As Mr. Whittier went to a room at the rear of the shop, he called out, "You caught me at a good time. I'm not particularly busy now. Make yourself comfortable."

While waiting, Nancy looked at the large a.s.sortment of rings, bracelets, pins, and other bits of jewelry in the display cases. How beautiful they all were!

Time pa.s.sed quickly and soon the jeweler returned. He showed Nancy that the clasp worked perfectly now.

As he was wrapping it for her, Mr. Whittier said, "How did you like your beautiful new pin?"

"Pin?" Nancy repeated. "What pin?"

"The one that man got for you yesterday. He said he was going to give it to you right away."

Nancy was puzzled. What man was going to give her a pin?

CHATTER. VI.

A Good Lead

"You look surprised," said Mr. Whittier. "I guess I gave away a secret."

"Oh, it's all right," Nancy a.s.sured him without divulging what was racing through her mind. The pin might be going to Nancy Smith Drew and here was her chance to find the heiress!

Nancy did not reveal her thoughts, however. Smiling, she said, "I must confess I haven't the least idea who might be giving me a pin, but it sounds exciting. I don't suppose you want to tell me who he is?"

The jeweler sighed. "I've told so much already I guess it won't matter. He said his name was Mr. Nixon and that he is from out of town."

Nancy was startled. Was he Edgar Nixon? Was he a friend of the heiress or of some other Nancy Drew?

"Maybe Edgar Nixon is going to give the pin to me, but there'll be some trick to it if he does," Nancy decided.

Mr. Whittier looked at her quizzically. "You seem kind of worried," he remarked. "I'm sorry I said anything. And please, when Mr. Nixon hands you the pin, don't let on I gave away a secret."

Nancy a.s.sured him she would not.

Suddenly she smiled. "If this man is the person I think he is, he's related to someone I know very well. Would you mind telling me what he looks like?"

"Well, he's kind of handsome you might say," Mr. Whittier replied. "Very thin and dark."

"What was he wearing?" Nancy asked.

She was not surprised to learn that the purchaser of the pin had worn a camel's-hair coat and hat. In her mind this settled it. The buyer was indeed Edgar Nixon. But where did she possibly fit into the picture?

Mr. Whittier handed Nancy the necklace. "Come in again soon," he invited her. "I'll have all my Christmas things on display next week."

His suggestion gave Nancy an idea. Recalling a remark her father had made, she said, "Mr. Whittier, in a magazine advertis.e.m.e.nt I saw a special kind of cuff links I know my dad would like. They were large gold squares and had diagonal stripes of black across them. I'd like a set to give Dad for Christmas."

"I know the pattern well," said Mr. Whittier. "I'll order a pair if you like."

"Please do, and let me know when they come in."

"Speaking of cuff links," said the jeweler, "Mr. Nixon bought a pair for himself. Kind of flashy but he seemed to like them. They were bright red and had a black star in the center."

Instantly Nancy thought what an excellent identification this was. Aloud she said, "I don't think I'd care for them myself."

Shortly thereafter, Nancy left the shop and walked to her convertible, deep in thought. She had just picked up two good leads!

Nancy went directly to the Skeets's home on Cottage Street. Although it was not far from the Drews', she had never been in this particular area. The houses were rather shabby, many of them needing paint, but they were neat and the windows glistened. The small lawns in front of them were well kept. Nancy drove slowly until she came to number twenty-two.

The bell k.n.o.b on the seaman's cottage door was brightly polished. In answer to Nancy's ring, the door was opened by a grizzled, elderly man.

"Howdy," he said, smiling affably. "We don't want to subscribe to any magazines, thanky."

"I'm not selling anything." Nancy laughed. "I came to see Mrs. Skeets."

"Well, she hoisted anchor here about an hour ago," he said. "I expect she just rode around to the chandler for some supplies and most likely she'll be back by six bells."

Nancy grinned. "You mean eleven o'clock, Mr. Skeets?"

"Call me Sailor Joe like the rest of the folks." He grinned broadly. "Yes, miss. Six bells on a ship is 'leven o'clock."

"Then your wife will be back very soon," Nancy said, glancing at her wrist watch. "May I wait?"

"Heave your anchor, la.s.s," Joe said. "Come into the parlor."

Chuckling, he led Nancy into the living room. It was papered in deep red and furnished in a variety of shabby furniture. On the walls were pictures of ships, a broken but highly polished s.e.xtant, a lethal-looking spear, and a large dried starfish.

Nancy sat down on a couch and remarked, "Sailing all over the world, you must have seen many interesting things, Mr. Skeets."

"Aye, and so I have." Sailor Joe grinned, settling himself in a captain's chair. "Why, a funny thing happened to me one time when I had sh.o.r.e leave in Melbourne, Australia. For fun I told one of the dockhands I was a pearl diver. And me not being able to swim a stroke. That night after

I'd gone to sleep, somebody came and carried me away. Next thing I knew I'd been shanghied onto a boat that was really going pearl diving."

Sailor Joe laughed uproariously. Nancy wondered what was so funny about this. Instead, it seemed tragic.

"I see you don't understand the joke," the old salt went on. "You see where I was brought up us sailors meant washin' dishes when we said pearl divin'." The old man rocked with laughter and slapped his knees with great calloused hands. Nancy laughed too but did not want Joe to get started on another one of his sea yarns. She was eager to ask him some questions before his wife returned.

"How long have you lived here?" she asked.

"Maybe a year, maybe two," Joe said. "My old woman moved out here so I'd be far from the sea and maybe stay home more. But I could smell salt water if I was in the middle of a desert! Speaking of deserts, I must tell you-"

Nancy interrupted quickly. "Did you ever know a young woman by the name of Nancy Drew?"

"Nancy Drew? Well, I'll say I did, and a trim little figurehead she was, and as neat as an admiral's cutter. Did you know her?"

Nancy shook her head. "I'm trying to locate a Nancy Smith Drew who's wanted in England," she said.

Sailor Joe whistled "Wanted in England, is she? And for what? That girl never did a wrong thing in her life."