your pipe.”
“I'm so sorry.” The man's gruff voice cut through the
darkness, which seemed to envelop everyone like a
stiflingly hot blanket. “I always smoke when I'm
nervous,” he continued apologetically.
Several taps sounded from nearby, and Nancy
guessed the man was extinguishing his pipe. “There,
that's done,” he said.
“Even if there is no fire,” Bess said quietly, “we're
still stuck here in the dark. And the air is really hot.
How long do you guys think oxygen lasts in a situation
like this?”
“Don't worry, Bess,” Nancy said, placing a com-
forting arm around her friend's shoulder. “The train
crew will fix the problem, or if worse comes to worst,
they'll evacuate the train through the tunnel. But I
doubt it will come to that. In any case, we definitely
won't suffocate.”
Bess took a deep breath. “Thanks for the reassur-
ance, Nan. I mean, I wouldn't want to miss out on
wearing my hot new dress to Dell's party,” she added
wryly.
After a tense ten minutes, light flooded back into the
car. The passengers jumped in their seats, some closing
their eyes from the sudden brightness. Nancy, George,
and Bess blinked at one another in surprise, then
squinted to see what was happening.
A door opened at the far end of the car, and two
conductors hurried through it. An anxious silence fell
over the passengers as they waited to hear what the
train officials would say.
“Please don't worry, ladies and gentlemen,” the first
conductor called out. “Some circuit breakers tripped,
but we've fixed 'em and now this train is back in the
running.” As if to illustrate his words, the train began to
lurch forward.
“We're running a half hour behind schedule,” the
second conductor announced, “but we'll try to make it
up by putting on a little extra steam.”
The moment the conductors moved into the next
car, the dining car erupted into mixed comments of
relief and annoyance.
“Thanks heavens the problem was only a circuit
breaker, and we'll only be a half hour late,” said a
woman.
“Don't believe it for a moment,” said the pipe
smoker. “They're just feeding us a line so we won't
panic—or sue.”
“Well, ladies,” the maître d' said, approaching
Nancy, Bess, and George. “What do you say to some
dinner? You must be starving after our little adventure.
Why don't I send over a waiter to take your order?”
Bess smiled at him as she took a menu. “Thanks.
There's nothing more soothing than a good dinner and
a piece of chocolate cake to finish it off,” she said
brightly.
“Aha! I will reserve a piece of our double chocolate
walnut cake especially for you,” the maître d' promised.
The door to the dining car was suddenly opened. A
tall brown-haired young man with light hazel eyes
stepped through it and approached the maître d'.
Dressed in a white tie, black tails, and a top hat, he
looked both elegant and strange.
“I can't figure out whether he looks handsome or
dorky,” Bess whispered to Nancy and George. “I mean,
why is he dressed up like that just to have dinner on a
train?”
“He looks like one of those symphony orchestra
musicians,” George said, staring at him as if he were a
creature from another planet.
“Or like an ad for men's clothes from a hundred
years ago,” Nancy remarked.
Before they could say another word, the man and
the maître d' approached them.
“I would like to introduce Mr. Alden Guest,” the
maître d' said. “He's the gentleman I mentioned who
gives tours of the Van Hoogstraten railway car. Since
the rest of my dining car is full, would you mind if Mr.
Guest dines with you? He has to eat now because later
he'll be conducting tours.”
“Have a seat,” Nancy said, smiling at Alden as she
made room for him on her side of the table.
The girls introduced themselves, and then the waiter
took everyone's order.
“We were wondering why you're dressed like that,”
George said to Alden after the maître d' had left. “Is it
because you're a tour guide?”
Alden grinned, showing a set of brilliant white teeth.
“You guessed correctly, George. I'm really a New York
banker, but I've volunteered some vacation time over
the next couple of weeks to publicize the opening of
the Van Hoogstraten museum. Right now I'm in charge
of the Van Hoogstraten railroad car. It's been attached
to certain trains to promote the museum, which opens
in five days.”
“Wow!” Bess said. “So Dell is moving out of her
house in five days?”
The expression on Alden's handsome face was one
of surprise. “Dell?” he said. “How do you know my
cousin Dell?”
Nancy quickly explained about her aunt Eloise's
friendship with Delphinia Van Hoogstraten. “Aunt
Eloise also told me about Dell's great-grandfather's
mansion and his collection of glass birds,” she finished.
“Julius Van Hoogstraten was my great-grandfather,
too,” Alden said. “Dell's father and my mother were
brother and sister, though many years apart in age.
Dell is in her early forties, while I'm twenty years
younger.”
Bess smiled shyly at Alden. “It's too bad that you
have to slave away all evening giving people tours of
your great-grandfather's car. Otherwise you could have
hung out with us.”
“Some other time,” Alden promised, fixing Bess with
a dazzling smile. “But why don't I take you on your
own personal tour of the car before I get busy with the
tour groups at eight? We've got plenty of time—it's
only six now.”
“That would be great,” Bess gushed, and Nancy and
George nodded in agreement.
The waiter brought their dinners, along with their
soft drinks. As Nancy dug into her lasagna, Alden
turned to the girls and asked, “How long are you going
to be in New York?”
“A week,” Nancy said. “We'll be able to see the
museum after it opens. But if Dell invites us to see it
earlier, we'll jump at the chance.”
“You don't need her to invite you,” Alden said
dismissively. “I'd be happy to let you into the museum
any time. And by the way, how much has your aunt told
you about Julius's collection?”
“Not a whole lot,” Nancy said. “Just that he kept his
glass birds in a room that looks like a greenhouse.”
Alden nodded. “Julius called it the aviary, and he
divided it into a bunch of different regions of the
world, like a tropical rain forest or a northern wood. He
gave each bird its own habitat using silk trees and
&nbs
p; flowers.”
“It sounds really cool,” Bess said, her blue eyes
shining. “How did Julius get to be so talented? It's
amazing that a rich businessman would also be an artist
type.”
“Julius loved ornithology, which is the study of
birds,” Alden replied. “After he became rich, he would
travel all over the world to exotic places to birdwatch.
He'd record each new species he saw in his diary.
Some of his rich friends only cared about money, but
birdwatching was Julius's passion.”
“How did he learn to blow glass?” George asked.
“That sounds like a really hard skill.”
“When my great-grandfather was a young man in
Holland, he served as an apprentice to a famous
glassblower named Gustav Kinderhook,” Alden said,
spearing a piece of lettuce with his fork. “He learned
his craft from Gustav. But after Julius brought his birds
to America, he no longer had time to make new ones.
He had to be satisfied with displaying the ones he'd
already made in Holland.”
“He must have been so proud of them,” Bess said.
Alden finished his salad and said, “He was extremely
proud of them—more than he was of his huge railroad
empire. In one of his letters, he said that anyone could
get rich with a little luck and hard work, but very few
people can be artists, no matter how hard they try.”
“So was he famous for his collection when he was
alive?” Nancy asked.
“He didn't allow the public to see it,” Alden an-
swered. “After all, he kept the birds in his private
house. But the few glass experts who saw his collection
considered it to be extraordinary. They wrote books on
the subject and raved about the Van Hoogstraten
Collection—which is what we're calling our museum.”
After dessert was served, Bess asked, “How do you
have time to know about banking and glass birds? You
must be a chip off the old block. I mean, you're exactly
like Julius—multitalented.”
“Give me a break, Bess,” George said, rolling her
eyes. “Or rather, give poor Alden a break.”
“No, it's okay,” Alden said, squaring his shoulders
proudly. “I'm flattered to be compared to my great-
grandfather. Of course, I don't deserve it.”
“Now you're fishing,” Bess teased, pushing aside the
remains of her chocolate cake. “But speaking of your
great-grandfather, why don't you show us his railway
coach? I'm dying to see for myself how he lived.”
After signing their checks, Alden, Bess, George, and
Nancy headed for the end of the train. They passed
through another sleeping car before walking inside
Julius's coach—the last car on the train.
Nancy looked around, awestruck. She felt as if she
had entered another world. The mahogany paneling of
the walls was a rich burnished red-brown. The maroon
velvet upholstery on the sofa and armchairs looked as
soft as a cat's fur. The crystal chandelier and wall
sconces imparted a golden glow. And the framed sepia
photographs of Victorian men and women adorning the
walls spoke hauntingly of people who had lived long
ago.
Nancy traded glances with Bess and George. She
could tell they all agreed that Julius's coach was a sight
to behold.
“I thought our train compartment was pretty cushy,”
George said, shooting a grin at Alden. “But now you've
totally spoiled me.”
“It is incredible, isn't it?” Alden said. “Look at this.”
He pulled a wooden handle that stuck out of a nearby
wall, and a bed eased itself down on top of the sofa.
With its antique wooden headboard, puffy mattress,
and lace bedspread, it reminded Nancy of an
illustration she'd once seen of the bed in “The Princess
and the Pea.”
“Look at this headboard,” Nancy breathed, fingering
the carved wood. Eight squares, each filled with a
different kind of carved bird, decorated it.
“Try it out,” Alden offered, gesturing grandly at the
bed. “The mattress is made of pure goosedown—
awesomely comfortable.”
“Is this guy Julius?” Bess broke in from across the
room. As Alden and George moved to a portrait in the
opposite corner, Nancy sank down on the bed. Without
meaning to touch the headboard, she tapped her head
lightly against one of the middle squares.
Was she dreaming—or was the square giving way?
Maybe the wood is rotten, she thought, as she
straightened up and turned around to look.
Nancy blinked. The square was sliding open!
3. Mystery Lady
“Look, guys!” Nancy exclaimed. “A secret compart-
ment.”
Peering inside, Nancy saw some yellowing en-
velopes. Addresses had been scrawled on them in ink,
now faded with age. Old letters, she concluded—
probably Julius's.
Bess, George, and Alden moved quickly to her side.
Reaching over her head, Alden shut the panel.
“Very interesting, Nancy,” he pronounced. “I'll have
to check that out later. Now, where was I? Talking
about Julius, I think.”
As he returned to the portrait with Bess and George,
Nancy thought about his response to her discovery. He
doesn't seem surprised by the panel, she thought.
Nancy stole a look behind her. Alden, Bess, and
George were busy studying a portrait of a gray-haired
man in his sixties with an aquiline nose, steely blue
eyes, and a stern expression. Bushy mutton-chop
whiskers on the sides of his cheeks and a starched col-
lar marked him as being from a totally different era. On
the tip of his forefinger perched a crystal dove.
He must be Julius, Nancy reasoned. But despite his
grim expression and old-fashioned hair, Nancy could
tell that Julius must have been quite handsome in his
youth, with his strong jaw, piercing eyes, and chiseled
features.
She glanced back at the secret panel, feeling sud-
denly intrigued by Julius's Gilded Age world. It would
take only a few seconds to skim through one of the
letters, she thought, but Alden had clearly put them off
limits.
Fighting her curiosity, Nancy memorized which bird
decorated the secret panel—an eagle, she observed.
Climbing off the bed, Nancy walked over to join
Bess and George as Alden pointed out a print of the
Van Hoogstraten mansion in New York. But her
thoughts were wandering far from what he was saying.
Maybe I'll sneak back here later tonight and take a
look at those letters when no one's around, Nancy
mused, her mind clicking away as Alden spoke. Julius
seems like such a complicated guy, she thought. From
everything Alden had said and from what she knew of
his life, Julius was a tough businessman as well as a
sensitive artist. How c
ould such opposite types exist in
one person? she wondered.
Even though he'd been dead for several generations,
Nancy couldn't help but be curious about such a
contradictory and powerful character. In trying to
figure out Julius, she almost felt as if she had stumbled
across a type of mystery.
Nancy glanced again at the portrait. She could easily
trace the Gilded Age tycoon in Julius's haughty
features, but nowhere in his bold face could she detect
any hint of the nature-loving artist.
There's only one real way to get a sense of this guy,
she concluded—by studying his letters and diaries.
Alden's gaze suddenly flew to his watch. “It's almost
eight,” he announced. “I'm due to give a tour now. I'd
much rather hang out with you guys, of course, but
you're welcome to stay while the tour comes in.”
“Thanks, Alden,” Nancy said, “but I'm pretty tired.
Maybe Bess and George will take you up on your
offer.”
Bess stifled a yawn. “I'd love to stay, but you gave us
such a great private tour, Alden, that it wouldn't be the
same with a crowd.”
“Exactly my thoughts,” George said. “Thank you so
much, Alden. Will we see you at Dell's dinner party
tomorrow night?”
Alden flashed his brilliant smile. “You can count on
it. But only if all three of you promise to dance at least
once with me.”
Nancy gave him the thumbs-up sign. Then they all
thanked him again and moved toward the car door
while an elderly couple, two young women, and the
man with the pipe streamed into the car. Once the girls
reached their compartment, they found the beds
pulled down for them.
“Perfect!” Bess said. “I can get my beauty sleep be-
fore hitting the dance floor at Dell's tomorrow night.”
Nancy curled up on her bed with a book. “You know
what, guys?” she said. “I'd love to read those letters in
the secret compartment. I'm really curious to know
more about Julius.”
“But what if Alden catches you?” Bess asked. “While
you were busy with the secret panel, he mentioned to
me and George that his compartment is in the coach
next to Julius's. He might hear you open Julius's door.”
“I'll be careful, Bess,” Nancy promised. “I've got a
flashlight, so I won't need to turn on any lights. And I'll
wait till it looks like everyone's asleep.”
A few hours later Nancy woke up from a doze, still