The Collector

SOON after Nancy and Ned returned to Mrs. Chantrey’s, Ned said good-by. Early that evening, before their hostess came in, Bess and George went to the movies. Nancy and her father sat alone on the porch.

“It’s wonderful to be here with you, Dad, ” Nancy said affectionately. “But I’m getting a bit restless. You hinted at my being able to help you on Mrs. Chantrey’s case. You haven’t given me my job yet.”

“That’s right, Nancy. But you must admit I was delayed in carrying on my own work. Thanks to you, though, I got out of that awful hotel. Now I can continue where I left off.

“A New York broker named Harry Tyrox, ” Mr. Drew went on grimly, “sold Mrs. Chantrey a lot of bad stock. He and his gang of sharp operators must be prosecuted. I’m afraid, though, ” the lawyer added, “that Mrs. Chantrey will never get her money back.”

“Have you told her? ” Nancy asked.

“No, but I think she suspects it. The job I had for you, Nancy, concerns Mrs. Chantrey herself. I’m afraid if someone doesn’t bolster her morale, she may break down.”

“Oh! ” Nancy exclaimed, then whispered, “Sh, Dad, here she comes.”

Mrs. Chantrey walked up the porch steps, looking very tired. Nancy asked about her day at the Salsandee Shop, and she admitted she was having trouble again with her employees. A waitress had given up her job without notice, and one of the shop’s most reliable cooks had had an accident and was unable to work.

“I don’t know what I’ll do.” The tearoom owner gave a deep sigh.

“Why not use me again? ” Nancy volunteered. “I’d love to help. I’m sure Bess and George would too.”

“It isn’t fair to you girls, ” their hostess protested. “I invited you here for a vacation.”

“And we’re having a grand one! ” Nancy declared. “Why, it’s fun working at the Salsandee Shop. And I have another reason for wanting to be there, ” the girl added. “I’m especially interested in one of your customers.”

“Do you mean the man who dropped the paper telling about the XXX bell with the jewels in it? ” Mrs. Chantrey asked.

“That’s right. Did he ever come to claim it? ”

“No, he never returned. The paper is still in the drawer at the shop.”

Early the next morning Bess, George, and Nancy donned uniforms and once more took up their duties at the tearoom.

Nancy wondered if she would ever meet “the bell man” again. She was very much pleased, therefore, when she saw him come in at three o’clock. He paused at the cashier’s desk, and Nancy heard him say in an agitated voice:

“My name is Hendrick—Amos Hendrick. Only this morning I discovered the loss of a certain paper. It’s valuable, and I’ll pay a good reward to get it back. I’m not certain I lost it here, but there’s a chance it dropped from my pocket when I paid my bill.”

“I’ll ask the owner, Mr. Hendrick, ” the cashier replied.

“A. H., if you please, ” the man said firmly. “I don’t like to be called Hendrick.”

There was no need for the cashier to ask Mrs. Chantrey about the paper. Nancy identified the man as the person who had sat at the table where she had found the strange message.

“And you’re the pretty little waitress who served me so nicely, ” Mr. Hendrick said with a smile.

Nancy searched the desk drawer where the envelope with the mysterious message had been placed. She went through its contents carefully. Satisfied that the paper was not there, she searched the other drawers. The secret message could not be found. Neither Mrs. Chantrey nor any of the employees was able to throw light on its disappearance.

Mr. Hendrick plainly was distressed. “That paper is very old and valuable, ” he declared.

Equally troubled by the loss, Nancy did not know what to say.

“Don’t you remember the contents of the message? ” she inquired.

“ ‘Course I do. That paper was found in my father’s safe when he died and I know the contents by heart. But I don’t want it to fall into the hands of a stranger! ”

“Then you believe that some other person may be interested in searching for one of those XXX bells? ”

A. H. gave her a quick, guarded look. George, who had joined the group with Bess, exclaimed impulsively, “You’re making a mistake if you don’t tell Nancy all about your paper and get her to help you! Why, she’s solved more mysteries than you could count on your fingers and toes together! ”

The man paused. His eyes sparkled as he said, “Ganging up on me, eh? You girls are three peas in a pod. Now why are you so interested in that paper? ”

“Because we like adventure, ” Bess replied.

Mr. Hendrick’s interest was aroused. He asked several questions about the detective work Nancy had done. She was uncertain whether he was joking or serious when he inquired:

“Well, how much will you charge to take my case? It’s a tough one, I warn you.”

“I solve mysteries for the fun of it, ” Nancy replied. “Suppose you tell me about your case, Mr. Hendrick.”

“Not here.”

“We might go for a walk along the beach. My friends and I have an hour off before the tearoom gets busy again.”

“Fine, ” Mr. Hendrick agreed with enthusiasm. “Come along, all of you.”

They walked a short distance down the shore, then the girls led the elderly man to a half-rotted log on which he could sit.

“To make a long story short, I’ve been interested in bells all my life, ” he began. “So was my father and his father before him. Know anything about bells? ”

“Only that they ring.” Bess giggled.

“No two ring alike. Some are high-pitched, some low, some have beautiful tone quality, and others are so harsh they insult your ears. Bells are with us from the cradle to the grave; they rejoice in our victories and toll our sorrows. They have enriched historical moments, colored romance, and struck terror in the hearts of the superstitious!

“My father was a bell maker and so was my grandfather, ” A. H. resumed proudly. “They learned the art in Europe where they had their foundry. Know how to make a big bell? ”

Nancy replied that she had only a vague idea.

“First you make a mold, and that takes a good many weeks if the bell is to be a perfect one. Then you pour in the hot, liquid metal. You have to be very careful. If the mold is not properly constructed, or you don’t wait until the metal sets properly, the bell will crack when you take it out. A large bell must be cooled for a week or two before it can be removed.”

“Tell us about American bells, ” Nancy urged, wishing to draw Mr. Hendrick into revealing more about the mystery.

“The first bell foundry in this country was established by the Hanks family, ancestors of Abraham Lincoln on his mother’s side, ” Mr. Hendrick related. “Then there was Paul Revere. After the Revolution, he built a furnace in Boston and cast small bells. He also made large ones for churches. During his lifetime he cast nigh up to two hundred bells.”

“What became of them? ” Nancy asked.

“Ah! There lies the story. Fifty were destroyed by fire, one hangs in King’s Chapel, Boston, but most of them are scattered over the country, and the folks that own ’em probably don’t realize what a treasure they possess.”

“Do you collect bells? ” Bess inquired.

“Yes, I do. I’ve toured the country up and down looking for them. Own maybe fifty bells of all types and construction. I’m always searching for Paul Revere bells but right now I’m also hoping to locate another type.”

“The XXX bell with embedded jewels? ” Nancy asked softly.

A. H. nodded. “That paper I lost was found in my father’s effects and was written by my grandfather. The bell was stolen from his foundry. I’ve spent eight years searching for that bell.”

“And you haven’t discovered any clues? ” asked George.

“I found some, but nothing came of them. My search has been interesting, though. I’ve collected other valuable bells, and I’ve met a lot of nice folks. To get them to talk, I tell them about my hunt for Paul Revere bells. Then they usually show me all the bells on the premises, most of which are worthless.”

“There’s one bell I wonder if you have seen, ” Nancy said thoughtfully. “According to some people around here, it hangs somewhere deep within Bald Head Cave.”

“Oh, I heard that story when I first came here, ” the man answered. “Nothing to it.”

“Why do you say that? ”

“Because I went there and looked around.”

“And you didn’t hear the bell? ”

“No bell rang and no ghost appeared to warn me.” A. H. chuckled. “It’s just one of those superstitious tales.”

“I can’t understand why you didn’t hear the bell, ” Nancy said, puzzled. “When my friends and I went there, we not only heard the warning bell, but we barely escaped with our lives.”

Instantly Mr. Hendrick became curious, asking many questions.

“I must go there again! ” he exclaimed. “Tomorrow, perhaps.”

“Take us with you, ” Nancy suggested. “After our experience I’m sure you shouldn’t go there alone.”

A. H. chuckled. “I can’t swim a stroke, I admit. Maybe I could use the help of three athletic girls if I should get in a tight spot with that ghost! ”

Arrangements were made to meet him the following afternoon at a boat rental dock. The girls arrived ten minutes ahead of time. Amos Hendrick soon ambled along.

“I want it thoroughly understood before we start, ” Bess announced as she climbed into the boat, “that we’re not setting foot inside the cave. It’s too dangerous! We can hear the bell without going inside! ”

“Agreed, ” said A. H. “But I warn you, if I should hear a bell ringing, no telling what I’d do.”

Nancy took the helm of the motorboat and they made a speedy trip to the foot of Bald Head Cliff. No fishermen were nearby, and the entire shore appeared to be deserted. Nancy idled the motor, allowing the boat to drift close to the shore.

“Don’t go any nearer the cave, ” Bess warned.

A. H. said nothing, but from the way he smiled the girls knew he considered them overcautious. For half an hour Nancy kept the boat hovering near the cave entrance. Nothing happened.

“I’m getting tired of waiting, ” Mr. Hendrick complained. “Why don’t we go ashore and—? ”

He broke off, listening intently. Nancy and her friends also had heard the sound. Deep within the cave a bell tolled mournfully.

“You girls were right. There is a bell! ” the old man cried excitedly. “A mighty good bell, too, with fine resonance and tone quality! ”

Forgetting the girls’ warning, he seized an oar and started paddling the motorboat into the cave.

“No! No! ” exclaimed Nancy, grabbing his arm.

“Let me go! ” A. H. insisted. “I must get that bell! ”