Nancy finally drove out of the city and found the road to Loch Lomond. When they reached the country area, Bess exclaimed, “What a lovely landscape! Don’t you adore those bushy hedges? Nancy, stop! I want to see what they are.”
Nancy pulled to the side of the road. “They’re rose brier and hawthorn,” she said. “They must be beautiful when they’re in bloom.”
She drove on and presently George noticed some monkey puzzle trees and remarked on their twisted, interwoven limbs. “How sparse their foliage is, compared to the oaks and elms!”
“Speaking of monkeys, Nancy, we haven’t had any real bad luck on this trip,” Bess said. “Maybe we should thank that monkey pin Ned gave you.”
All three girls laughed, but suddenly worried looks came over their faces.
“Look out, Nancy!” George warned. “That car coming toward us is on the wrong side of the road! The driver must be an American!”
Nancy honked her horn wildly, but the driver paid no attention. Nancy was trying to decide what to do. If she stayed where she was, there would certainly be an accident. But if she moved to the opposite side of the road, the other driver might suddenly do the same thing!
Bess was terrified. She shrieked, “That man’s going to crash into us!”
CHAPTER VI
Houseboat Victims
THE oncoming driver seemed to have no intention of moving to the other side of the road.
“I’ll have to pull off!” Nancy concluded quickly. In a split second she deliberately plowed into a hedge and stopped. At almost the same moment the stranger yanked his steering wheel, swerving his small, closed car into his left lane.
As he whizzed past the girls, the man held his right hand up in such a way that it shielded his face.
“He’s crazy!” George said angrily.
“Not so crazy that he’d let us see who he is,” Bess stormed.
Nancy sat still without saying a word. She had not yet recovered from her fright. Ruefully she looked out the window at the ruined section of hedge.
“I suppose I’ll have to pay for the damage,”
Nancy thought, and turned to look back at the house they had just passed. It was a small, quaint stone structure with an arched entranceway.
Bess and George were still talking about the near accident. George had tried to get the license number of the other car, but had caught only part of it: GB-2.
By this time Nancy had recovered her equilibrium, and now speculated on the identity of the driver who had tried to ram them.
Suddenly Bess spoke up. “Nancy! Remember that threatening note with the Scotch plaid? Do you think this could be another attempt to damage a car of yours?”
“It could very well be,” Nancy agreed. “Even if that driver was on the wrong side of the road by mistake, my horn should have warned him.”
At that moment the door of the stone house opened and a woman of about fifty bustled up to the girls. She was rather plump, had high color in her cheeks, and her black hair was pulled straight back with a knot at the nape of her neck. Her expression was severe but not unfriendly.
Immediately Nancy and her friends stepped from the car. Nancy introduced the three, and the woman said she was Mrs. Gilmer.
“I’m dreadfully sorry this happened,” Nancy told her apologetically. “Actually it was not my fault. I had to avoid a bad accident.” She told about the oncoming driver and how he had swerved at the last moment. Tire marks in the road attested her statement. “I will be very glad to pay for the damage, however.”
The woman’s expression changed to one of kindness. “Nae, nae, I’m just glad ye’re all safe.” She went into a tirade about drivers that raced up and down this stretch of road “as if Tam o’ Shanter’s witch was after them.” The girls smiled.
“I’ll back the car out,” Nancy offered. “Then we can see how much of the hedge is broken.”
The damage proved not to be extensive and Mrs. Gilmer said, “I canna charge ye a farthing. Ye are Americans and obeying our laws. Ye shouldna’ suffer for the daft actions of someone else.”
Bess was on the verge of blurting out their suspicions about the driver, but thought better of it and kept still. Nancy thanked Mrs. Gilmer. Smiling, she added, “Left-side-of-the-road driving has always puzzled me. How did the custom start?”
The Scotswoman said the only explanation she had ever heard was that in ancient times the roads were not very safe for horsemen because of brigands.
“‘Tis said a rider would hold the reins in the left hand, and keep a sword in the right ready to deal with any highwayman coming on horseback from the opposite direction.”
“Ugh!” said Bess. “I’m glad I didn’t live in those dangerous times!”
Mrs. Gilmer smiled. “I guess it actually wasna’ any more dangerous than it is now, as ye all found out!”
The girls said good-by to her and set off once more for Loch Lomond. The drive was most pleasant, leading past several big estates with high stone walls screening them from the road.
Presently George called out, “I see the lake!”
“Loch,” Bess corrected her.
“Isn’t it lovely!” Nancy exclaimed.
Bess sighed. “Loch Lomond is just as beautiful as the songs and stories about it.”
As far as the girls could see, the crystal-clear water was surrounded by wooded hills. Islands dotted the surface of the loch.
Nancy had pulled up beside a cove and sat staring ahead at a row of houseboats. They looked like huge square boxes with windows. All were one story high and painted white. Each was secured to its own dock.
“Girls,” Nancy said excitedly, “those houseboats remind me of one of the pictures on that strange note we found in the hotel room!”
“Me too!” George agreed. “But do you think a houseboat has anything to do with our mystery?”
Nancy shrugged. “I’m going to keep it in mind as a clue.”
Bess, meanwhile, had been looking at the sky. What had started out to be a bright day was now an overcast one, with dark clouds scudding over the sun. The wind had picked up considerably.
“Maybe we’d better not go much farther,” she suggested. “If a storm breaks, I’d just as soon get back to the hotel. Wouldn’t you?”
Nancy agreed and said she would drive only a short distance. In the main, the road kept fairly close to the water. At one point near the shore a small stone pedestal had been erected. At the top was the statue of a small boy.
“I wonder why it was put there,” said George.
“I read about it in a guidebook,” Nancy answered. “The poor little fellow was drowned at this spot, so his parents erected the statue in his memory.”
“How sad!” Bess murmured.
The wind began to blow in great gusts and when the girls reached the small town of Luss, Nancy decided to turn around. At times the car shivered in the blasts. Nancy almost had to fight the wheel to keep in her lane.
“Let’s hurry!” Bess urged. “I don’t like this!”
Nancy put on more speed. By the time they reached the cove where the houseboats were tied up, the wind was blowing with gale force. The large craft were rocking violently.
“I sure wouldn’t want to be living in one of those,” George remarked. “Not in this weather.”
Could they get close enough to the houseboat to assist the trapped victims?
Suddenly a tremendous rush of wind came directly at them from the loch. It actually forced the car to the other side of the road! Nancy jammed on her brakes and the car held its position.
Bess and George, meanwhile, were watching the tossing houseboats. Suddenly Bess gave a shriek.
“One of the boats is going over!”
Nancy turned to look. The gale had lifted the third houseboat out of the water and sent it crashing onto the beach! The next second it toppled over! The girls could hear screams and cries above the howling wind.
“There are people in it! We must do something to help them!” N
ancy exclaimed.
Without thinking of the danger to themselves, the three girls took their raincoats and hats from the rear seat and quickly pulled them on. Nancy had shut off the engine and put on the hand brake.
Opening the door was like pushing against a gigantic wave, but the girls finally managed it and struggled out sideways. By this time rain was falling in a sheet. Loch Lomond was being whipped into white foam and small boats in the cove were tossing wildly.
As the girls endeavored to go forward along the shore, the screams from within the overturned houseboat increased. Could they get close enough to assist the trapped victims? No one had appeared from the other craft. Were their occupants away or afraid to come outside?
As the girls plowed toward the overturned boat, Bess gave a shout of alarm. She was behind the others, who turned quickly.
Nancy and George were horrified to see the force of the wind pushing Bess rapidly toward the angry water! Unable to keep her balance, she fell in headlong, the churning water crashing over her!
CHAPTER VII
The Dungeon
IN a flash, Nancy and George splashed into the whipping water of Loch Lomond and went to Bess’s assistance. She tried twice to get up, only to be knocked over again by a lashing wave.
Reaching her side, the two rescuers helped her stand up, though their own footing was precarious. Arm in arm, the three struggled to the beach.
Bess sank down. “Th-thanks for saving me.”
“Do you want to go back to the car?” Nancy asked her. “George and I can investigate the houseboat.”
“No, no,” Bess replied quickly. “I’m all right. I want to help the poor people in there.”
Above the wind the girls could hear a child crying, “Mama! Mama! Wake up!”
The three hurried forward and clambered onto the side of the overturned houseboat. There was no door but Nancy managed to open a window, and leaned down over the sill. She surveyed what was below her. Furniture and rugs lay scattered on the opposite wall, which now formed the floor of the houseboat. Stretched out was a woman and beside her knelt a little girl, sobbing.
The child looked up at Nancy. “Did you come to wake my mama up?” she asked.
Nancy gazed at the tear-stained face. She fervently hoped that the little girl’s mother was only unconscious.
“I’m coming, honey,” Nancy replied. Calling to her friends, she quickly described the scene below, then said, “Give me a hand so I can drop gently.”
The cousins crawled over. Each held one of Nancy’s hands as she eased her body downward.
“Okay. Let go!” she said.
Nancy hastened to the woman. After a quick examination she reported that the little girl’s mother apparently had not suffered any broken bones. Probably she had struck her head when the boat tipped over.
“I’ll put this table under the window,” Nancy said to Bess and George. “Then you won’t have so far to jump.” She righted the sturdy pine table and helped steady George when she dropped. Then both girls assisted Bess down.
The child was crying and trying to hide behind an upended overstuffed chair. Bess went to her at once. “What’s your name?”
“Isa Arden. Pl-please make my mama wake up!”
“We will,” Bess promised. “Do come out and see me.”
The little girl’s shyness vanished. She ran to Bess. “Everything’s upside down!” she wailed.
“It will be all right soon,” Bess assured her.
Meanwhile, Nancy and George had been trying to revive Mrs. Arden. Nancy chafed the woman’s wrists and massaged the back of her neck, while George hunted for a stimulant. Finally she found a bottle of camphor, which she waved under Mrs. Arden’s nose until the woman regained consciousness.
She rubbed her head, then in a weak voice asked, “Who are you? Where am I?”
“Mama! Mama!” Isa cried joyfully, and rushed over to hug her mother.
In a few seconds the whole catastrophe came back to Mrs. Arden. “You came to help us?” she asked the girls. “You saw the accident?”
“Yes,” said Nancy. She introduced herself and Bess and George. “The wind and rain have died down. Can we take you to some neighbor?”
At that moment a man poked his head through the window and called down, “Mrs. Arden, be ye all right?”
“Aye. These kind lassies have offered to help Isa and me get out.”
The man put his arms through the opening and said, “Hand Isa up. My wife is with me. She’ll take care of her.”
As soon as the child had been lifted out, the girls boosted Mrs. Arden to the opening, where the man helped her climb through it.
The three girls then scrambled outside. The neighbors introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Scott. When they saw the bedraggled condition of the Americans, they invited them to come into their houseboat and dry off.
“We’d be glad to accept,” Nancy said quickly.
The Scotts’ houseboat was neat and cozy, with everything in its proper place. The girls’ clothing soon dried from the warmth of a stove. After the three had washed their faces and hands and combed their hair, Mrs. Scott suddenly looked intently at Nancy.
“Why, your picture is on the cover of Photographie Internationale!” she exclaimed. “I thought your name seemed familiar when you introduced yourself. You’re the American girl detective!”
Nancy blushed, not because of the praise, but because she knew the news of her presence had been broadcast in Scotland. “I’ll probably be recognized almost everywhere!” she groaned inwardly. “Whoever my enemy is, he will be alerted as to where I am and keep out of my way! How can I ever catch him!”
“If you’re looking for mysteries, we have one right here,” Mrs. Scott went on. “Did you notice that the last houseboat is some distance away from the others?”
“No, I didn’t,” Nancy admitted.
Mrs. Scott lowered her voice. “Some very strange-acting men live on it now. The couple who stay there summers don’t arrive until later. They must have rented their houseboat to these men. But nobody around here has even found out what their names are. They mostly come and go at night, and don’t seem to have a car.”
Nancy was intrigued. She said, “Unless we can do something else for Mrs. Arden and Isa, I think we’d better leave. First, though, I’ll walk up and take a look at that houseboat.”
Nancy would have liked to ask more questions, but a group of neighbors arrived and there was no chance. The three girls exchanged farewells with the Scotts and Ardens, then made their way to the last houseboat. They stepped from the dock onto a narrow deck which circled the craft. The windows were heavily curtained and there was no answer to their knock. The trio walked around the deck, but found no clues to cast suspicion on the occupants.
“Let’s go!” Bess pleaded. “I can’t wait to have a hot bath and put on clean clothes.”
“Bess,” Nancy said sympathetically, “you must have been horribly uncomfortable all this time. I’ll get you to Glasgow in a jiffy!”
When they arrived at the hotel, Nancy changed into a fresh dress, then decided to tell her father of their afternoon’s experience and her suspicions. Bess and George declared they would rest for a while. As Nancy passed the room to which she and her friends had first been assigned, she heard a bagpipe being played. The tune was Scots, Wha Hae!
She paused to listen. The piper was apparently a beginner, for he was going over and over the first phrase and not playing it very well.
“I wonder if that’s Mr. Dewar!” Nancy walked on, recalling the message in the bureau drawer. One of the sketches on it was that of a bagpipe! Was there a connection between the two circumstances?
Nancy knocked on the door of her father’s room and was delighted to find him there. Mr. Drew was reading an evening paper. “Here’s something you’re not going to like, I’m afraid,” he told his daughter. On the front page was a picture of Nancy taken from the cover of Photographie Internationale, and a story which called her �
��the girl detective tourist.” Seeing it, she groaned. “This is horrible, Dad! I don’t want to be recognized!”
She told him of the houseboat episode and how Mrs. Scott had identified her. “Soon I won’t be able to do any sleuthing in secret.”
Her father expressed his concern, and then, to lighten Nancy’s spirits, he said with a grin, “It’s almost like wearing a uniform and a badge. I think I’ll get you one marked ‘Detective’!”
Nancy laughed but in a moment became sober again as she told of the near accident on the road. Mr. Drew frowned. “It certainly looks as if the fellow deliberately tried to give you a bad scare—if not to injure you. I wish we could find out who is behind these car episodes.”
“I’m sure the missing heirloom has something to do with it,” she replied. “Dad, do you think we should notify the police?”
After a few moments’ thought, the lawyer decided against it. “We really have nothing to go on,” he said. “You didn’t get the full license number of the car, and you can’t identify the driver. I do have one suggestion. Let’s not eat in the hotel dining room. There’s a French restaurant next door. Suppose we go there about seven and find a secluded table.”
“That sounds great, Dad,” said Nancy.
Mr. Drew and the girls found the restaurant to be delightful. At the lawyer’s request the attentive headwaiter seated them in an alcove. No one bothered them, but Nancy did notice that their waiter, and also the bus boy, stared intently at her several times.
She began to suspect that they had recognized her. As they were eating dessert, the bus boy handed her a piece of paper and a pencil.
“Monsieur, at the second table from here, would like the autograph of the girl detective.”
It took Nancy only a split second to decide not to accede to the request. She was remembering the man called Pete in River Heights who had paid a dollar for her signature. She was not going to give anybody else a chance to use her autograph in some unsavory scheme.
Nancy looked over at “Monsieur.” She smiled graciously, shook her head, and with her lips formed the word “Sorry.”
The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes Page 4
