Contents
____________________________________________________________
1 Total Darkness
2 A Secret Compartment
3 Mystery Lady
4 Disaster before Dinner
5 A Wild Accusation
6 Sneak Thief
7 Skeleton with a Message
8 A Terrifying Call
9 Danger on the Bridge
10 Surprise at the Door
11 Crazy Horse
12 Clued In
13 A Ghostly Welcome
14 Terror on the Lake
15 Birds of a Feather
1. Total Darkness
“All aboard!” the train conductor shouted. “Chicago to
New York City—and all stops in between!”
Nancy Drew and her father, Carson, stepped up
their pace as Carson pushed a trolley laden with lug-
gage along the crowded platform of the cavernous
station. Nancy's best friends, George Fayne and Bess
Marvin, hurried to keep up.
“Will we make it?” Bess asked Nancy as the train
whistle shrilled through the humid air.
“I think so, Bess,” Nancy said, “though I can't pre-
dict whether all four of your suitcases will get on before
the doors close.”
“Don't say that!” Bess moaned. “I need them. We'll
be in New York a whole week, and the party that
Delphinia's planning sounds awesome.”
“This is all I brought,” George declared as she
stepped up to her friends. She patted the straps of a
large backpack slung over her shoulders.
“Don't tell me your dress for Delphinia's big dinner
event is crumpled up in there,” Bess said, looking
horrified.
“Not crumpled—rolled,” George countered. “It's
made out of some nonwrinkling material—ideal for
travel-by-backpack,” she quipped, in the tone of a
commercial. “Though I probably should have packed
an extra pair of sneakers for sightseeing.”
“Sightseeing? As in checking out cool shops and
restaurants?” Bess asked mischievously.
“No way. Sightseeing, as in visiting the Museum of
Natural History and hiking across the Brooklyn
Bridge,” George retorted with a toss of her short dark
hair.
Bess made a face. “Sounds like torture. All the sights
I'm interested in seeing can be found in
Bloomingdale's. And you don't need sneakers for that.”
Eighteen-year-old Nancy grinned at her friends'
remarks. Bess and George were first cousins and
devoted friends, but they were also total opposites.
Blond-haired Bess loved clothes, high-calorie desserts,
and boy watching, while George's interests ran more to
athletics. Nancy knew that planning activities in the Big
Apple to interest both girls would be complicated.
“Is this a sleeping car?” Nancy's father asked a con-
ductor standing next to a car with high, wide windows.
“Indeed it is,” the conductor declared. “May I see
your tickets, please?”
“I've got them, Dad,” Nancy said, reaching into her
purse. She handed three tickets to the conductor.
“Miss Drew, Miss Fayne, and Miss Marvin,” the
conductor said as he examined the tickets. “You've
come to the right car, ladies. Compartment Twenty-
three B. Step lively, please. The train leaves in exactly
three minutes.”
“Why don't I help you girls load this stuff into your
compartment?” Carson offered, sweeping suitcases
from the trolley onto the metal platform inside the car
door. “I can do that in less than three minutes.”
“Just keep an ear out for the conductor's last call,
Dad,” Nancy warned, “unless you want a surprise trip
to New York.”
Carson chuckled. “If I didn't have to be in court
tomorrow in River Heights, a trip to New York would
be great,” he said, hefting three suitcases. “I could tour
Metropolitan Museum of Art—the list is endless. New
York is like one gigantic grab bag full of things to do.”
“Not
to
mention
visiting
Delphinia
Van
Hoogstraten's mansion with its famous collection of
glass birds,” Nancy reminded him. “Here, Dad, let me
give you a hand with the bags.” She hoisted two suit-
cases, followed her father down the narrow aisle of the
sleeping car, and stopped outside the door marked
23B.
Sliding it open, she found two blue velour sofas
facing each other with a window in the wall beside
them. Large cabinets ran the length of the walls over
the sofas.
“The conductor will convert one of these sofas into a
bed later on,” Carson explained as he entered the
compartment behind Nancy. “Those overhead cabinets
will open to make two more beds.”
“There's room for the luggage under the sofas,”
Nancy commented, pushing her suitcase under the sofa
on her right.
“Last call!” the conductor shouted into the car. “All
those without tickets please exit immediately.”
“Goodbye, girls, and take good care of Eloise,” Car-
son said, referring to his sister, who lived in New York.
“I'm glad you'll be staying with her instead of at some
hotel. And, Nancy—try not to get involved in a mys-
tery,” he added with a wink. “Every good professional
needs time off, and detectives are no exception.”
“I'll try my best, Dad,” Nancy promised, smiling.
After giving her father a hug, she watched him hurry
down the aisle and off the train. The instant he stepped
on to the platform, the conductor slammed the car
door shut, and the train inched forward.
“I agree with your dad—no mysteries!” Bess ex-
claimed. “I have this feeling that just bringing up the
subject will jinx us. With your track record, Nan,
there's sure to be a mystery lurking somewhere on this
train.”
George propped her backpack in a niche by the door
and said, “I hope not. Your dad's right, Nancy Even ace
detectives need time off.”
“And I plan to take it,” Nancy said firmly, settling
herself on a sofa and peering out the window as the
train slid into a tunnel. “Our week in New York will be
total vacation, I promise. We'll explore the city, see
Aunt Eloise, and meet her friend Delphinia Van
Hoogstraten—Dell for short.”
“Tell me more about Dell,” Bess said as she and
George sat down on the sofa across from Nancy. “Why
is she turning her mansion into a museum?”
As the train rattled out of the tunnel and into the
sunshine, Nancy thought back to her conversation with
her aunt Eloise about the eccentric Van Hoogstraten
family. She'd told Bess and George only a few details
about them.
“According to Aunt Eloise,” Nancy explained,
“Dell's getting married and moving to Boston, where
her fiancé lives. The mansion is owned by a Van
Hoogstraten family partnership, and they've decided to
turn it into a museum.”
George's dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “But if a
bunch of Van Hoogstratens own the mansion, how
come Dell ended up living in it by herself?”
“Dell's an only child, and she grew up in the house,
so the place means a lot to her,” Nancy replied as she
looked out the window. Green fields and leafy trees
flashed by like a movie on fast-forward. Turning her
eyes from the afternoon sunlight that flooded into the
compartment, she added, “I think Dell pays rent to the
partnership. For some reason, none of Julius's other
descendants is interested in living there.”
“Julius?” Bess cut in. “Who's he?”
“Dell's great-grandfather Julius Van Hoogstraten,
who built the house,” Nancy replied. “He died in
1915.”
to afford the taxes and upkeep on a huge place like that
in New York City,” George commented.
“You said it, George,” Nancy declared. “Julius Van
Hoogstraten was one of the richest men in New York
during the Gilded Age. He made this unbelievable
fortune in railroads.”
“The Gilded Age?” Bess echoed, puzzled.
Pulling her reddish blond hair into a quick pony-tail,
Nancy explained, “That's a nickname for the late 1800s
when all these people became millionaires. They lived
incredibly
fancy
lives—people
like
Cornelius
Vanderbilt, J. P. Morgan, and John D. Rockefeller, who
made money from shipping and banking and oil. They
built these huge mansions and had tons of servants.”
“Those guys must have really raked in the dough,”
George commented, “especially because they didn't
have income taxes in those days.”
“The amount of money they had was mind-
boggling,” Nancy went on, “and they loved to flaunt it.
Balls and dinner parties for hundreds of guests,
humongous summer homes, and honeymoons around
the world were typical.”
“But what's so special about Julius's mansion? Why
would it rate as a museum?” George asked. “Did he
have a big art collection or something?”
“Julius had this awesome collection of blown-glass
birds,” Nancy told her. “He'd made them himself in
Holland before moving to America, when he was
twenty-five. They were so beautiful that he couldn't
stand the thought of leaving them behind. Now his
collection is priceless.”
“Who would have thought that a talent for making
glass birds would have led him to a fortune in rail-
roads?” Bess remarked.
“Aunt Eloise said that he came to America with his
glass bird collection and a few pennies in his pocket,”
Nancy went on, kicking off her shoes and folding her
legs under herself. “He started working as a train
mechanic, saved money, and when an opportunity
came to buy a struggling railroad, he seized it. But
apparently his newfound money went to his head. He
threw fancy parties—even for his pets' birthdays—
smoked cigars and drank expensive brandy, and was
known for being bossy and rude. He fired servants
right and left, except for his pastry chef, who could do
no wrong.”
Bess perked up. “Hmm. I wonder if the chef left any
of his recipes somewhere in the house—maybe in old
letters or cookbooks? That's the kind of mystery I'd be
up for solving, Nan. Nothing dangerous—but with a
definite payoff.”
“Speaking of food,” George said, checking her
watch, “it's five o'clock. Why don't we explore the train
before dinner?”
Nancy's blue eyes sparkled excitedly. “I forgot to tell
you guys—Julius's private railroad car has been totally
restored. It's attached to this train, and we can tour it.”
“What a coincidence!” Bess exclaimed.
“Not exactly,” Nancy admitted. “The Van
Hoogstratens arranged to have it attached to certain
routes in the Northeast to promote the opening of their
museum. So when I called to make our reservations, I
learned that the car would be on this particular train.
That's why we're traveling today.”
The girls stepped out of their compartment and
headed down the corridor toward the rear of the train.
The next car they entered was the dining car. Nancy
was surprised to see how crowded it was already. Peo-
ple were sitting at tables covered with white cloths and
set with gleaming cutlery. Most of the diners were
studying menus while white-coated waiters looked on
attentively, ready with pads to take orders.
The maître d' approached the girls. “Would you like
to have a table, ladies?” he asked in a friendly manner.
“A couple of tables are still available.”
“Not yet, thanks,” Nancy said with a polite smile.
“We thought we'd explore the Julius Van Hoogstraten
car first.”
“Well, you're in luck,” the maître d' said. “A gen-
tleman from the Van Hoogstraten mansion is giving
tours of the car starting at eight o'clock. He's suggest-
ing to people that they wait for his tour so they can
learn interesting details about Van Hoogstraten's life
and times.”
“We don't need a formal tour,” Nancy began when
the train gave a sudden lurch. Nancy, George, and Bess
fell backward a step, colliding with an empty booth.
Before Nancy could say another word, the lights in
the car flickered and then suddenly went out. Nothing,
not even a shadow, was visible.
Bess screamed as diners let out exclamations of
surprise. The sound of dishes breaking clattered from
the kitchen.
“Huh?” Nancy heard a woman say.
A screeching sound filled the air as the train slowed.
Nancy heard Bess gasp as it stopped.
“We just entered a tunnel, that's why it's so dark,”
the maître d' said.
“I can't see a thing,” George said. “But I can feel a
booth here. Let's sit down, guys. Are you near me?”
“Yes,” Nancy and Bess said together. After feeling
for the seats, they sat down with George.
“All the power is off,” the maître d' remarked. “No
air conditioner, no stove, no nothing.”
“It's getting so hot,” Bess said. “I can hardly breathe.
And this car is kind of crowded.”
“Don't worry, Bess,” George said. “I hear a con-
ductor coming. I'm sure he'll take care of the prob-
lem.”
“If only we hadn't
stopped inside a tunnel,” Bess
said weakly. “I'm getting claustrophobic.”
Nancy saw a flashlight bob down the aisle. A set of
keys rattled behind the light in the darkness.
“Hey, Fred!” the conductor shouted. “Are you get-
ting a connection?”
“Not yet.” Fred's frustrated voice sounded from the
front of the car. “I'm going to the engine.”
The conductor with his light bustled out as the
temperature in the car rose.
Perspiration formed on Nancy's face. The car was
hot, she thought.
“What's that smell?” Bess asked, sounding panicked.
“What smell?” George said.
“Smoke!” Bess replied.
“Bess, relax,” Nancy said soothingly.
Even Nancy couldn't ignore the smell of smoke that
suddenly gusted into the already hot and stuffy air.
What is going on? she wondered.
A woman's cry broke through the silence from a
table behind them. “Fire!”
2. A Secret Compartment
“Hush!” Nancy heard the maître d' say in a low voice.
“I assure you, ma'am, you're wrong.”
“Let's get out of here, guys!” Bess urged, ignoring
the maître d's calming words. “The smoke is getting
thicker.”
“Wait, Bess,” Nancy said. “Don't bolt. People will
hear you and panic. We'll have a stampede.”
Nancy sniffed the air. The smoke had an oddly
familiar spicy scent—not like a fire at all, she thought.
“What's that over there—glowing in the dark?”
George asked, gripping Nancy's arm.
Now two feet away from Nancy, a gleam of light
looked like tiny coals bobbing across a pitch-black
screen.
The light zoomed a foot to the right as a man's
cough rumbled through the silence.
“It's only a pipe!” Nancy exclaimed.
“What? I'm such an idiot,” Bess said, with a giggle of
relief.
“The man who's smoking it must be walking down
the aisle,” George remarked.
“Sir, sir!” said the woman who'd cried “fire.” Her
voice resonated from the booth behind them as she
tried to get the smoker's attention. “Sir, this train is
strictly no-smoking. Please have the courtesy to put out