(#23) Mystery of the Tolling Bell (3 page)

“Do you suppose the man thinks the gems are hidden in the Revere bell? Why, it’s another mystery, Nancy!”

“Not so loud,” the young detective warned with a quick glance around her. “If the contents of this paper should become known, some dishonest person in Candleton might start buying all the old bells around and selling them at a fancy profit.”

“What is an XXX bell, Nancy?”

“I don’t know, but my guess is the three X’s might be the trademark of the maker.”

“Wouldn’t it be marvelous if we could find one ourselves!”

“That’s an idea,” Nancy said with a smile as she folded the paper. “We should return this to the customer who lost it. I wish I knew his name.”

Neither Dora nor Mrs. Chantrey could provide any information about the elderly man. They were sure he had never been to the Salsandee Shop before.

“If the paper is valuable and belongs to him, he’ll come back here to look for it,” Nancy reasoned.

Mrs. Chantrey sealed the message in an envelope and dropped it into a desk drawer, instructing Dora to give it to the stranger should he call. Then, grateful to the girls for their efficient help, she insisted they stop work and return to her house.

“I’ll go with you,” she declared. “Dora will be able to take care of the few customers who may drop in between now and closing time. But first we’ll have some dinner.”

The moon was rising as the three girls later walked along the beach with their hostess. Farther up White Cap Bay they glimpsed a light-house, and Mrs. Chantrey pointed out Whistling Oyster Cove and Bald Head Cliff.

“Such picturesque names!” George remarked, stooping to pick up an odd-shaped shell. “Is fishing the chief occupation here, Mrs. Chantrey?”

“I’d say the making of salt-water taffy is!” She chuckled. “But seriously, there’s one interesting spot you must visit,” Mrs. Chantrey went on. “Mother Mathilda’s Candle Shop.”

“Did those lovely ones at the Salsandee Shop come from there?” Bess inquired.

“Yes. You may have noticed they’re lightly perfumed.”

As Bess and George asked questions about the village and its inhabitants, Nancy remained unusually quiet. She was concerned about her father’s absence. Deep in thought, she was startled when her hostess suddenly asked about him.

“When will Carson arrive in Candleton, Nancy? We were expecting him this morning.”

“I thought he’d be here before us,” she replied. “Dad telephoned before I left River Heights and said he was taking a plane from New York.”

Although Mr. Drew was a busy man, and Nancy realized that he might have been delayed by unexpected business, he had never failed to let her know of a change in plans.

“Now don’t worry about your father,” Mrs. Chantrey said quickly. “Perhaps there’s a message at home.”

Nancy brightened at the suggestion. But when they reached the house, June Barber said that no word had come. Even though Nancy was greatly concerned, she decided that she could not allow worry over her father’s absence to spoil the evening for Bess and George.

“Tomorrow we must explore White Cap Bay,” she said. “Mrs. Chantrey, in your letter you mentioned a mystery along the shore.”

Her hostess smiled. “It concerns the cave at the base of Bald Head Cliff. My advice to you would be to avoid the spot.”

“Please tell us why,” Nancy urged.

“I’ve never been there myself,” Mrs. Chantrey continued, “but townspeople say it’s spooky and dangerous. According to the tale, Bald Head Cave is inhabited by a ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts, but the fact remains that some unhappy accidents have occurred in that area. Several persons nearly drowned, and one man lost his life.”

“How do the accidents happen?” Nancy asked.

“It’s said the ghost causes water to rush out of the cave. He tolls a warning bell whenever people are near, and if they don’t leave at once, the water engulfs them.”

Bess shivered. “If the ghost were human, he’d drown too. So the thing must be supernatural.”

“How long has this been going on?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t know exactly,” Mrs. Chantrey replied. “But not for long. From what I hear, I judge the cave has always been there, but not the ghost nor the rushing water nor the tolling bell.”

“Has the cave been explored?” George asked.

“A few venturesome men have tried it but learned nothing.”

The story excited Nancy’s curiosity. She thought about it late into the night, and concluded there must be some logical explanation for the phenomenon. As Nancy dropped off to sleep, she told herself that the only way to find out was to go there herself and investigate.

In the morning, however, Nancy forgot about exploring the cave. No message had come from her father and she was unable to hide her alarm. She called her home in River Heights. Hannah Gruen had heard nothing from Mr. Drew and she in turn became worried.

A call to the lawyer’s office brought no reassurance. Mr. Drew’s secretary was on vacation, and the girl who was taking her place said she thought he had gone to Candleton.

“And there was no word from New York?”

“None at all.”

Discouraged, Nancy thanked her and hung up.

“Perhaps he’s been in an accident,” she told her friends.

“Now do stop worrying, Nancy,” Bess said kindly. “If your father had been in an accident, someone in River Heights would have been notified.”

“Your father will be along any time now, so stop building up gory pictures,” George cut in. To get Nancy’s mind off the matter, she added, “How about exploring Bald Head Cave this morning?”

“All right,” Nancy agreed with forced cheer-fulness. “I wonder how we reach the place.”

They learned from June that even at low tide the only safe approach to Bald Head Cave was by motorboat. When she realized the girls intended to go there, June warned them not to venture near the cave. Nancy assured her they would be careful. She and her friends left the house and rented a sturdy craft from a fisherman at a nearby boathouse.

Under Nancy’s guidance the small boat put-putted slowly along the shore. Rising above the water, and stretching out for about two miles, were the colorful cliffs which had attracted artists from all parts of the country.

“I see a man up on that cliff with a telescope,” George said, scowling. “He’s looking at us. I hate people with telescopes. They have an unfair advantagel”

Nancy laughed as she steered nearer shore. “No doubt summer visitors are resented by the all-year inhabitants.”

The man disappeared from view as the boat came into the shadow of the cliff.

“Look! The entrance to the cave!” George cried as they reached an indentation about half a mile from the ocean. “It’s rather large.”

“Let’s just explore the outside,” Bess suggested nervously.

Nancy smiled as she switched off the boat’s motor, allowing the craft to drift closer to shore. “You know very well, Bess, we couldn’t learn a thing without going inside the cave.”

“Besides, the story must be exaggerated,” George added. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

Bess, whose gaze had been focused steadily on the cave entrance, suddenly gripped her cousin’s arm.

“What is it?” George whispered.

For a moment Bess, badly shaken, could not speak. Then, with a trembling hand, she pointed toward the dark mouth of the cavern and said shakily:

“The ghost! I saw its white robe. It—it went back into the cave!”

Startled by Bess’s words, Nancy and George gazed toward the cave entrance. They could see nothing but the dark opening framed by rocks and water.

“You must have imagined it, Bess,” declared George. “There’s no ghost—nothing white.”

“Not now, but it was there!”

“What did it look like?” Nancy asked.

“I saw only a white blur. But then, ghosts aren’t supposed to have a regular form.”

“You probably mistook a sea gull for a ghost.” George laughed.

Bess’s lips drew into a thin, stubborn line. “It certainly was not a bird,” she insisted. “But forget it. Even if that cave were inhabited by twenty ghosts, I know I couldn’t talk you two out of exploring it!”

Nancy had no intention of venturing farther in a reckless manner. As the boat drifted closer, she studied the entrance to the cave and listened intently.

“Hear any warning bell?” George asked jokingly.

Nancy shook her head. The only sound was the roar of the ocean in the distance.

“What’s your plan?” George inquired.

“The cave is quite wide and if the water is deep enough we can row the boat inside,” Nancy replied. From the bottom of the craft she picked up the lead line and began to take soundings at the entranceway. “The water is nearly two feet deep here,” she announced, measuring the wet section of the line. “Our boat can’t go aground.”

Using the oars, the girls cautiously rowed through the cave entrance into the dark interior. Nancy, who always carried a flashlight with her, swept its beam over the jagged stone walls. There was a natural ledge on one side, etched in the rock by erosion. The walls were damp, and the temperature much lower than on the sunny bay.

“It seems like a very ordinary cavern,” commented George, relaxing. “No ghost. No bell. No water pouring out.”

Nancy maneuvered the boat to the ledge and fastened the painter securely to a jagged piece of rock.

“What are you going to do?” Bess demanded.

“I want to walk along the ledge for a short distance. This cave may have an inner room. It’s too dark to tell from here, and if we take the boat much farther, we may have difficulty getting out.”

Bess was reluctant to leave the craft, but when she saw that George intended going with Nancy, she too climbed out on the ledge.

Nancy’s roving flashlight cut dancing patterns on the water-stained walls as the three girls moved cautiously along the narrow ledge.

“I’m not going on!” Bess announced suddenly, turning and hurrying back toward the boat.

“Well, how about it, Nancy?” George inquired dubiously. “This place is—”

Her gaze was fixed on a portion of the ledge far back in the cave.

“The ghost!” she whispered tremulously. “I saw it just then—a figure in white!”

Nancy had observed nothing, but George’s fear increased her own growing uneasiness.

“We’ll go,” Nancy agreed.

The two girls walked rapidly along the ledge toward the entrance. They had taken scarcely a dozen steps when a bell began to ring far back in the cave. Loud and full in tone, the pealing held a mournful note as if tolling for departed spirits.

Electrified by the sound, Nancy and George stopped suddenly. The same terrifying thought came to each of them.

“The warning bell Mrs. Chantrey told us about!” cried George. “It rings just before water rushes through the cave!”

Nancy seized her by the hand. “Come on!” she urged. “We must get out of here–fastl”

“Listen!” George cried tensely. “That roaring sound! Hear it?”

Both girls froze to the spot, for the sound they heard was the mad rush of a great wall of water plunging toward them with the speed of an express train.

“Run!” screamed Nancy. “Run for your life!”

CHAPTER IV

Nancy Vanishes

THE boat was still some distance away, tied to the jagged rock. Nancy knew that she and George never could reach it before the water struck them. But Bess, who stood on the ledge of the cave beside the craft, might escape.

“Get in the boat! Cast off!” Nancy shouted frantically.

It took Bess only a second to realize her great danger. She bent down to loosen the rope.

The next instant the great wall of water rushed through the cave, sweeping everything before it. Nancy and George, struggling desperately, were engulfed.

Instinctively Bess clung to the painter of the boat. As the water struck her, the rope snapped free of the rock. The craft raced toward the cave entrance.

Bess, holding fast to the rope, was carried face downward through the torrent.

Almost suffocated, Bess clung with all her strength to the rope as the boat shot from the mouth of the cave. Finally, when the speed of the craft lessened, she was able to raise her head to take a deep breath of air and grasp the gunwale.

The motorboat was half-filled with water. Bess knew if she climbed aboard, it probably would sink. Swimming with one hand, the girl tried to tow the boat toward shore. It was difficult going.

Frantically her eyes darted toward the cave entrance. Water still boiled from the cavern’s gaping mouth. What had happened to her friends?

“Nancy! George!” she shouted.

There was no answer. Bess did not try to call out again. She concentrated all her efforts upon reaching the rocky beach.

Presently her feet struck bottom. Standing upright, she pulled the boat in so it could not float away, and began bailing water. As she worked, the distressed girl kept scanning the bay, hoping she might see Nancy or George.

“They’re both good swimmers. I’m sure they reached safety,” she told herself hopefully.

But in a moment panic seized her again. Possibly the girls had not been swept from the cave. They might have been caught inside and drowned!

Her mind numbed by fear, Bess worked automatically on the boat, hardly taking her gaze from the water. She suddenlv detected an object some distance away. Could it be a swimmer?

Leaping to a high rock, Bess shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun. Yes, someone was swimming feebly. Even as she looked, the person disappeared.

“Hold on! Don’t give up!” she shouted as the swimmer reappeared. “I’ll reach you in a minute, George.”

Bess rushed to the boat and tried to start the motor. It was waterlogged and refused to catch. The oars had been washed overboard. After kicking off her shoes, Bess plunged into the water.

“I’m coming!” she screamed.

Bess reached her cousin not a moment too soon.

“I’m–all–in,” George gasped. “Hurt my arm.”

Bess, realizing the other girl could no longer help herself, grasped her in the cross-chest carry and pulled her through the water. But it seemed as if she could not possibly reach the shore. Burdened by George’s weight, and with her own strength giving out, she found it harder and harder to keep going.