The Clue of the Broken Locket (6 page)

Nancy picked up the two records and compared them. Although at first glance they looked exactly the same, she noticed that the label on hers was paler than the other.

“These records have the same serial number,” said Nancy, “but it’s just possible the one I bought last night is a pirated recording.”

“You mean,” said Bess, her eyes opening wide in astonishment, “that someone is forging Niko’s records and selling them?”

“It’s possible,” Nancy answered. “I think we should ask Eddie where he bought this supply of records. Also, I think you, Cecily, should telephone Niko’s record company and tell them.”

Nancy said she had still another suggestion. “Let’s drive on to the county seat at Ridgeton. One of us can go to the courthouse and trace the ownership of Pudding Stone Lodge as far back as possible.”

The other girls were ready, so as soon as Nancy showered and dressed for town, they set off. As they were driving past Henry Winch’s dock, they saw the stocky man coming out of the rear of his store with a suitcase and an armful of clothes.

“He’s leaving!” George exclaimed.

Nancy stopped and asked him if this were true and he said Yes, indeed—he was not going to stay in that haunted spot another night. She urged him not to be hasty, saying she was sure the girls would get to the bottom of the launch mystery soon.

“I sure wish you could,” he answered. “I tell you it would save this lake as a summer resort.”

Nancy smiled. “After all, Mr. Winch,” she said, “no harm has come to you. Why not wait a few days? We’re not far away if you need help.”

“Well, I’ll think about it,” he said. “Maybe I won’t go right now.”

“I’d like to rent a canoe from you,” Nancy went on. “I may want to inspect that phantom ship at close range.”

A wild look came into Mr. Winch’s eyes. “Don’t, Miss Drew! It ain’t safe! I’ll leave a canoe at your cottage, but you’d better think twice, young lady, before you go up in that foggy area.”

“All right, I will,” Nancy promised.

When they reached the main road, Nancy stopped the car. “The county seat is to our left, and Misty Lake to our right. Why don’t we go to Ridgeton first and see about an ironmonger, then stop at Eddie’s on the way back?”

This was agreed upon and Nancy turned left. As they rode along, she told about the flashing light from the bull’s-eye window of Pudding Stone Lodge. George said, “I believe it was just the sunlight glinting on the glass.”

Cecily and Bess were inclined to think there was more to it, but could offer no explanation which Nancy had not already thought of.

When they reached the county courthouse, George offered to do the research work and try to find the identity of the original owner of Pudding Stone Lodge.

“Good,” said Nancy. “Bess and I will inquire about an ironmonger while Cecily phones the record company.”

The girls separated. Nancy made several inquiries and learned that a Mr. Finnerin was the present owner of an ironmongering establishment which had been in town for over a hundred years. The business was housed in a small building on a very narrow cobblestone street.

Mr. Finnerin said that unfortunately his old ledger had been destroyed by fire and he personally had no knowledge of the sale of any iron bird to Pudding Stone Lodge.

“But why don’t you look around at some samples of our old-time work?” he suggested. “Maybe it will help you.”

The company had set aside one room of old and new products. The antique birds included cranes for the garden, and owls and eagles for roof cornices and door knockers.

“This is probably the type of thing we should look for,” Bess whispered to Nancy, and her friend nodded.

The girls thanked Mr. Finnerin and walked back to a tearoom where the four girls had arranged to meet for luncheon. After they gave their orders, each told what she had found out. Cecily had still been unable to reach either Niko or the Waynes. She had had a talk with an official of the record company, however, and he had asked that someone bring the two records to their office in Baltimore.

“They’re very much interested in your theory of piracy, Nancy,” she said. “I think you should be the one to go.”

“I’d be glad to. But let’s decide tomorrow.”

George said she had learned that the original owner of Pudding Stone Lodge was André Delaroy and it had been built in 1825. His two sons were Simon and William. She smiled at Cecily. “It sure looks as if Pudding Stone Lodge was really your ancestor’s home.”

Cecily was greatly excited, and listened intently as George went on, “The property was inherited by Simon Delaroy’s only child, Ann. She married a Wayne.”

“Oh, George, that’s wonderful!” Cecily said, her eyes dancing. “We
are
looking in the right place for the iron bird! Just think! The old family treasure must be buried some place at the lodge. As soon as we finish eating, let’s go back and make plans.”

“But first we must stop at Eddie’s Soda Shop,” Nancy reminded her, “and find out the name of the jobber who supplied him with Niko’s records.”

When they reached the shop, Nancy suggested that they purchase some candy and nuts so that Eddie would not be suspicious. As he was filling the order, she asked casually, “By the way, Eddie, who supplies you with records?”

The soda-shop owner grinned. “I suppose you mean Niko’s hit. I can get all you want. They come from a local jobber. His name is Neal Raskin.”

“I don’t need any more right now, but when I go home—” Nancy left the sentence unfinished. Quickly she consulted a telephone directory and found that Raskin’s office was located near town, on the highway.

As the girls walked toward the car, Nancy said, “Cecily, why don’t we drop you and George at Neal Raskin’s office while Bess and I search again for the iron bird?”

“You’ll come back to pick us up?”

“Yes.”

Cecily said she was torn between two desires—to hunt for the bird and to help Niko. She finally agreed to go with George and find out more about the record.

Nancy and Bess drove off. “We’ll leave the car at the cottage,” said Nancy.

When they reached it, the girls were surprised to see a note tacked to the door. It said:

“OUR search is over!” said Bess. “Now we won’t have to hunt for the iron bird after all.”

Nancy frowned. “I don’t trust Karl Driscoll. It would be dreadful if he has already opened the bird and found directions to the fortune! He may try to claim it.”

“Cecily would be crushed,” Bess commented.

The girls hurried outside. Nancy now noticed that the canoe had been delivered. Thinking she had better put the paddles in the cottage, she went down to the lake front. Tied to the paddles was a key and a note requesting that the canoe be returned to Winch’s boathouse when the girls were finished with it. The key was to be left with Mrs. Hosking.

Nancy felt that the message also meant Henry Winch had decided to go away. “If I can only solve this mystery,” she thought, “I’m sure he’ll come back.”

She put the paddles in the cottage and with Bess started off for Pudding Stone Lodge. They were met at the door by Karl Driscoll and his wife, who smiled upon being introduced to the girls. Both seemed very pleasant and told Nancy they had conducted a search and found an iron bird in a cellar storage room.

“This may be the one your friend is looking for,” said Mr. Driscoll. “If so, you’re welcome to take it. Follow me.”

He led the way to the kitchen and opened a door to a darkened flight of steps leading below.

“There’s no electricity down there, so take this flashlight with you. Walk straight ahead and you’ll come to the storage room.”

For an instant Nancy hesitated. Was this some kind of trick? She still did not like Karl Driscoll, despite his apparent friendliness. She wondered again about the strange humming noise which seemed to have come from the house. Then Nancy told herself, “Oh, I guess it will be all right.” She took the light, and Bess followed her down the steep steps. A musty, moldering odor reached them.

“I wouldn’t want to stay down here long,” Bess remarked. “It’s positively spooky.”

They walked straight ahead and soon came to a room with a sagging open door. One side was lined with shelves, the other full of hooks. On one of these hung a wall plaque of an iron bird. Nancy beamed the flashlight closely on it.

“Is this the one?” Bess asked.

“I doubt it—this doesn’t strike me as very old,” Nancy replied. “In fact, it looks like the one we saw last night in the window of the gift shop.”

Nancy stood lost in thought. The suspicion crossed her mind that the Driscolls might have “planted” this bird, hoping to fool the girls so that they would take it away, and not come back to the lodge. Nancy played her light over the storage room. At the far end stood a large old-fashioned walnut chest of drawers. Above it she could just make out the outline of another door. Nancy wondered if this were a closed-off exit to the grounds.

“Let’s go!” Bess urged. “This place gives me the creeps.”

At the top of the cellar stairway, Mrs. Driscoll stood waiting for them. When Nancy said the iron bird was definitely not the right one, the woman looked disappointed.

“I’m so sorry. We hoped we had helped you in your search.”

“Would you mind if we look other places in the house?” Nancy asked her.

“Why—uh—no,” Mrs. Driscoll answered.

Nancy said she would like to go out on the roof. “It is just possible I may find some evidence that an iron bird was once used as a cornice,” she explained. Mrs. Driscoll agreed, though a bit reluctantly.

Bess spoke up. “How about my looking around the outside of the house at the door knockers and so forth? Then I’ll walk back to the cottage and start supper.”

“All right, but if I get too interested in my search, you’d better drive to town and pick up George and Cecily.”

Bess nodded and went out the front door, as Mrs. Driscoll led Nancy up the stairs. They walked a short distance down a hallway past several rooms with closed doors until they reached one which the woman opened. It revealed the attic stairs.

At that moment Nancy heard children’s voices. They were coming from one of the bedrooms.

“Your children?” she asked Mrs. Driscoll with a smile.

“Yes.” An instant later the door burst open and identical twins—a boy and a girl about three years old—rushed out. Both were crying.

“Uncle Vince is mean!” the little girl sobbed.

“Yes, he is!” the little boy echoed. “We don’t want to play with him!”

Mrs. Driscoll was annoyed. She grabbed the children and shoved them back into the room.

“Don’t you dare leave here again!” she said angrily.

Taking the key from the inside of the door, she slammed it shut and locked it from the outside, pocketing the key. At once the children began to cry and scream loudly while kicking and banging on the door.

Nancy was appalled at such treatment and barely refrained from protesting. She wondered about the strange girl in the woods. Was she the Driscolls’ nursemaid and where was she?

Mrs. Driscoll marched back along the hall to the attic stairway and told Nancy to go up. As she herself followed, Mrs. Driscoll explained that as a sideline the brothers had an acrobatic act. Vince was trying to teach the twins to perform and made them practice their stunts over and over again.

“You know how children are,” Mrs. Driscoll said. “They’d rather just play.”

Nancy made no comment. She felt that three years of age was pretty young for children to be handled in such a manner.

In the attic Nancy looked around for the bull’s-eye window but did not see it. There were two regular-shaped windows, both of them too high up to reach. They cast a dim light around the place, which was filled with an assortment of old trunks and boxes.

Turning, Nancy noticed a closed door, which evidently opened into a third-floor bedroom. That must be where the bull’s-eye window was! She asked Mrs. Driscoll about this.

“Oh, you noticed that from the outside?” the woman queried. “Yes, that’s where the circular window is. The room is locked. The owner keeps some things stored in there, I guess.”

She showed Nancy a small door which opened onto a flat section of the roof with a low railing.

“I think what you have in mind, Miss Drew, is dangerous. But if you insist upon looking around, you can do so from here. As you can see, part of the roof is flat, but part is pretty steep. I warn you to watch your footing!”

Nancy promised she would do so and stepped outside. Mrs. Driscoll said she would go down stairs now and attend to the children.

From where she stood Nancy could see the entire lake and all the cottages which faced it. She saw Bess just entering the front door of the cottage.

“I guess she didn’t find anything,” thought Nancy.

She looked over as much of the roof as she could see, but there was nothing resembling an iron bird. Spotting a ladder against the chimney, toward the front of the house, Nancy climbed over the railing and carefully made her way down the sloping roof to the ladder. Quickly she climbed it, and holding onto the chimney for support, was able to view the entire layout of the roof. There was not a sign of a decorative bird in any section.

Nancy thought, “Maybe the bird isn’t a fixed ornament, and Simon Delaroy hid it on the property.” A worrisome thought struck her. What if someone had already located it?

Nancy climbed down the ladder, and made her way back to the attic door. To her amazement, it would not open.

“Oh, dear!” Nancy murmured. “I hope it’s not one of those self-locking doors!”

She tugged and pushed, but the door would not budge. Had it locked automatically—or had the door been bolted from the inside by one of the Driscolls? And if so, what was the reason? The only explanation she could think of was that these mysterious people wanted to keep her out of the house until they had accomplished something about which they did not want her to know.