Triple Alarm

“THAT must be it, ” Nancy thought, trying to control her mounting excitement. She and Mrs. Chatham exchanged looks of apprehension. They hoped the official would not ask questions about the treasure. Both were quickly relieved when the men merely glanced at the enclosed sheet, put it back, and went on to examine the rest of the papers. Finally the contents were listed. Nothing was taxable. At length Mrs. Chatham and Nancy were left alone.

“Thank goodness! ” Mrs. Chatham murmured in relief. “Now we can look in that envelope. Surely it must contain the missing map.”

With trembling fingers she took out the contents.

“It’s a letter, ” she said, unable to hide her disappointment.

“Is it signed by Captain Tomlin? ” Nancy asked. “Yes, this is his handwriting.”

Did the letter tell what became of the missing treasure map? Nancy wondered.

Her voice vibrant with emotion, Mrs. Chatham read the entire note aloud. In it her first husband revealed details of his early life never before disclosed to her, including the fact he had dropped the name Abner because he did not like it. There were other facts sufficient to prove that he and Tomlin Smith were twin brothers.

“So that part of the mystery is solved! ” said Nancy.

The letter concerned itself mainly with the inheritance originally secreted by Captain Tomlin’s seafaring grandfather.

“Listen to this! ” Mrs. Chatham exclaimed as she came to a particularly significant paragraph.

“‘All these years I have kept the torn section of a treasure map given me by my father. Fearing theft I made a copy of it. Only a month ago, this very copy was stolen from my cabin, unquestionably by a member of the crew.’ ”

“What is the date of the letter? ” Nancy asked as the widow paused to catch her breath.

“It was written only a week before my husband’s death. He continues:

“‘I have taken the original map and hidden it on the Warwick. This map, if combined with the section in the possession of my missing twin brother, will lead to the discovery of our grandfather’s great treasure.’ ”

“That doesn’t add up! ” Nancy exclaimed. “Wasn’t the Warwick the name of the vessel your husband sailed? ”

“You’re right, Nancy, it was.”

“Then how could he have removed the parchment map from his own ship and still have hidden it there? ”

“Perhaps he meant he hid it somewhere in another part of the vessel—away from his cabin, ” Mrs. Chatham suggested.

“That doesn’t seem likely, ” Nancy said, shaking her head. “No, I’m sure Captain Tomlin never would have risked having the original found by members of his crew. Especially after the copy had been stolen.”

Mrs. Chatham furrowed her brow in bewilderment as Nancy went on, “Apparently he thought you would understand where the map was hidden.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea! ”

Nancy was silent for several moments as she reread the letter. Then suddenly her face brightened.

“I get it! ” she exclaimed. “Captain Tomlin owned the ship models you have at the studio on Rocky Edge, didn’t he? ”

“Yes. He had many of them custom-built.”

“And they were sent to you from the ship after his death? ”

“Yes.”

“Among the collection was there a replica of the Warwick? ”

“Oh dear! I can’t remember, ” Mrs. Chatham said. “There were so many of the little boats. I sold a few of them.”

Nancy was worried. Mrs. Chatham might have sold the Warwick!

“You think my husband hid his half of the map in a model of the Warwick? ” the widow asked.

“Doesn’t that seem reasonable? ” Nancy replied.

“Oh, it does! ” the woman cried in despair. “And to think I may have disposed of it unwittingly! I’ll have no peace of mind until we find out. We’ll take the first plane home, ” Mrs. Chatham decided instantly.

The two were soon en route to River Heights. Aided by a strong tail wind, their plane arrived ahead of schedule.

They hailed a taxi and rode to Rocky Edge. As the cab rolled through the open gate, Nancy observed that no guards were on duty.

“Shouldn’t at least one of the special detectives be stationed at the gate? ” she inquired.

“They aren’t detectives, ” Mrs. Chatham replied. “My gardener knew two strong men who were out of work, so we gave them the job. I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”

Shortly the taxi pulled up in front of the main house. As Nancy and Mrs. Chatham stepped out, a servant rushed up to them.

“Oh, Mrs. Chatham, ” the young woman said, puffing, “what are we going to do? What are we going to do? ” she repeated hurriedly. “I’m so sorry, so very sorry.”

The widow put a comforting arm around the girl’s shoulders and tried to remain calm. “Now tell me what the problem is, ” she said. “No one’s had an accident I hope.”

“No, no, ” came the sobbing reply.

Mrs. Chatham’s face grew stem. “Well, then tell me what’s going on, ” she said, raising her voice abruptly.

“Trixie is missing! ”

“What! ”

“Your daughter is missing. We can’t find her anywhere.”

The words ringing loudly in her ears, Mrs. Chatham made no response. She stumbled up the porch steps to a chair.

Nancy had been silent, not wishing to interrupt the woman’s conversation with her employee. But now she inquired if Ellen Smith and Hannah Gruen had left.

Tears trickled down the young woman’s face. She answered, “They both went away right after lunch. Miss Smith had to leave because of a singing lesson. And your housekeeper, Miss Drew, left because she couldn’t get anything to eat. The cook resented her being here and wouldn’t even make her a sandwich, much less let her into the kitchen to fix her own meal.”

“Where are the guards? ” Nancy asked.

“Oh, they got better jobs, so they left.”

Nancy coaxed the girl to tell as much, as she could about Trixie’s disappearance.

“She’s been gone close to two hours, ” was the reply.

Mrs. Chatham spoke up. “Have you searched everywhere? Over the cliff—and down by the river? ”

“Yes, Madam, everywhere.”

Mrs. Chatham seemed relieved by this statement. “Then Trixie has run away! Well, this isn’t the first time. She’ll come home.”

“I don’t wish to alarm you, Mrs. Chatham, ” said Nancy, “but I’m afraid she may have been kidnapped.”

The widow gasped. “Then we must call the police at once! ”

As the child’s mother started toward the house, Nancy followed closely. When they entered the hall both noticed a sheet of paper lying near the telephone.

“What’s this? ” Mrs. Chatham asked, picking it up.

At a glance she saw that it was a ransom note. Written in a bold scrawl was the alarming message:

If you want to see your kid again have this amount ready when our messenger arrives. Do not notify the police or you’ll be sorry.

At the bottom of the paper was a request for thousands of dollars.

“Oh, no! ” Mrs. Chatham groaned.

For a moment Nancy thought the woman was going to faint but she managed to steady herself and sat down.

“I don’t want to pay the money, ” Mrs. Chatham stated, then said, “But what will happen to Trixie if I refuse? ”

“Please don’t worry about that—at least not yet, ” Nancy said, studying the ransom note again. “The kidnapping could be an inside job.”

“I don’t agree with you, ” Mrs. Chatham returned with conviction. “While my servants may be careless, they’re all dependable. Whoever left this note here did so without the knowledge of my employees.”

Nancy tactfully withheld her own opinion.

“I think I should call the police, ” Mrs. Chatham said nervously.

“Please wait until we’ve had an opportunity to search the grounds thoroughly, ” Nancy advised. “I have an idea.”

Without explaining her hunch, Nancy hurried from the house. She ran down the path, a question burning in her brain. Was Trixie a prisoner somewhere on the estate? Perhaps in Ship Cottage with its secret room and sliding panels?

Cautiously Nancy opened the door of the music studio and peered inside. The room was vacant, but on a chair lay a child’s hair ribbon.

Nancy groped for the peg which opened the secret panel. As the wall slid back slowly she was almost certain she heard a movement in the dark chamber.

“Trix—” she started to call.

At the same moment a hard object struck Nancy and she blacked out.