At least I have a sketch of the intruder’s footprints,” Nancy said to herself

She closed the secret door and scurried into the studio. Ten minutes later Mrs. Chatham arrived with a supply of umbrellas, but insisted that the girls stay at the cottage to see the police. Presently their car pulled up in front.

The two officers questioned Mrs. Chatham and the girls regarding the trespasser. Unfortunately George’s description of him was sketchy. The only tangible clue was the footprint which Nancy had made.

“This should be of some use to us, ” one of the policemen declared, pocketing the drawing.

Before leaving, the officers inspected the hidden chamber. Mrs. Chatham readily identified many of the articles as the property of her first husband. Some she did not recognize but assumed they must have also belonged to him.

After the police had gone, Nancy asked thoughtfully, “Is it possible that Mr. Chatham knew of this hiding place and stored goods here without your knowledge? ”

“Yes, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t have told me.” Mrs. Chatham paused. “Oh, I do hope nothing of John’s has been stolen. It would break my heart to lose anything belonging to him.”

Tears glistened in her eyes as she lifted a miniature ship, similar to those which the girls had seen in the studio room. For the first time Nancy felt herself warming to Mrs. Chatham. No doubt her strange actions resulted from grief and loneliness.

The question that troubled Nancy most was, Who was the mysterious fugitive and was he hiding loot on the premises or taking articles away?

“But how did he learn of this place? ” she wondered.

As Nancy mulled over the matter, she absently raised the lid of a leather-covered box. She stared in surprise and delight. Inside, carefully wrapped in tissue paper, were many large, rare sea shells.

“Mrs. Chatham, did your first husband collect these? ” she asked breathlessly.

“Yes, he did. He loved the sea and everything connected with it.”

“You never mentioned your first husband’s last name, ” Nancy said, waiting eagerly for the answer.

“Why, I thought I did. His name was Tomlin—John Tomlin.”

“Tomlin! ” Nancy could hardly believe her ears. “Then he may be related to Tomlin Smith! ” she added, her eyes dancing with excitement.

“Tomlin Smith? ” the widow repeated. “Who is he, may I ask? ”

“Ellen’s father! Mrs. Chatham, do you have a photograph of John Tomlin? ”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Nancy revealed everything she knew about Mr. Smith’s quest for his missing twin brother but did not mention the map. She also related the story she had heard from Bill Tomlin’s father.

“My husband had a fine baritone voice, ” Mrs. Chatham declared. “He loved songs of the sea and collected them.”

“Everything tallies with the information given me by Bill Tomlin’s father! Without question your first husband was related to the Tomlin family in Kirkland. The two men were cousins. Now if only I can prove a relationship to Tomlin Smith! Did your husband have a middle name? ”

“If so, he didn’t mention it. At no time did my husband tell me much about his early life, ” Mrs. Chatham added.

“He never spoke of his father? ” Nancy asked, fingering a large pink shell.

“No. You see, we were married after knowing each other only two weeks. John settled me in a lovely little cottage, furnished it beautifully, and then set sail but he did not return.”

“Was his ship lost? ” Bess inquired sympathetically.

“My husband was taken ill and died on a voyage to Japan, ” Mrs. Chatham explained, her eyes misty.

The widow revealed a few additional facts but none of great value. Her husband, she said, had been ten years older than she and frequently had spoken of himself as a “son of the sea.”

“That might mean his father had been a captain too, ” Nancy mused. “Tell me, Mrs. Chatham, did your first husband leave any papers or letters? ”

“Several boxes were brought to me some time after his death. I received a small amount of money and an insurance policy. I’ll confess I read very few of the letters, for they seemed to be old business ones and I wasn’t interested. I was too heart-broken to care. But I saved every one of them. They should be somewhere in this studio. I asked Mr. Chatham to bring them here.”

“I’ll look right—”

At that instant a fearful shriek cut the air. The group was electrified for an instant, then Nancy made a dash outside.

“Moth-er! ” came in terrified tones from somewhere to the right.

“Trixie! ”

Nancy dashed off, with Mrs. Chatham, Bess and George close on her heels.

“Where are you? ” the child’s mother called.

There was no answer!

Frantically the group ran to left and to right, shouting Trixie’s name. Suddenly a muffled sound reached Nancy’s ears. She stopped short to listen.

The child was crying and saying, “I want to get out! I want to get out! ”

Almost directly in front of her Nancy saw a yawning hole in the ground. She peered down. Indistinctly she could see a figure.

“Trixie! ” Nancy gasped. “Are you hurt? ”

“I’m okay. Where’s my m-mother? ” came the sobbing voice from below. “Please h-help me out! ”

The child had fallen into a dry wellhole.

Nancy lay down on the ground and stretched one arm into the chasm. She could not reach Trixie.

“I’ll get a ladder, ” Nancy said reassuringly. “Don’t be frightened.”

By this time the others had come up. Mrs. Chatham, hearing that her daughter was unharmed, alternately laughed and cried. In a few minutes George located the gardener and he brought a long ladder.

“I want Nancy Drew to come down, ” called Trixie as the man started to descend.

“Nancy, do you mind? ” Mrs. Chatham asked.

“Not at all.”

As Nancy began the climb, the woman snapped at the gardener, “Hoskins, how do you account for this uncovered hole? You are supposed to have charge of the grounds.”

“Mrs. Chatham, I had no idea this hole was here. Probably it was grown over and—”

Nancy heard no more for she had reached the bottom rung. Trixie, her knees slightly scratched, impulsively hugged her rescuer and scrambled up the ladder. Nancy quickly glanced about. To her right was an opening to a tunnel. The young sleuth wanted to investigate it but decided that right now she had better hurry to the top of the well. Mrs. Chatham stood there hugging her daughter.

Nancy said mysteriously to Bess and George, “Very interesting place down there. I’ll be back in a minute.” She headed for her car. When Nancy returned, she held her flashlight.

Bess shook her head. “Don’t tell me you’ve found something in that hole! ”

“Uh-huh. Want to come along? ”

“George, you go, ” Bess shivered in reply.

Excited over this latest development, George followed her friend into the dark pit. Nancy swung the beam of her light around the opening of the cavern. It was fairly wide and about six feet high. Cautiously the girls walked in for several feet to a point where the tunnel turned abruptly. As Nancy’s light exposed the cavern beyond, they stared open-mouthed. Across one wall and on the ceiling flickered the shadow of a weird, forbidding shape.