Mystery Of The Tolling Bell Part 2

"I'm afraid I was gypped," she said. "This isn't as good as the sample."

"It's fragrant, anyway," Nancy remarked as Bess held the bottle under her friend's nose.

Then George sniffed at the bottle. "Take my advice and throw it away."

"And waste all my money?" Bess recorked the bottle. "No. I'll keep it."

The road no longer offered the monotonous scenery it had on the other side of Fisher's Cove. Instead it ran lazily along moors carpeted with low-growing juniper, and at points the rocks split into colorful ma.s.ses over which the sea's filmy spray leaped playfully.

"We're not far from Candleton now," Nancy declared as cliffs loomed in the distance.

The car rounded a sharp bend, and the girls caught their first glimpse of White Cap Bay. Never before had they seen such a stretch of beautiful water. Once only a fis.h.i.+ng town, the little village of Candleton was now a fas.h.i.+onable summer resort with gleaming white cottages and fine hotels.

Mrs. Chantrey's attractive home stood some distance from the beach, just beyond the business section of the town. Nancy pulled to a stop in front of the house.

A woman about fifty opened the door, and smilingly said that she was June Barber and lived with Mrs. Chantrey. She helped the girls carry their luggage to the guest room, and explained that her friend was at the tearoom. Mrs. Chantrey had left word that the visitors were to make themselves at home.

"Has my father arrived?" Nancy asked.

"Not yet," June replied.

"I guess he was delayed," said Nancy, hoping that nothing was wrong.

"Let's go down to the tearoom," George suggested.

The girls quickly changed their clothes and set out, taking a short cut that led directly to the beach. Wandering slowly along the waterfront, they saw many old-time fishermen's houses which had been converted into artists' studios. Men and women sat in the dazzling sunlight, sketching the boats which lay at anchor in the bay.

"What can the mystery be that's disturbing Candleton?" Nancy mused. "Everything seems very peaceful here."

"Yes, it does," Bess agreed.

Presently the girls saw Mrs. Chantrey's tearoom, the Salsandee Shop. Bright-colored umbrellas dotted its outdoor dining area and garden. Every chair was taken.

"What a clever name Salsandee is!" Bess observed, after Nancy explained the tearoom specialized in salads and sandwiches. "What does the 'dee' stand for?"

"I don't know. We'll have to ask Mrs. Chantrey."

The girls went inside. They were delighted by the cozy decor and the beautiful flower candles on the tables. The room was just as crowded as the garden.

A hara.s.sed waitress moved swiftly about, trying to take a dozen orders. Nervous and confused, she showed her annoyance as Nancy stopped her to inquire for Mrs. Chantrey.

"She's in the kitchen," the girl replied, "but please don't bother her now unless it's important. Two of our girls failed to show up today, and we're nearly frantic trying to serve everyone."

"Why don't we pitch in and help?" Nancy suggested to her friends. "We've waited on tables before! "

"It would be fun!" agreed George.

In the kitchen, they found their hostess frantically making dozens of salads. Mrs. Chantrey, a woman in her mid-forties, was ordinarily a serene and well-groomed person. Now a wisp of gray hair tumbled down over one eye, and a splotch of salad dressing stained her ap.r.o.n.

"h.e.l.lo," Nancy said cheerfully. "Do you need any help?"

Mrs. Chantrey dropped a knife. Her face mirrored dismay. "Why, it's Nancy Drew, and these are your friends!" she gasped. "How ashamed I am to be found in such a state!"

"You need help and we're here to give it," Nancy said with a smile. "Just tell us what to do."

"I can't put you girls to work the first moment you arrive! Why, you're my guests!"

"We'd like to do it," Bess spoke up.

"Then I won't protest any longer. You're a gift straight from heaven! If you can help out for an hour, the worst of the evening rush will be over."

Chatting excitedly, Mrs. Chantrey tied ap.r.o.ns on the three girls. While George remained in the kitchen to make sandwiches, Nancy and Bess were sent to wait on tables. They went to Dora, the waitress they had met a few minutes earlier, and requested instructions.

"You take the tables out in the garden," the girl directed Nancy. "Bess and I will handle the inside dining room. Here are your order pads. Don't try to carry too many dishes or you may have an accident."

"Waitress!" called an impatient voice.

"Everyone is in a dreadful mood," Dora whispered. "Some have been waiting nearly an hour for their food."

Nancy moved swiftly among the tables a.s.signed to her. She took orders efficiently, learning the names of the dishes which made the Salsandee Shop so popular, including the Dandee Tart, filled with steaming hot fish pudding topped with salmon-colored meringue. The girls learned that the last syllable of the name Salsandee was derived from the "dee" in Dandee.

Customers, at first impatient and cross, soon began to smile. One of the last diners in the garden was a white-haired man with spectacles. He dawdled over a frosted gla.s.s of iced tea. Nancy hovered near, hopeful that he would leave, but instead he became talkative.

"Do you live here?" he inquired.

"No, I'm just a visitor, helping out," Nancy explained. "Actually I'm not a waitress."

"Well, I'm a stranger to this town myself. Came here looking for a bell."

Nancy remained politely silent.

"Not an ordinary bell, but one that was made in a casting furnace in Boston during the Revolutionary War. A Paul Revere bell-that's what I'm after."

"Are you an antique collector?" Nancy asked, becoming interested.

"Not exactly.Although, of course, old bells are valuable as antiques." The man gazed at her with shrewd eyes. "They tell me there are any number of old bells to be had around this town."

"I wouldn't know about that," Nancy replied. "I arrived here only a few hours ago."

"I see, I see," muttered the stranger. He finished his iced tea, left a coin by his plate, then went down the path toward the ocean.

While thinking about her conversation with the man, Nancy began to clear away the dishes. She dropped the coin into her pocket, intending to give it and the other tips to Dora.

As Nancy picked up a plate, she noticed a folded piece of paper on the ground at her feet and brushed it aside. Then the thought struck her that the paper might be important. Perhaps the diner who had just left the garden had dropped it.

Nancy picked up the paper. The handwriting on it was very old-fas.h.i.+oned. A puzzled look came over the young detective's face as she read the words, which were in French.

"Whoever finds this May become enormously wealthy," she translated in amazement. "In one of my x.x.x cast bells are embedded many jewels."