(#23) Mystery of the Tolling Bell (4 page)

But just as Bess was about to give up in despair, her feet came in contact with the bottom. Standing up, she discovered that the water was only a little above her waist.

Bess pulled the exhausted George to safety. It was several moments before either of them could speak. Finally George mumbled:

“Nancy—Is—she—safe?”

Fear for their missing friend drove Bess into a panic. Anxiously she looked about. Nancy was not in sight.

When Bess did not answer, George tried to pull herself to a sitting position. But it was useless. Her strength was gone, and her left arm, bruised on the rocks when she had been catapulted from the cave, hung limp.

“Nancy—was—beside me—in the cave,” she said brokenly. “That was the last I saw of her.”

Tears rolled down the cheeks of both girls. Each was silent with her own thoughts. Then suddenly Bess sprang toward the motorboat. She was just in time to prevent the rising tide from carrying it down White Cap Bay. As Bess tied the rope to a rock on the shore, she was startled to hear a faint “Hello” from the direction of the cliff above the cave.

“Nancy’s voice!” she exclaimed joyfully. “She’s safe! But where?”

Excitedly calling a reply, she and George waited eagerly for another shout. But it did not come. Bess waded into the water and looked up. Nancy was seated high on the cliff among the rocks.

“There she isl” Bess cried out. “Thank goodnessl”

Relieved, George felt her strength returning. She got up, and together the girls shouted reassuringly to Nancy. But she did not seem to see or hear them. How were they to reach her?

“We’ll have to use the boat,” George decided. “Where are the oars?”

“Gone. And the motor won’t start,” Bess said forlornly. “But maybe I can dry it off.”

In a watertight compartment under one of the seats she found a few dry rags which she used to wipe off the engine parts. After several sputters the motor finally started and the girls were able to get under way.

“Now where’s Nancy?” Bess asked, steering toward the mouth of the cave and looking up.

Their friend had disappeared!

Shouting her name several times, the cousins cruised back and forth near the base of the cliff. Nancy, however, did not reappear.

“She may have found a road up there and decided to hitchhike or walk to the boathouse,” George decided at length. “Let’s go back.”

Upon reaching the boathouse, the girls saw Nancy’s car parked exactly where it had been left a few hours earlier. Their friend was not there, and the fisherman from whom they had rented the boat reported that she had not returned.

The man looked hard at the girls. Although the hot sun had dried their clothing, they presented a very bedraggled appearance. They replied briefly to the fisherman’s questions, but did not reveal all the details of their mishap at Bald Head Cave. They thanked him for the use of the boat, paid him for it and also for the lost oars. Then they left.

“We must find Nancy,” George declared anxiously. “Let’s take the car and drive to the cliff. We may meet her on the road.” Fortunately she knew where Nancy kept an extra key to the automobile.

“But what about your arm?” Bess objected.

“It feels much better,” George declared. “The numbness is gone now. I can move it.”

Meanwhile, Nancy was making an effort to recover from her own frightening experience. The great rush of water had washed her out of the cave just behind George. Being a strong swimmer, she made her way back to the cliff and struggled to a handhold amid the rocks some distance from the entrance of the cave.

She pulled herself out of the water, and for a time lay panting on the rocks. Then, getting to her feet, she looked about in search of her friends. The uneven line of the cliff obscured her view, and she could not see Bess or George.

After shouting their names several times, Nancy climbed higher. From this perch, she saw the motorboat and both girls on the shore. Relieved that they were safe, she tried to figure out a way to reach them. She decided to climb to the top, in the hope that she could find a path that would lead down to her friends. When Nancy reached the top, she stood still to look around. Suddenly she began to feel light-headed and had to sit down.

“I’m getting to be a sissy,” she scolded herself. “I must go on.”

But Nancy seemed unable to move from the spot. She became so drowsy she had to lie down. The warm sun and a faint sweet aroma added to her drowsiness. Delightfully comfortable, she lost all track of time.

Then, as if from a long distance away, Nancy thought she heard voices. Two men seemed to be arguing violently. Or was she dreaming?

Pulling herself up to a sitting position with great effort, Nancy gazed about her. She could see no one.

Then she fell back and drifted off into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER V

A Warning Message

DEEP in slumber, Nancy dreamed that she lay cushioned upon a soft, sweet-smelling meadow. Nearby a flock of sheep grazed peacefully, and the faint tinkle of bells came to her ears.

Presently two little brown elves crept from beneath a bush and stared at her as if she were an intruder. Nancy heard one of them say:

“We can’t allow her to stay here.”

“We certainly can’t,” agreed the other elf, whose voice was deeper. “We must move her before she wakes up.”

Nancy tried to resist, but the elves seemed to have cast a spell over her. Powerless to move, she attempted to open her eyes but the lids felt as heavy as stones.

Borne upon the shoulders of the elves, she was carried a long distance. Then they put her down, but the couch was not a comfortable one. Something sharp cut into her back. Nancy rolled over, and suddenly was wide awake.

Sitting up, she gazed about her in bewilderment. Her clothing had dried in the sun but was very crumpled, reminding her of the struggle she had gone through to keep from drowning.

Nancy listened for the roar of the surf but all was quiet. She was not on a couch but in a roadside ditch strewn with sharp rocks and pebbles. Bayberry and other bushes covered the distance between her and a narrow dirt road.

“How did I get here?” Nancy asked herself, rubbing her eyes. Dimly she recalled the dream in which elves had transported her from her resting place on the cliff. Had someone actually carried her to the roadside?

“Either I wandered in my sleep, or I’m having hallucinations. Perhaps I struck my head in the cave.”

Getting to her feet, Nancy gingerly tested her arms and legs. They were stiff and cramped, but she did not have a single scratch.

“Who knows, I may have been lying in that ditch for an hour or longer,” she reasoned, not trusting the time on her water-soaked watch. “I wonder what Bess and George thought when I didn’t show up. Probably they went home. I must find a phone and call them!”

Though confused by her experience, and frightened that another lapse of memory might overtake her, Nancy tramped quickly down the road. She kept hoping a car would pass, but none came along.

At length she reached a farmhouse. Seeing a well in the yard, she crossed a cinder path to draw herself a cool drink. A woman, wearing a faded gingham apron, peered curiously out the screen door.

“Goodness!” she exclaimed, coming outside. “You look all tuckered out! Have you walked far?”

Nancy hung up the long-handled dipper from which she had been drinking.

“Yes, I’ve walked a long distance,” she said quietly. “My friends and I had an accident with our boat. May I use your phone?”

“Bless you, we haven’t one. The nearest phone is at the Gladstone Dairy, half a mile down the road.” Nancy looked so discouraged that the woman added kindly, “Do sit down and tell me what happened. Are your friends safe?”

“I think so. We became separated. Where am I now? Far from Candleton?”

The woman stared at the girl curiously. “Don’t you know?”

Nancy shook her head, dropping into a chair near the kitchen door. “I’m a stranger here. After the accident, I became confused.”

“You’re about three miles from Candleton, and a quarter mile from the bay. You weren’t by any chance near Bald Head Cave when the accident occurred?” The woman’s eyes opened wide.

“How did I get here?” Nancy asked herself.

Nancy could see that the farmer’s wife was terrified of the cave. The young sleuth realized she must be careful of what she said.

“Is Bald Head Cave near here?” she countered innocently.

“Over there.” The woman pointed in a south-easterly direction. “Fishing’s good thereabouts,” she added, “but you got to be careful. Once my husband was in his boat near the cave entrance when a flood o’ water came rushing out. He was lucky to get away alive.”

Bald Head Cave was a subject Nancy did not care to discuss any further. After declining the woman’s offer of a glass of lemonade, she asked if there was anyone at the farmhouse who could drive her to Candleton.

“I’ll pay him well,” she added.

“Bless you, it’s not a matter of money. My husband went to town and he isn’t back yet. He’ll likely drive in about sunset.”

Nancy felt she could not wait. She thanked the woman for her kindness, then started off. Presently a car came speeding down the road toward her. It looked familiar.

“Why, that’s my convertible!” she exclaimed.

As she shouted and waved the driver braked and the car came to a halt. At the steering wheel was Ned Nickerson, a friend of Nancy’s, who was staying nearby to sell insurance to parents of two college friends. Bess and George were with him.

“Thank goodness you’re safe, Nancy!” Ned cried, swinging open the car door and jumping out.

Bess and George also jumped out and rushed up to Nancy. “We were worried sick!” exclaimed Bess.

“We all had a narrow squeak,” George said grimly.

Ned explained that he had stopped at Mrs. Chantrey’s cottage. Learning from June that the girls had gone to Bald Head Cave, he had driven to the waterfront intending to rent a boat and find them. There he had met Bess and George.

Ned took Nancy’s arm and led her toward the car.

“Has my father arrived?” she asked eagerly.

“Not yet.” George shook her head.

“Any word from him?”

Again the answer was no.

“I’m sure your father is all right,” Ned told them. “Maybe he sent a message that never reached you.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Nancy conceded. She smiled at the young man beside her. “I’m sorry you found me looking so disheveled.”

“Well,” he said, laughing, “you look all right to me. But suppose you tell us about your experience after you left the cave.”

Rather self-consciously Nancy related her strange dream and told of awakening in the roadside ditch. “I must have been completely out of my mind,” she ended dismally.

“Perhaps you didn’t wander in your sleep,” Ned suggested. “You may have been carried.”

“By elves? Oh, Ned!”

“By two man-sized elves. Notice anyone near the cave after the accident?”

“I wasn’t in a state to observe anything.” Nancy’s blue eyes clouded with thought. “But I do recall—those voices—they sounded human!”

“Why do you suppose anyone would have carried you from the cliff?” George asked disbelievingly.

Nancy shrugged, declaring, “All I know is that when I investigate Bald Head Cave again, I’ll go—”

“Alone!” Bess finished darkly. “So far as I’m concerned that mystery is welcome to remain forever unsolved.”

Then, seeing a roadside stand, she reminded the others that they had not eaten since breakfast. After a quick meal, Ned again took the wheel.

During the rest of the ride to Candleton, the three girls exchanged accounts of their strange and terrifying experience inside the cave.

“Why don’t I try my luck there tomorrow?” Ned proposed.

“Don’t even think about it!” Bess said, and was vigorously supported by George. “The cave is too dangerous!”

When they reached Candleton, Ned picked up his car. Then Nancy, eager to learn if her father had written, suggested that they stop at the post office.

“Nothing for any of us,” she reported in disappointment a few minutes later.

“Maybe there’s word at the house,” Bess suggested.

When they reached the cottage the young people heard the phone ringing. As they hurried up the steps, June came to the door.

“Phone for you,” she told Nancy. “A gentleman.”

“There!” Bess exclaimed triumphantly. “It’s sure to be your father, Nancy!”

Nancy dashed into the hall.

“Hello, Dad?” she said eagerly.

But it was not her father who answered. The voice was that of a stranger.

“Listen carefully,” he directed in clipped tones. “Your father requests that you meet him this afternoon at Fisher’s Cove Hotel. Come as quickly as you can—alone.”

“Who are you?” Nancy asked. “Why are you calling for my father?”

There was no answer. The man had hung up.

As Nancy turned slowly from the phone she found Ned standing behind her. After repeating the conversation, she asked for his advice.

“Don’t go,” he said instantly. “It’s a trick.”

“I’m afraid so myself, Ned. On the other hand, Dad may have a special reason for wanting me to meet him there. I must take a chance and go!”