Mystery of the Tolling Bell

by Carolyn Keene

  “There’s only one thing to do,” Nancy said. “I’ll go for help.”

  “Where?”

  “If necessary, to that house where I stopped the other day. Perhaps there’s a cottage closer.”

  “Maybe I could walk.” George gazed dubiously at her ankle, which had become badly swollen.

  “You’d never make it, George. We’d better get you down to Bess. You can wait with her.”

  Nancy supported her friend as they made their way down the rocky hillside.

  Bess was shocked by George’s accident and as puzzled as the others by the sudden departure of A. H. She told Nancy and George that she had decided to take a walk along the shore to stretch, after being in the boat so long. Suddenly, to her horror, the elderly man sped off.

  After telling Bess ot the plan to go for help, Nancy overruled her offer to go along. “No, you stay with George,” she urged.

  The sun was still high overhead and beat down upon the rocks. As Nancy set off to bring help to her friends, she could not stifle a feeling of resentment toward Amos Hendrick. What had possessed the man to leave them stranded?

  “He must have had some reason,” she thought “I don’t believe he would abandon us on purpose.”

  Nancy stopped short. She was facing the front of the deserted cottage. The door was flapping in the wind.

  “That’s funny!” she thought. “I know I latched that door.”

  A dark shadow flitted around the side of the cottage. Had someone left the house, or was the figure that of an animal?

  “It must have been my imagination,” Nancy decided. “But just to make certain, I’ll walk over there and find out.”

  The weather-stained cottage was as abandoned looking as when she had seen it before. Again she knocked. Again no one appeared. Once more she pulled the door shut and tested the latch to be sure it would not open again.

  Before leaving, Nancy hurriedly circled the house, but saw no one. Yet she was uneasy.

  “The wind couldn’t have opened the door,” she reflected. “And that shadow—”

  In a hurry to reach Candleton, Nancy did not want to waste time. Striking out in what she judged to be the right direction, she was relieved to come upon a path which led out to a dirt road. Quarter of a mile farther on Nancy reached the spot where she had awakened the other day.

  “How in the world could I have wandered such a distance in my sleep?” she asked herself.

  Before long, Nancy came to the same farmhouse she had stopped at before. This time a car stood outside, its engine running. A man, evidently the owner of the place, started off.

  “Wait!” Nancy hailed him. He pulled up at the gate.

  “Are you going to Candleton?” the young detective asked breathlessly.

  “That’s right.”

  “May I ride with you?”

  “Sure. Hop in.” The farmer dusted off the seat, then swung open the door.

  As the car jounced over the rough road, Nancy told the driver what had happened, explaining that she meant to hire another boat and return to the cliff for her stranded companions.

  “By the way, who lives in the cottage on the cliff?” she inquired, hoping to pick up some useful information.

  “Why, nobody.”

  “I mean, who were the occupants before the cottage was abandoned?”

  “Sorry, but I don’t know. My wife and I came here only a few months ago. We don’t get around much or see any of our neighbors. Too busy trying to make a living from our farm.”

  He soon reached Candleton, and at Nancy’s request the farmer obligingly dropped her off at the waterfront. He would accept no payment for the ride, insisting that it had not inconvenienced him, and he had enjoyed talking with her.

  Nancy hastened to the wharf where she had rented the motorboat. She saw that the craft in which A. H. had abandoned them had been returned. But where was he? The young detective asked the owner of the boat if he had seen Mr. Hendrick.

  “Sure, he came in about an hour ago,” the man replied.

  “Did he leave any message or give any reason for going off in the boat and deserting my friends and me at Bald Head Cave?”

  “Why, no! You mean to tell me he deliberately left you girls in that forsaken spot?”

  “He certainly did. I came to town for help. My friends are still there on the rocks, one with an injured ankle.”

  “That was a mean trick. I can’t understand it. Take the boat and go after your friends. Do you need any help?”

  “No, I can manage alone. Thanks just the same.”

  The boat owner filled the fuel tank for Nancy, and to make certain she would be prepared for any emergency, gave her an extra can of fuel.

  Although visibility was good on the water, late-afternoon shadows were beginning to darken the coast. At full speed, Nancy proceeded to Bald Head Cave, anxiously scanning the shoreline for a glimpse of her friends.

  To her relief she saw a flash of color amid the rocks at the base of the cliff. George and Bess were waiting for her on the beach.

  Overjoyed to see her, they shouted and waved. Supported by Bess, George limped through the shallow water to climb aboard the boat.

  “We thought you’d never get here.” Bess sighed. “Did you see A. H. while you were in Candleton?”

  Nancy shook her head.

  “Just wait till I meet him again!” George said angrily. “I’ll tell him a thing or two!”

  “I still think he must have had a reason for deserting us the way he did,” Nancy said. “How did you get along after I left?”

  “Okay,” replied George. “My ankle feels better now.”

  “No ghostly apparitions?”

  “Not one.”

  “How about the bell inside the cave?”

  “We didn’t hear a sound,” Bess said.

  Without further delay the girls sped directly to the boat dock and drove to a doctor’s office which Nancy had spotted on the main street.

  The physician, a friendly, middle-aged man, examined George’s ankle and bandaged it. “You have a slight sprain,” he said. “Take it easy for a few days.”

  Nancy and the girls went on to Mrs. Chantrey’s house. Mr. Drew, obviously upset, was walking restlessly about the lawn when they arrived.

  Before Nancy could ask what was wrong, he noticed George’s bandaged ankle and inquired what had happened. The girls told of their experience. Then Nancy said, “Dad, you seem upset. Tell us what’s the matter.”

  “I’m disgusted. Read this!”

  The lawyer thrust a telegram into his daughter’s hand. It had been sent from New York and was from one of the young assistants in his office.

  AS PER INSTRUCTIONS CALLED BROKERS OFFICE AND HOTEL. THEY HAVE SKIPPED. AWAIT FURTHER ORDERS.

  “That’s dreadful, Dad.”

  “Indeed it is! This ruins all my plans. The mistake I made was in giving Tyrox and the others a chance to make good. They should have been told nothing until I was ready to prosecute. Not only have they vanished with Mrs. Chantrey’s money, but probably that of other investors as well!”

  “You’ve never told me much about the case, Dad. What kind of stock was it Mrs. Chantrey bought? Anything I ever heard of?”

  “The stock is not listed on any exchange. I do wish Mrs. Chantrey had asked my advice before she bought shares in a worthless perfume company.”

  “A perfume company?”

  “Yes, a salesman showed her an impressive report of the firm’s earnings, which of course was a fake. Mrs. Chantrey thought she was buying into an old, well-established company dealing with exclusive French products of high quality.”

  “What’s the name of the firm, Dad?”

  “The Mon Coeur Perfume Company.”

  Nancy stared at her father, scarcely believing him. Mr. Drew noted his daughter’s startled expression.

  “Don’t tell me you know something about that company!” he exclaimed.

  “I’ve seen the Mon Coeur products,” Nancy replied
. “There’s a woman right here in Candleton who sells them. And I’ve seen a stout, red-faced man, whose looks I don’t like, on the street with her!”

  It was Mr. Drew’s turn to stare.

  “Your description of the man fits Harry Tyrox, one of the swindlers I’m after! He’s the head of the company. Nancy, do you think you can find him for me?”

  CHAPTER XI

  The Chemist’s Report

  WHILE Nancy was telling her father everything she knew about Madame and her fancy cart of cosmetics, Ned drove up and joined the Drews. He listened in amazement to the story.

  “Did that woman speak with a French accent?” Ned asked suddenly.

  “Yes.”

  “And did she wear her black hair pulled back, and have a mole on her left cheek?”

  “That’s a very accurate description,” Nancy agreed. “But I didn’t know you were close enough to her to make such a minute observation when we saw her the other day.”

  “I wasn’t!”

  “Then don’t keep us guessing. Where did you see her before?”

  “At the hotel in Fisher’s Cove. When I saw that woman with the cart here in Candleton I thought her face looked familiar. Ever since then I’ve tried to remember where I’d seen her before.”

  “She may have recognized you, Ned. That would explain why she hurried away so fast. Where was she in the hotel?”

  “She was coming down from the third floor as I was on my way up, and told me you had left the hotel. I didn’t reveal that you had just signaled to me from the window. But she must have sent the clerk up after me. They didn’t want me to find you and your father!”

  “It looks as if you’ve hit upon a good clue to locate the Mon Coeur swindlers,” Mr. Drew reflected. “Let’s take the car and see if we can find the woman with the cart.”

  For an hour the three searched through Candleton, asking for Madame. No one had seen her for several days.

  “She probably left town after she saw us, Ned,” Nancy said. “Maybe she went back to Fisher’s Cove.”

  “And you’d like to go there to find out,” Ned remarked, smiling. “How about you both having dinner with me in Fisher’s Cove?”

  Mr. Drew declined, saying he expected a phone call from his young assistant who was in New York.

  The three returned to the Chantrey house. While Nancy showered and changed her clothes, Ned chatted with Bess and George.

  Later, as he and Nancy drove off, he asked, “Shall we eat along the way or wait until we get to Fisher’s Cove?”

  “To be truthful, I’m dreadfully hungry,” Nancy confessed. “I haven’t eaten for hours. There’s an attractive place about five miles from here.”

  “I know the one you mean,” Ned answered. “They have good music and we can dance. We’ll stop there.”

  It was nearly nine o’clock when they finished eating. Ned and Nancy were reluctant to leave the pleasant atmosphere, but finally they went on to Fisher’s Cove and parked near the old hotel.

  “Don’t get into another fuss with the clerk,” Nancy teased her companion as they went inside.

  The interview with Mr. Slocum, who was on duty, started badly. When Ned asked if a woman answering the description of Madame had registered there, the man was as uncommunicative as before.

  “I don’t know whom you’re talking about,” he retorted, “and furthermore, I don’t care. All I ask is that you two quit bothering me.”

  “It should be of importance to you to know the kind of people who frequent your hotel,” Ned said.

  “You’d better watch what you say about this hotel!” the clerk cried out.

  Ned bristled, but Nancy restrained him, saying, “We’re not accomplishing a thing this way. Let’s go.”

  “Slocum knows more than he’ll tell,” said Ned as they walked away from the desk.

  Nancy told him that she had another plan for getting the information, and they left the hotel. From a nearby telephone, she called her father and told him of Slocum’s attitude.

  “How about having a plainclothesman stake out the hotel to watch everyone who enters or leaves the place?”

  “A good idea,” Mr. Drew agreed. “In fact, since we don’t know the woman’s name, it seems about the only way to spot her. I’ll arrange it.”

  Nancy was not too hopeful that the plan would bring results. She remarked to Ned on the way back to Candleton that if the Mon Coeur swindlers ever had made the Fisher’s Cove Hotel their headquarters, they certainly could have moved out by this time.

  “Isn’t it possible Madame is peddling her products in other small towns around?” Ned speculated.

  “Very possible. I mean to do some investigating.”

  “And I’ll make a date with you right now to help!”

  Nancy laughed. “But I want to start out soon after breakfast tomorrow.”

  “That’s okay with me,” Ned replied.

  “There’s no putting you off, I see.” Nancy chuckled. “All right. Nine-thirty in the morning. First we’ll attend church,” she added, “then look for Amos Hendrick. He owes us an explanation for running off with the boat.”

  Ned arrived promptly and they set off. After the service they went to the boat rental docks and boarding houses to inquire about the man but did not find him. Then, in search of Madame, they drove to one seashore resort after another. No one had seen the woman in days.

  “At least we’re following her trail,” Nancy said, refusing to be discouraged.

  She paused in front of a drugstore window which prominently displayed Mon Coeur cosmetics and perfume. “This shop is open,” Nancy said. “We ought to warn the druggist not to buy any more of the products.”

  “These may be better than the stuff Madame sells from her cart,” Ned suggested. “It’s possible she gets good perfume and dilutes it to make a high profit for herself.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Suppose I buy some of these and have them analyzed by a chemist.”

  “Good idea,” Ned replied. “I have a college friend not far from Candleton who will make the report for us, and we can depend on it being accurate.”

  Nancy purchased a lipstick, a box of powder, and a small vial of perfume. Later that afternoon Ned took them to his friend, John Sander, who lived a few miles down the shore. Only two years out of Emerson College, which Ned now attended, the young man already had become well known as a chemist

  “John promises us a report by tomorrow night,” Ned told Nancy upon his return. “I suggested that he bring it over to Candleton. He’s going to get hold of Bill Malcome—you remember him. We’ll make it a sixsome for the yacht club dance. Okay?”

  “Sounds like fun.” Nancy smiled. “I’m sure Bess and George would love it, too.”

  When the cousins heard about the date, they were pleased. Both knew Bill, who had escorted George to several parties in River Heights.

  “I won’t be able to dance with this ankle,” said George, “but Bill likes talking better than dancing anyway, so we’ll catch up on the news.”

  The following evening the girls had just finished dressing when their escorts arrived. Nancy ran downstairs ahead of the others to greet the boys. They were talking with Mr. Drew. Ned introduced John, who seemed to be a pleasant person.

  “Did you bring the report?” Nancy asked him.

  “I can give it to you in a few words,” the chemist replied. “The sample of perfume proved to be mostly water.”

  “I thought so!” Nancy exclaimed.

  “The face powder contained chalk—the common schoolroom variety—mixed with a little ordinary rice powder to give it texture. The lipstick contains a cheap substance, which really is danger ous to the skin.”

  “We must alert the druggist who has been carrying these products,” Nancy declared. “I’ll call him tomorrow morning.” With a sigh, she added, “Wait until poor Bess hears this! She bought a bottle of that perfume.”

  Bess came downstairs at this moment and met the chemist. The truth of his f
indings was not easy for her to accept. She was ashamed that she had not followed Nancy and George’s advice.

  “I’d like to know what the perfume is like,” Mr. Drew spoke up. “Would you mind getting your bottle, Bess?”

  She hastened to her room and returned with the bottle. As Bess uncorked it, a strange, not too pleasant fragrance permeated the air.

  “That dreadful stuff gets worse the longer it stands!” George declared.

  “Why, how funny—” the lawyer started to say, then sank into a chair, staring into space. Alarmed, Nancy darted to his side.

  “Dad!”

  “I’m quite all right, my dear,” her father said. “But that perfume—”

  “Cork the bottle,” George ordered her cousin.

  “No, no, that’s not necessary,” said the lawyer. “The perfume doesn’t bother me. But I connect it with something unpleasant.”

  “In what way, Dad?” Nancy asked.

  Mr. Drew seemed lost in thought for several seconds. Then suddenly he snapped his fingers.

  “I have it! I remember now!” he cried excitedly. “The woman in the taxi with me! She used that same perfume!”

  CHAPTER XII

  The Candlemaker Helps

  As the other young people went outside to get into the cars, Nancy and Ned lingered behind to talk further with Mr. Drew about the woman in the taxi.

  “Are you sure she had on Mon Coeur perfume?” the young detective asked her father.

  “Positive.”

  Nancy asked him to describe the woman again. The lawyer said he had not paid much attention to her, but recalled she was dark, had rather large features, and wore her hair so it covered a good part of her face.

  “She could have been Madame,” Nancy said excitedly. “Dad, you thought those Mon Coeur men in New York might have given you a slow-acting drug. Perhaps Madame was their accomplice.”

  “You’re probably right,” her father agreed.

  “Maybe,” Nancy said, “you weren’t drugged in New York but by the woman in the taxi.”

  “But how?”

  “With the perfume.”

  “You mean the woman may have mixed that sweet-smelling perfume with something to drug me?”