Nancy's Mysterious Letter Read Online Free PDF Page B

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 advertisement 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 knob 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, lass,” 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 sextant, 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 shore 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.