faster and faster. “Who minds a little moisture?” she laughed gaily. “Full steam ahead!”
For an hour it rained steadily and they dared not travel fast over the slippery road.
“I propose we eat,” said Nancy, pulling over to the side of the road. “Maybe by that time the storm will have let up.”
Her hope was realized as they went on later, but unfortunately the weather did not clear. Instead, it grew more and more misty as they proceeded.
“This is positively dangerous,” said Bess fearfully as they rounded a corner. “I hope—Oh!” she screamed.
Nancy jammed on the brakes just in time. Directly ahead there loomed a huge gray mass which completely blocked the narrow road.
“It’s—it’s an elephant!” cried George. “Of all things!”
“Why, it really is an elephant!” Nancy gasped as the huge animal lumbered toward them. “He must have escaped from a circus.”
“Bess, jump out and chase him off the road,” George said mischievously.
“You think this is funny, but I don’t!” Bess chided her cousin. “He may decide to upset the car!”
Nancy tooted the auto horn several times, but to no avail. The elephant remained squarely in the middle of the road, swinging his trunk in what Bess called a menacing way.
“Elephants like peanuts,” suggested George. “Throw him one of those left-over peanut butter sandwiches.”
“Don’t bring out the food, whatever you do,” Bess cautioned nervously. “It might attract him. Oh, dear, I wish we never had started on this trip. Everything has gone wrong and now this!”
“I’m not afraid of an elephant,” Nancy declared, starting to open the car door. “I’ll get out and try to coax him away.”
“Don’t you dare!” Bess cried, pulling her chum back. “Why, elephants kill folks sometimes and this one looks wild to me!”
Nancy did not insist upon testing her courage, for just then a man in a blue uniform, obviously a circus employee, ambled down the road.
“Oh, here’s my elephant,” he said with grim humor. “Old Tom has a bad habit of pulling up his stake and walking off whenever he’s around here,” the trainer explained. “Our traveling show is camped over in the woods there.”
“Why did you say ‘when he’s around here’?” asked Nancy, interested.
“Well, Miss,” replied the old circus man, “you know an elephant never forgets. When this one was bein’ brought to this country—he was only a baby, mind you—one of the sailors hurt him. Later, when we had a show up in these parts, if this fellow don’t turn up. I’m telling you Tom here nearly killed him.”
“Oh!” cried Bess, eyeing the great gray mass askance.
“Tom wouldn’t hurt a soul—except his old enemy,” said the elephant’s keeper. “But if he ever catches up with this Spike Doty, I’d hate to figure what would happen.”
“Did you say Spike Doty!” asked Nancy, astounded. “Is he around here?”
It was the circus man’s turn to look surprised, so the girl explained that the police were looking for a Spike Doty, but she did not tell why.
“I don’t know whether he’s around this territory or not,” replied the keeper. “But old Tom seems to think he might be,” the man grinned.
He struck the beast sharply on the trunk and the elephant lumbered off.
“That was a strange story,” said Nancy as the girls got on their way again. “Do you suppose it could be the same Spike Doty?”
“It’s an unusual name,” replied George.
The mist finally was blown away and when the girls reached Hope the sun was shining brightly. Without difficulty they located the address they sought. To their delight they saw a ship model in the front window.
“This is the place!” Nancy declared triumphantly. “Oh, I hope that little boat is the Warwick!”
In response to her knock, a bent old man with scanty white hair came to the door.
“How do you do?” said Nancy, bowing. “May I ask if you are Mr. Clover?”
Unknown to her, this person was very deaf, but he guessed what she had said.
“I am Mr. Clover,” he answered. “What is it you want? Speak up!”
“Did you at one time buy a ship model from a Mrs. Chatham?” she asked eagerly.
“A little shirt?” the old man demanded. “Did I buy a little shirt? Of all the stupid questions!”
“No, you misunderstood me, Mr. Clover. I asked if you bought a little ship—a model.”
“Bother?” the old man muttered, shaking his head. “I can’t seem to understand what you mean. I’m a bit hard of hearing, you know.”
“The Warwick!” Nancy fairly shouted. “Did you buy the Warwick?”
“War bickering,” the old fellow puzzled. “Yes, there’s plenty of it these days. What the world’s a-coming to I don’t know.”
Nearly at her wits’ end, Nancy pointed to the little ship in the front window.
“The Warwick!” she repeated again. “Did you buy it from Mrs. Chatham?”
“Oh, you mean that little ship!” Light broke over Mr. Clover’s face. “Why didn’t you say so at first? A right pretty thing, ain’t she?”
“Is it named the Warwick?” Nancy shouted in his ear.
“Come in, come in,” the old man invited. “I’ll show it to you.”
Breathing sighs of relief, the girls entered the cottage. It was none too clean, being cluttered with books, papers and furniture, but the girls had eyes only for the miniature boat. Walking to the front window, Nancy lifted it from the table. On its base was a small brass plate which bore the name Storm King.
“Oh, it isn’t the one we’re searching for,” she murmured in disappointment. “But I’ll look it over.”
As she examined it, seeking a hidden compartment, Bess asked the old man if she might have a drink of water.
“Sure thing,” he said agreeably. “I’ll get you one fresh from the well.”
As soon as he had gone, Bess and George crossed the room to Nancy’s side.
“Isn’t it the Warwick?” the latter asked, peering at the ship.
“I’m afraid not,” Nancy answered gloomily. “This model is called the Storm King.”
She offered the vessel to her chums. As George took it from her there was a flash of metal in the sunlight.
“Wait, let me have it again!” Nancy exclaimed.
Her voice was excited, for she had observed something which gave her new hope.