Mystery of the Tolling Bell

  “You mean before the tide is very high on the White Cap Bay side?” George asked.

  “Yes. You recall that when we heard the bell toll, the tide had not turned in the bay.”

  “There may be something to it, Nancy,” George agreed. “But what about the tolling bell?”

  “I’ll know more after I’ve made my investigation. Come on! The tide is starting to come in. There’s no time to lose.”

  The girls hurried to the motorboat and in a short time rounded the cliff into the ocean.

  “Be careful,” Bess urged Nancy.

  Nancy made a clean dive out of the boat, swam off, and easily reached the shore. Because the rocks were sharp, she put on her beach shoes which she had tied around her neck. Clinging tightly to precarious holds, she began to climb. By now the tide was coming in fast.

  “The tunnel should be here somewhere,” the young detective thought. “I’ll have to work quickly to find it.”

  Nancy moved toward a pile of debris deposited by the incoming waves. She crossed this and went toward a definite opening in the rocks. Then suddenly she heard a shout.

  Pausing, Nancy glanced toward a ledge where a fisherman was motioning frantically to her. His words sounded like “High tide!” but she did not catch the rest, because the wind was blowing away from her.

  Nancy hesitated, then advanced again in her search for an opening amid the rocks.

  “Quick!” the fisherman shouted. “Help!”

  Now Nancy realized the man was in trouble. Approaching the ledge, she saw that his right leg was pinned beneath a large rock.

  Unless the leg could be freed, Nancy knew, the man would drown in the incoming tidel

  CHAPTER XVI

  The Telescope Spy

  As Nancy rushed to his side, the fisherman gasped, “I’m stuck! Loose boulder fell. Got to lift it—tide coming in!”

  Nancy looked about for the boat, hoping to call to Bess and George for assistance. But the craft was too far away to signal it.

  With a few quiet words Nancy tried to encourage the frantic man. Then she began to tug on the boulder. It moved slightly.

  “If you can help me lift this,” Nancy directed, “we’ll have you free in no time. Together now—one, two, three—heave!”

  The fisherman struggled to lift, but his position made it difficult for him to apply any leverage to the weight on his leg. As he strained, Nancy began to fear that he lacked the strength for the task.

  The onrushing tide was already drenching them both. It would be only minutes before the ledge would be completely engulfed.

  “Try again!” Nancy urged. “When we lift the boulder, pull your leg out.”

  With one last effort the fisherman was able to help Nancy raise the heavy stone, and managed to free himself.

  “Hurry!” Nancy cried as she assisted him to his feet.

  She took his hand and pulled him along over the ledge to the safety of higher ground. Both were breathless, and so shattered by the narrow escape that for a few moments they could not speak.

  Then the fisherman said, “I’m mighty grateful you came along! You saved my life!”

  “I’m glad I could help,” Nancy replied modestly.

  “Fishing is my business,” the man began, after introducing himself as Steve Hopkins. “I know these ledges—except, of course, for that loose boulder that cost me a good rod and several worrisome minutes.”

  He smiled sheepishly, then turned to Nancy with a frown. “But you never should have been fooling around down there! More than one person’s been drowned when the tide comes in!”

  “I knew what I was doing,” Nancy defended her actions. “I came here searching for an opening in the rocks. I know about the cave with its tolling bell and rushing water. I thought I could find an explanation for them over here. The tide wouldn’t have been in for at least ten minutes.”

  “I guess maybe that’s so,” the man admitted. “But around these here parts you never can tell what may happen. You say you were trying to find a hole in the rocks?”

  Nancy explained her belief that strong waves, dashing through a small opening, might be responsible for the rush of water through the big cave.

  “Could be,” Hopkins agreed. “But I’ve lived in these parts for well onto sixty years. I’ve never heard tell of any such hole in the rocks.”

  “Did you ever see the ghost or hear the bell?” Nancy asked.

  “I’ve never seen the ghost, and don’t want to. But I’ve heard that mournful bell,” Hopkins replied. “Folks figure that the spirit of the young man who joined the pirates comes back to prowl in that cave. They think the bell is the one he had on his dory.”

  “A boat with a bell on it might be caught somewhere in the cave,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “Has anyone ever investigated to find out?”

  “Folks hereabouts got too much common sense. Anyway, what good would it do for a body to go in there and fetch the bell? Long as it tolls a warning, it keeps a lot of people out of trouble.”

  Nancy talked a while longer with the fisherman, but soon was convinced he could contribute nothing to a solution of the baffling mystery. “I’d better go meet my friends on the bay side now,” she said.

  “I’ll show you a safe path to it,” Hopkins said. After thanking Nancy again for his rescue, he pointed out a well-worn trail which she followed without difficulty.

  Reaching the beach, Nancy saw George and Bess waiting for her a hundred yards from shore. She knotted her shoes about her neck, then plunged in and swam out to the boat.

  “What happened at the mouth of the cave?” Nancy asked as soon as she was in the boat. “Did the bell toll?”

  “Exactly on the hour,” George replied. “We didn’t see the ghost, but the water did rush from the cave the same as before.”

  “Then I’m sure I’m right,” Nancy said excitedly. “By the way, I was just going toward what looked like an opening in the rocks when a fisherman signaled me for help.”

  After relating her experience and her conversation with Steve Hopkins, Nancy said she thought it possible that an old, wrecked boat with a bell attached might be lodged somewhere deep within the cave.

  “You mean when the water comes through, it makes the bell ring?” Bess asked. “But, Nancy, how do you explain the ghost?”

  “So far, I can’t. Someone must be putting on a ghost act. But where does he come from and where does he go? Frankly, I can’t guess what reason a person would have for hiding there or dressing up in white robes. The only way to solve the mystery is by thoroughly investigating the cave.”

  “Not today!” Bess said emphatically.

  Nancy smiled as she turned to start the motor of the boat. “No, I promised Dad and Mrs. Chantrey I wouldn’t venture in there even at low tide. But that promise certainly hinders me.”

  “It may save your life, though,” declared George. “This is one mystery I feel we should leave unsolved!”

  Nancy did not debate the matter. Her silence as the trio returned to Candleton told Bess and George more clearly than words that their detective friend did not have the slightest intention of abandoning the enigma of the tolling-bell cave.

  Nancy had no opportunity to discuss the day’s events with her father. On reaching the Chantrey cottage, she learned that he had sent word he planned to remain another day in Yorktown.

  “That means he must have unearthed some interesting clues!” Nancy thought. “Perhaps the police have traced those swindlers we’re after!”

  At Nancy’s suggestion the three girls spent the evening at the Salsandee Shop, assisting their hostess. While George and Bess helped prepare Dandee Tarts, Nancy waited on tables, hoping she might see Amos Hendrick again. She regretted having forgotten to ask him where he was staying. But the man did not dine there that evening.

  Among the customers she saw the same dwarflike stranger who made a practice of taking food when he left. He ate rapidly, with a display of very bad table manners. When he finished, he ordered the usua
l package of food, then departed. Though Nancy questioned several of the waitresses, no one could tell her the man’s name nor where he lived.

  “I’ve certainly seen that man somewhere besides here,” she remarked. “It wasn’t in a theater, yet he seems unnatural, like someone acting a part.”

  “He reminds me of an elf,” one of the waitresses said. “Only he has such mean, cruel eyes!”

  “An elf!” exclaimed Nancy. “Why, that’s itl I mean,” she added hastily, “he does have that appearance.”

  The waitress’ words had recalled to Nancy the strange dream she had experienced last week on the cliff above Bald Head Cave. In a flash she knew that the characters in her dream were not visionary but actual persons! Had she identified one of the elves?

  “I didn’t walk from the cliff by myself,” Nancy thought excitedly. “As Ned surmised, I was carried by two men. But why?”

  Realizing that such a theory might sound fantastic to the others, she was careful to say nothing about it, not even to Bess or George. But she was determined to learn more about the stranger.

  Hoping that he might lunch at the Salsandee Shop, she made a point of working there the next day. The man did not come, but to her delight, Amos Hendrick strolled into the tearoom.

  “Well, well, my favorite waitress again!” He greeted her, then made a startling remark. “You bring a fellow bad luck, though!”

  “How do you mean, Mr. Hendrick?”

  “A. H., if you please,” he corrected her. “Remember that man I was telling you about who was going to sell me a bell?”

  “You mean the one you met on the other side of the bay—a Mr. James?”

  “I haven’t seen him since, and he was going to bring the bell for me to look at,” A. H. reported. “Now I’m afraid maybe I’ll never see him again, and I believe he has something I’ve been hunting for all over the country.”

  “Not the jeweled bell?” Nancy asked excitedly.

  “Mr. James didn’t tell me much, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it might be,” Mr. Hendrick confided.

  Nancy was startled at the information. She felt certain that Mr. James, alias Harry Tyrox, had not obtained the jeweled bell by honest means. Perhaps he did not even have it, but knew where it was and was trying to get hold of it. This might account for his not contacting A. H. again.

  “Unless the reason is that he has left this part of the country permanently,” she thought.

  Nancy hoped this was not so, and asked the bell collector to let her know the minute he heard from Mr. James. Then she inquired what kind of a tone the jeweled bell had.

  “Oh, a very pleasant musical sound, almost like one in the middle register of a set of chimes.”

  “Then your lost bell couldn’t possibly be the one in Bald Head Cave?”

  “Oh, no, that one has a deep tolling sound.” A. H.’s eyes brightened. “I’d give a lot to get my hands on it just the same,” he declared, “but I value my life too much. Can’t figure a way to keep from drowning, or you can bet your last dollar I’d be inside that cave this minute!”

  “Perhaps I can help you,” Nancy said.

  While Mr. Hendrick listened with rapt attention, she told him of her theory that the cave was flooded for only a few hours each day, and that the period of danger could be clocked accurately.

  “Say! Maybe I’ll go there sometime!” the man exclaimed. “You really think it’s safe?”

  “I have an idea that if a person doesn’t venture into the cave after the tide has started to come in, he won’t be trapped by the rushing water. I’ll let you know later.”

  Because Mr. Hendrick was so pleased at the information she had given him, he talked more freely while he ate his lunch. As she served his dessert, he surprised her by saying:

  “I’ve been thinking things over since I’ve been sitting here. I have a hunch that man James may be mixed up with the thief who has the jeweled bell.”

  “What makes you think that?” Nancy asked, trying not to show her eagefness to hear his an swer.

  “Didn’t I tell you I traced it to a son of the original thief? His name is Grumper. He’s an ornery little fellow—extraordinarily short. Haven’t actually seen him, but I’ve been told he’s around here.”

  “You think Grumper still has the bell after all these years? Wouldn’t he have been tempted to sell it, or at least the jewels?”

  “Not Grumper. He’s a strange sort of man, not much concerned with money. They tell me chemistry is his main interest in life. He got into a jam with the company where he worked, and disappeared. I’ve good reason to think he’s skulking around here somewhere.”

  “How did you learn Grumper had the bell?” Nancy asked curiously.

  “From that note found in my father’s possessions. You saw only part of the message.”

  Nancy would have asked Mr. Hendrick more questions, and found out his address, but just then another customer sat down at a nearby table. A. H. immediately became silent. He left the tearoom before the young detective had an opportunity to talk with him again.

  Later that day she and Ned went to the boat dock with the intention of renting a motorboat to do some further exploring at Bald Head Cave. There they learned that Amos Hendrick had taken a boat and gone alone to the cave.

  “He may get into trouble there!” Nancy said anxiously. “I should have warned him not to enter the cave until I’ve had a chance to prove my theory about the tides. If I’m wrong, he may drown!”

  “Then we must go after him, and we’ve no time to lose!” Ned declared.

  When he and Nancy reached the base of Bald Head Cliff in the motorboat, they could find no trace of A. H. Had he ventured into the cave?

  “Say, who is that up there on the cliff?” Ned asked suddenly. He pointed to a figure seated on the high rocks, peering intently at the couple through a telescope. He was not Mr. Hendrick, as George had thought when she and her friends had seen a man on the cliff with a telescope.

  “He certainly looks familiar, though,” Nancy remarked. “Why is he watching us?”

  Her attention was distracted by a flash of white near the cave entrance. Distinctly she saw a ghostly figure retreat into its dark interior. Within a few minutes a bell from within started to toll.

  CHAPTER XVII

  Important Identification

  “THE warning!” Nancy exclaimed. “Oh, what if A. H. is inside the cave!”

  “If he is,” Ned said grimly, “we’re too late to save him!”

  Fearfully he and Nancy watched as water began to boil from the entrance. A box floated clear, but to their relief, no body or overturned boat was washed from the cave.

  Convinced that A. H. could not have been drowned by the rushing water, Nancy sighed in relief.

  “Let’s climb the cliff,” she suggested, “and talk to the man with the telescope. He may be able to answer a lot of questions about this place.”

  Ned anchored the boat, and the couple waded ashore. They climbed the rocks, using the path up which Nancy had gone before. But when they reached the top, the man had disappeared. They walked around a while, and peered into the cottage, but he did not return.

  “Show me the place where you went to sleep that time,” Ned suggested.

  Nancy ran ahead, searching for the exact spot. When she thought she had located it, the young detective waited for Ned. Presently she began to feel dizzy. The blue sky above became misty, as if a film had dropped over her eyes. Vaguely she recalled that the same symptoms had overtaken her the first day she had visited the cliff.

  “Ned!” she called in a weak voice. “Ned!”

  He ran quickly toward her. One glance at Nancy’s face told him something was seriously wrong.

  “It’s probably the climb,” he said solicitously. “I’ll carry you to the beach and you’ll feel okay.”

  He lifted her from the ground and worked his way down the steep slope. By the time they reached the beach, Nancy seemed better.

  “I don’t know w
hat came over me,” she apologized, deeply embarrassed. “I’ve never had spells like this before!”

  Ned insisted upon their going home at once so she could rest. But after he had left Mrs. Chantrey’s, Nancy subjected herself to a severe athletic test. She raced up- and downstairs four times without pausing. George and Bess, who entered the house, stared at her in amazement.

  “I’m not crazy!” Nancy said, laughing. “I’m only trying to determine if I get fainting or dizzy spells after strenuous exertion.”

  “You could be a star athlete!” George retorted. ”Why, you’re not even breathing very hard.”

  “I feel fine!” Nancy laughed. “This test certainly proves I’m all right. But there was something queer about the way I nearly fainted today while on Bald Head Cliff! When I was up there I became very drowsy—almost as if I’d been drugged!”

  “Have you any theory about it?” George asked.

  “Do you suppose,” Nancy said, “that some gas could have escaped from crevices in the rocks where I was standing?”

  “Did you smell anything unusual?” Bess put in.

  Nancy said she had not noted any strange odor other than a sweet one like that of the wild flowers on the cliff.

  Later that afternoon, at Nancy’s suggestion, the three girls called upon Mother Mathilda.

  “I want to ask her if she knows anything about the cliff that might throw some light on my experience,” she said.

  To the disappointment of Nancy and her friends the woman could offer no explanation. So far as she knew, no gases or fumes had ever exuded from crevices in the rocks.

  “I’m glad you dropped in,” the elderly candlemaker said. “When you were here the other day, I forgot to tell you about Amy Maguire.”

  “You mean the daughter of the Maguires who lived on the cliff?” Nancy inquired.

  “Yes. She was an adopted daughter. Amy turned out to be a wild one. As long as Grandpa Maguire was alive she behaved herself pretty well. After his passing, she made her Ma a heap o’ trouble, running off to marry a no-good.”

  “Someone you know?”