"Then why not stop and talk to my father? He owns the Elite Department Store and no doubt will be in his office there."

"I hope he won't think I'm prying-"

"He'd be glad to see you," Bill declared. "I'll phone him and say you're coming."

Nancy was glad that Bill Tomlin had taken her curiosity so casually. She did not want to divulge any information about the Smiths or their possible inheritance.

When Nancy finally returned to the gymnasium, several young men and girls swarmed around her. She answered their questions, giving the impression that her disappearance was nothing more than a fun adventure connected with the pantomime. Her explanation seemed to satisfy everyone and once more the party got into full swing.

In the morning Nancy was awake early, eager to start for Kirkland. To her disappointment she did not see Bill Tomlin again, but Ned brought a message from him.

"Bill says his dad will be expecting you."

"Good," said Nancy as she stepped into her car. "I've had a wonderful time, Ned. Thanks a million for everything."

"I wish you could have stayed until after lunch," he complained good-naturedly. "Please don't take any shortcuts. Stick to the main roads and you won't be kidnapped!"

"You can depend on my obeying orders, sir." Nancy laughed. "And thanks for a grand time."

The trip to Kirkland took less than an hour and Nancy was certain that she had not been followed. Without difficulty she located the Elite Department Store and in a short while was escorted to Mr. Tomlin's office.

"Good morning," Bill's father said cordially, motioning her to a chair. "I understand you're interested in the Tomlin family history."

"Yes, I am. Friends of mine are trying to trace some lost family history. May I ask you a few questions?"

"I'll do my best to answer them."

Nancy inquired about Captain Tomlin, the third in his family to follow the sea. The store owner confirmed that the man had died many years ago while on a voyage to j.a.pan.

"He was Captain John Tomlin and was a cousin of mine," he remarked. "A wonderful man. I thought a lot of him."

"Did he have a middle name?"

"I'm sure he had one but it has slipped my mind at the moment."

Nancy went on, "Your son told me he had a twin brother."

"Yes," Mr. Tomlin replied. "I don't know whether he's dead or alive."

"Did Captain John Tomlin leave a widow and children?" was Nancy's next question.

"He married but had no children to my knowledge. I've never heard what happened to his wife. She disappeared after his death."

"What was Captain Tomlin like?" Nancy queried. "Did he have any hobbies?"

"Yes, he enjoyed collecting things-rare sea sh.e.l.ls for instance. I still have one he gave me. I've kept it all these years."

Mr. Tomlin opened a desk drawer. After hunting through a pile of papers, he brought out a small colorful sea sh.e.l.l.

"This is called a Lion's Paw," he said, offering it to Nancy. "It's a type of clam found in East Indian waters. It's Latin name is Hippopus Maculatus!"

"It's very pretty! Did the captain have other hobbies?" Nancy asked.

"He was considered an authority on old songs of the sea. He could sing dozens of them."

"Then he must have had a good voice," Nancy commented. She was interested in this piece of information; it might be a clue.

Everything she had learned seemed to confirm her idea that Captain John Tomlin was Tomlin Smith's missing brother John Abner. Feeling that she owed Bill's father an explanation. for asking so many questions, she mentioned her theory to him.

"I should like to meet Tomlin Smith," he said. "I wonder if the two were identical twins."

"I don't believe so. As far as I know there is no resemblance between them."

"Somewhere at home I have a photograph of Captain Tomlin," the store owner said thoughtfully. "Would that be of any help to you?"

"Oh, yes. Mr. Smith should be able to identify the picture."

"Then I'll mail it to you if I can find it," Mr. Tomlin promised. "Just write your address on this pad."

Nancy was elated by the successful interview, feeling that she had taken a long step toward solving the mystery about the owner of the other half of the map. As she walked lightheartedly through the store toward an exit, she decided to phone Bess and went to a booth.

"Hi, Bess!" she began. "I'm on my way to Mrs. Chatham's estate, but Dad doesn't want me to go there alone. Could you and George meet me there in half an hour?"

"I'll be glad to come," Bess answered instantly. "I'll call George."

"This is what I'd like you to do for me," Nancy said. "I'm going to investigate the music studio but I don't want Mrs. Chatham to know it. Could you both keep her engaged in conversation?"

"Will do," Bess promised. "Please be careful."

After chatting for a moment longer, Nancy left the store. She drove on toward Rocky Edge, arriving ahead of her friends. As she glanced up the road, wondering how long they would be delayed, she was startled to hear a shrill scream. The cry had come from the area near the building which Trixie called Ship Cottage.

Nancy sprang from her car and dashed toward the spot. Emerging from among the oak trees, she caught a glimpse of the little girL Trixie Chatham was running away from the studio, her hair blowing wildly across her face.

"Ghosts! Ghosts!" she screamed. "I saw 'em! They're in the cottage!"

The child did not see Nancy nor hear her soothing voice as she called to the little girl. In panic Trixie scrambled through a hedge, straight into the path of an oncoming cart

CHAPTER VIII.

Nancy Investigates INSTINCTIVELY Nancy darted after the terrified child. She seized her by the hand and jerked the little girl from the roadway just as the automobile whizzed by.

"Let me go!" Trixie cried, trying to pull away. Then, seeing who her rescuer was, she relaxed slightly. "Oh, it's you," she said.

"What's the matter, Trixie?" Nancy asked gently. "You were almost run down by that car."

The little girl began to sob, her thin body shaking. While Nancy was trying to comfort her, another car approached and drew up alongside the road. George was driving; Bess sat beside her.

"What's wrong?" Bess asked, stepping from the car. "Has Trixie been hurt?"

"No, she's all right," Nancy answered, "but she had a narrow escape. Something frightened her and she ran into the path of a car."

"What was it that scared you, Trixie?" George asked.

Trixie moved nearer Nancy, away from the other two girls.

"It-it was a ghost," she answered, her voice trembling. "A great big one with horrible eyes! It glared at me from the window of the Ship Cottage!"

"Oh, Trixie, you don't really believe that!" George laughed. "There are no ghosts."

"Then what was it I saw?" the child demanded. "There's something big with horrible eyes hiding in there!"

Nancy spoke up quietly. "I'll tell you what we'll do, Trixie. You run along to the house with Bess. George and I will go to the music studio and take a look around."

"Maybe that thing will hurt you," the little girl said anxiously.

"We'll be careful. You go with Bess."

Somewhat reluctantly Trixie allowed herself to be led up the path. George and Nancy turned in the opposite direction, walking swiftly to the studio.

"Trixie didn't imagine that she saw glaring eyes watching her," Nancy declared, lowering her voice. "The first day I came here some very strange things happened while I was inside the building. That's why Dad doesn't like me to come here alone."

"You think someone may be hiding there?"

"It's possible. Before Ellen accepts work with Mrs. Chatham we must investigate this place thoroughly."

Cautiously the girls circled the quaint small building. They saw no one and heard no unusual sounds.

Nancy tried the door, expecting to walk right in as she had done the first time, but to her surprise it would not open.

"That's odd," she remarked in a puzzled tone. "The studio was unlocked when I was here before."

"Perhaps we can get in through a window," George suggested, testing one on the front of the house.

She could not raise it nor any of the others.

"I wonder if I should ask Mrs. Chatham for the key," Nancy mused. Then, answering herself, she said, "Why not? She can always refuse."

The two girls hurried to the main house, where they found Bess seated on the porch with Mrs. Chatham. Trixie was playing on the steps with a white cat and laughing shrilly at its antics.

"Can't you please be quiet?" her mother asked irritably.

"You always say that. 'Be quiet; don't do that!' If Daddy were alive, I'd have fun."

"Trixie!" Mrs. Chatham shouted. "Not another word or you'll go to your room." The child subsided into silence.

Nancy felt sorry for Trixie, knowing how upset the child had been. She was certain that Mrs. Chatham did not know about the unusual happenings at Ship Cottage. To confirm this theory, Nancy casually asked the woman who used the small house.

"Why, no one," Mrs. Chatham replied, surprised at the question.

"You never go there yourself?"

"Almost never. I've been reluctant to stir up old memories."

"You keep the studio locked, I suppose?" Nancy inquired.

"Usually I do," Mrs. Chatham replied. "For a while I left it unlocked thinking Trixie might like to play there. But she refused to step inside!"

"Did you ever ask her why she dislikes the place so much?"

"It would do no good," Mrs. Chatham said. "She has a very vivid imagination and tells outlandish stories."

Nancy was inclined to believe the woman had no idea that Trixie's misbehavior might result from a feeling of loneliness. If her mother did not believe her and the servants were not kind to her, the child did indeed need a friend. Ellen Smith could be just the person!

"You mentioned the other day that your first husband collected ship models," Nancy remarked after a moment.

"Would you like to see the collection?" Mrs. Chatham inquired politely.

"Yes, I would."

"I'll get the key," Mrs. Chatham said, rising.

Trixie remained at the house while her mother and the three girls went to the studio. The widow unlocked the front door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. The girls followed.

Nancy's eyes roved about the dusty room. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed since her last visit. There was no sign of either an intruder or an open panel in the wall.

"What charming little ships!" Bess exclaimed as she examined the model of a sailing clipper on the mantelpiece.

While her friends were talking to Mrs. Chat ham, Nancy seated herself at the piano. Hesitatingly she touched the keys. The notes sounded clear and loud, echoing in the room.

"That's certainly strange," she mused.

Turning around, she asked Mrs. Chatham if the piano had a secret spring which at times prevented it from being played.

"Goodness, no! Why do you ask?" The woman laughed. But a moment later she said, "It's possible your question may be far more to the point than I first thought. The inventor who lived here might have installed some kind of gadget."

"Then the piano was here when you took over the place?"

"Yes, it was. Nothing has been changed. In fact, this building never has been used."

"You haven't found any secret panels?" Nancy inquired eagerly.

"Not here, but there is one in my bedroom. It serves no real purpose. Once Trixie got behind it by accident, and has never wanted to come into my room since."