Free The Quest of the Missing Map by Carolyn G. Keene Page B

Chatham were winging toward New Kirk. At the end of a speedy but uneventful trip, they checked into a hotel and then proceeded to the bank.
    No sooner had they entered when Mrs. Chatham began to display signs of nervousness. While she and Nancy waited to see the president, the widow fingered the legal papers Mr. Drew had given her.
    “Now what was it your father told me to say?” she asked in panic. In the same breath she continued, “Won’t you do the talking, Nancy?”
    “I’ll be glad to if you wish, Mrs. Chatham.”
    Nancy had only a few moments to glance over the material before she and Mrs. Chatham were ushered into the private office of Mr. Dowell, the president. Nancy made a simple presentation of the case, offering proof of Mrs. Chatham’s identity. She also gave the man a letter requesting the opening of Captain John Tomlin’s safe-deposit box.
    “For a long time we’ve tried to locate Captain Tomlin or his heirs,” Mr. Dowell said. “Rentals on the box have accumulated, you know.”
    “I’ll be glad to pay whatever amount is due the bank,” Mrs. Chatham said. “May we look at the contents today?”
    “I fear that will be impossible,” the banker answered. “However, if we find your papers in good order, it’s possible the box can be opened tomorrow in the presence of someone from the surrogate’s office.”
    After making an appointment for nine o’clock the following day, Nancy and Mrs. Chatham returned to the hotel. Despite their disappointment, the two thoroughly enjoyed the evening at a fine restaurant.
    At bedtime Nancy was summoned to the telephone. Mrs. Chatham, who had been calling her home, said Ellen Smith wished to speak to her.
    “Oh, Nancy,” Ellen said in a strained voice, “please don’t stay away any longer than you have to. I didn’t want to frighten Mrs. Chatham, but her place is terribly spooky, with creepy shadows in the garden. Twice I’ve called to the guards but no one answered. I don’t believe they’re even on duty.”
    For the sake of Mrs. Chatham, Nancy kept calm. “Ellen, why don’t you ask Hannah Gruen to come over? Dad has to be away tonight and tomorrow, I know, so she’s alone. Please do that.”
    The girl promised, relief in her voice. Nancy went to bed but found it hard to sleep and was awake early. She hoped Mrs. Chatham’s business could be attended to at once and an early return made to River Heights. When the two reached the bank, Mr. Dowell greeted them cordially and presented an official from the surrogate’s office.
    “The box will be opened without further delay,” he assured them. “I’ve arranged for an inheritance tax man to be here this morning. He’ll list the contents for tax purposes.”
    He personally conducted Nancy and Mrs. Chatham to an underground room and sat at one end of a long table.
    The tax official directed Nancy and Mrs. Chatham to sit at the far end of the table. Then he and the bank official sat down with the box before them. As the government man raised the lid, the bulky papers that filled the box crackled. He picked up the top envelope and exclaimed, “Hm! What’s this?... ‘Clue to a Treasure’!”

CHAPTER XII
    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