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between the deck boards. It was a large, gold ornamental hairpin, old-fashioned in design. Tiny diamonds and emeralds sparkled from the fan-shaped end, which was about two inches wide.
    “The gold is still shiny,” Nancy observed, scrutinizing the pin, “so this probably hasn’t been here very long.”
    Bess and George, too, were intrigued. “You mean the pin might have been dropped here recently by its owner?” asked George.
    As Nancy nodded, the girls noticed a strange expression come over Charles Bartolome’s face. He had been staring intently for several minutes at the hairpin.
    “Do you know who the owner is?” George asked him.
    “Possibly,” the young man replied after a long moment of silence. “A few months ago Mrs. Haver showed me her collection of old jewelry. There was a hairpin exactly like this one among the pieces.”
    The girls were stunned by this information. It was incredible, they thought, that Mrs. Haver would have worn the ornament to the showboat. Then who had?
    “Have you any theory as to how the pin got here?” Nancy asked Charles.
    “Perhaps someone stole it from Mrs. Haver and dropped it accidentally,” he offered.
    Bess was inclined to think that the pin might not have been dropped accidentally. “Perhaps someone planted it here on purpose!”
    “But why?” George asked.
    Since no one could even attempt to solve the riddle at the moment, the subject was dropped. Nancy pocketed the hairpin with the thought of questioning Mrs. Haver about it later. The young detective now asked Charles if he had heard any birdcalls earlier.
    “You mean the wild ducks that were answering each other?”
    “Yes, only according to Uncle Rufus they weren’t genuine calls. He suggested that some boys were playing a game. But we girls thought that perhaps someone might be spying on the showboat. A confederate some distance away could have been using the call to warn someone that we were approaching.”
    Charles frowned. “That could be true. If so, I don’t like it at all. I must admit my work kept me so busy that I didn’t notice anyone around.”
    Next, Nancy told the young architect about the vine barrier in the stream.
    “This is serious,” he said. “I’ll ask Uncle Rufus to search the swamp.”
    He called down softly to Uncle Rufus, requesting him to hunt for any persons who might be watching the group on the boat. As the old man nodded and paddled off, Nancy suggested that the rest of them make certain no one was hiding on the boat itself.
    The searchers separated, with Charles offering to go down into the hold of the vessel to find out if anyone were there. Nancy took the dressing rooms and upper deck, Bess the auditorium, and George the stage.
    A thorough search was made. Doors to rooms and closets creaked on their hinges as they were opened, but all were empty except for spider webs.
    Bess, after looking in the theater, wandered along one of the nearby corridors. With a start, she suddenly saw a reflection in a full-length mirror on the wall ahead of her. The frame was tarnished with age and the figure looked wavery.
    “Oh!” she cried with a little shiver. Then, realizing the reflection was her own, she ran out on deck.
    “This is positively the spookiest place I’ve ever been in!” she said to Nancy, who had just come down from investigating the lookout and second deck.
    Soon George joined them, then Charles. All reported there was no evidence that anyone besides themselves was aboard.
    A few moments later Uncle Rufus returned. He reported that there was no one within a hundred yards of the River Princess. “I sure did look sharp every which way,” the elderly man assured them. Then he added that he must leave soon.
    “We’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Nancy told him. She turned to Charles and asked him if he had ever been on the showboat after dark.
    “No, I haven’t,” he said. “In fact, I’ve never even been in the bayou after sundown.” Then, reading Nancy’s