“I’ll phone George right away and let you know,” Bess offered.
Within ten minutes she called back excitedly. “Everything’s arranged! When do we leave? And will your dad make the reservations?”
Nancy hurried to ask her father. “We’ll start three days from now,” he told her. “I’m glad the girls are coming along.”
When Nancy relayed the news, Bess gasped. “Three days! We’ll make it, but my goodness what a rush! I’m glad we have our old passports.”
Nancy soon said good night to her father and Hannah Gruen and went to her room to start her packing. When she finally went to bed, the weary girl drifted off to sleep immediately. She was awake early, and helped prepare a breakfast of fresh strawberries, bacon and eggs, and muffins.
Not long after Mr. Drew had left the house, the postman arrived with a handful of letters. One, which was printed and bore no return address, was for Nancy. Curious, she opened it quickly. As she read the note inside, she gave a gasp of amazement.
“Bad news, Nancy?” Mrs. Gruen asked.
“Yes, in a way. This is a threat!”
“Oh, my goodness!” the woman exclaimed, and took the letter. Aloud she read: “‘Your wrecked convertible is just the first of a series of accidents that will befall you and any car you ride in.”’
The note was unsigned.
Nancy, fingering the envelope, thought she felt something inside it. She reached in and drew out a tiny square of plaid cloth.
“It’s a piece of Douglas tartan!” she cried out.
Hannah Gruen looked perturbed. “What does this all mean?” she asked worriedly.
Nancy was silent for several seconds. Finally she said, “My guess is that the writer of this note is warning me that the accident is connected with my trip to Scotland. I wonder if it could have anything to do with the missing heirloom. Hannah, maybe whoever wrote this message is the thief and he doesn’t want me to try finding it.”
“But this letter was postmarked here in River Heights!” the housekeeper objected.
Nancy’s forehead wrinkled in deep thought. “Maybe the valuable heirloom was shipped to this country. Anyway, I’m going to turn the note over to the police.”
Nancy went off to do this, then spent the rest of the day shopping and talking to the garage repairman and to an agent of her automobile insurance company. Nancy was thankful that the convertible could be repaired, although the job would take some time. So far, the police had uncovered nothing regarding the owner of the truck or the person who had caused the wreck.
That evening Nancy and Hannah decided to take their terrier, Togo, for a little run. Mr. Drew was working in his study.
Half an hour later Nancy, after a long sprint, said, “Togo, you have me out of breath! I think you’ve had enough fresh air for tonight. Home we go!”
With the peppy terrier pulling on the leash, Nancy and Mrs. Gruen hurried home. Just as they started up the driveway, they saw a figure slip furtively away from the front of the house and go off toward the rear of the property. At once Nancy and the dog went after him, but by the time they reached the backyard, the man had disappeared.
At last they returned to the housekeeper, who declared, “Whoever that person is, his business wasn’t honest or he wouldn’t have sneaked away.”
“I agree,” said Nancy. “Let’s see if we can find any clues to his identity.”
She put Togo in the house, then took a flashlight from a drawer in the hall table. Nancy began looking for footprints and found some faint dirty marks coming up the steps to the front porch. Another set led away. Before Nancy had a chance to try following them, Hannah cried out, “Something just started ticking in the mailbox!”
Nancy turned quickly and looked at the wrought-iron mailbox which was fastened to a hook alongside the front door. An expression of horror came over her face.
“It’s a bomb!” she cried out.
CHAPTER III
Unwanted Publicity
As NANCY dashed forward to yank the mailbox from the hook, Hannah Gruen warned, “Don’t touch it!”
“The ticking just started,” Nancy replied quickly.
In a split second the box was in her hands. She flung it far out onto the lawn. Nancy and Hannah waited breathlessly. So far there had been only five ticks. Six—seven—eight—nine—
BOOM!
The explosion ripped the box apart, dug a deep hole in the ground, and scattered dirt, stones, and debris in all directions.
The noise brought Mr. Drew outside on the run. “What happened?” he asked.
By this time Hannah, her knees trembling, had dropped into a porch chair. As Nancy began to speak, the housekeeper rocked back and forth furiously.
“It’s terrible!” she said weakly.
Nancy felt somewhat shaky herself, but assured her father they were unharmed.
Mr. Drew was greatly concerned. “You two might have been killed!” he cried out angrily. “The perpetrator of this crime must be found!”
The lawyer said he would phone the police. As he disappeared into the house, Nancy went to the lawn and examined the fragments caused by the explosion. Her sharp eyes soon detected fresh bits of paper with writing on them.
“That’s funny,” she thought. “We’ve already taken in today’s mail. Surely the person who planted the bomb didn’t leave a note.”
Nancy gathered up all the paper scraps she could find and showed them to Hannah, still seated on the porch. “I wonder when this note was put into the mailbox. Have you any idea, Hannah?”
The housekeeper frowned. “Well, just before dinner tonight, the doorbell rang. When I went to answer, no one was there. Do you suppose the person who left the note rang the bell and then ran?”
“Possibly.” More puzzled than ever, Nancy went into the house and spread the scraps of paper on the dining-room table. It took her a while to place the tiny fragments in their proper positions. Although parts of words were missing, she could clearly get the meaning of the message. It said:
Drew is going to bomb you!
Nancy stared at the warning. Who had sent it? “And who or whatever is Drew?” she asked herself.
Hannah and Mr. Drew walked in to say that two policemen had arrived and were making moulages of the prowler’s footprints. Nancy showed them the message.
The housekeeper threw up her hands in dismay. “I’m glad you’re both going to Scotland. It certainly isn’t safe for you around here!”
Nancy and her father were forced to agree, but Nancy added, “Even if I have a mysterious man for an enemy, I think I have an unknown woman for a friend. This looks like a woman’s handwriting.”
“Yes, it does,” said Mr. Drew. “However, your unknown enemy is very sly. Who knows where he may strike next?”
While they were talking the front doorbell rang. The caller was Chief McGinnis of the River Heights police force. He and the Drews had often cooperated on solving local mysteries.
The chief was ushered into the dining room. After greeting Nancy, the middle-aged, good-natured officer said, “I want to hear about this whole mystery. Start at the beginning, Nancy.”
She did so, and ended by showing him the message on the table.
He whistled softly. “If you have a piece of cardboard and some glue, I’d like to paste this warning together and take it to headquarters.”
Nancy produced glue and cardboard and together they accomplished the tedious job. By this time the policemen had completed their work outside the house and reported to the chief. The two men then said good night and left.
Nancy continued to study the handwriting on the strange note. She was sure that it held a good clue to the solution of the mystery. Procuring a piece of tracing paper, she copied the message.
Chief McGinnis laughed. “Is this a challenge?” he asked. “I hear you’re leaving for Scotland in a couple of days. You’ll have to hurry if you’re going to beat me in finding the writer of this note!”
Nancy chuckled. “
It will have to wait. I’ve already planned some sleuthing for tomorrow.”
In the morning Nancy told her father she was going to inquire of various shopkeepers if they had seen any Scottish persons in town who were strangers to the community. “Such a person might have sent that piece of plaid.”
“Good luck!” he called as Nancy left the house.
She went from place to place, putting her questions but receiving only negative responses.
“That plaid lead certainly didn’t pay off,” Nancy told herself as she started for home.
As she walked up the main street her eye was attracted to the window of a photographic shop. Staring straight at her was her own photograph!
Nancy hurried to the window. In the center of the display was a copy of Photographie Internationale. On the cover was the picture of Nancy sleuthing with a magnifying glass.
“It’s pretty good,” she thought. “But oh, how I wish Bess had won the trip some other way!”
Nancy was so intent upon the magazine that she did not notice she was slowly being surrounded by a throng of curious persons. As she turned to leave, a cheer went up and everyone began to clap. This attracted the attention of more people, who came hurrying from every direction.
“It’s really you—Nancy Drew!” exclaimed a little girl in the crowd. “You’re famous!”
“You’re the girl detective!” cried another.
Suddenly a boy pushed his way through to Nancy and begged, “Please, miss, may I have your autograph?” The boy had big, blue pleading eyes. He was very shabbily dressed, and Nancy guessed that his family had little to spend on clothes. She smiled sympathetically and wrote her name on the piece of paper he held out.
“Oh, thank you!” The boy grinned and moved to the back of the crowd.
“I want one tool” said a little girl, running forward. “But I haven’t any paper.”
“Oh, that’s all right, honey,” said Nancy. She opened her handbag and took out a small notebook. After writing her name on one of the pages, she tore it out and handed the signature to the child.
This became the signal for a dozen children to push forward and ask for Nancy’s autograph. She graciously obliged, but as several adults came up, the young sleuth shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” she said politely. “I did it just for the children.”
As she spoke, Nancy noticed that the shabbily dressed little boy was still at the rear of the crowd. To her annoyance, he was actually handing her autograph to a man, who in turn was giving the boy a dollar bill for it!
“Why, the idea!” Nancy thought. She called out to the man, “I said the autographs were only for the children. Please give that back!”
Instead of doing this, the man gave her a supercilious grin. “Thanks, babe,” he shouted. “This will come in handy!”
He wheeled and hurried down the street. Nancy was furious. Instinct told her he was a person of whom to beware. She must get back that paper!
Pushing through the surprised crowd, she dashed down the street. Her quarry, who had had a good head start, turned a corner. When Nancy reached it, he was nowhere in sight. Disappointed, she retraced her steps and once more started up Main Street.
To her relief, the crowd at the photography shop had dispersed. The only one who lingered was the little boy who had sold her signature.
Seeing Nancy, he rushed to her side. “Please, may I have another autograph?” he asked.
Nancy was angry. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she faced him squarely. “To sell?” she asked.
The little boy began to quiver. “N-no,” he stammered. “It’s just for me.”
“Who was that man you sold my autograph to?”
The boy began to cry. “I don’t know—honest I don’t. After you said you wouldn’t give out autographs to grownups, he waved that dollar bill in my face and I couldn’t say No. My mother needs money awful bad.”
Nancy released her grip on the boy’s shoulders. He kept insisting he was telling the truth. “All right,” said Nancy finally, taking the note pad from her purse. “Suppose you give me your autograph, and write down your address too.”
The lad gladly did so. Nancy took it and said, “Johnny Barto, some time I will come to your house, and if I find you have been telling the truth, I’ll give you another autograph.” She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “All right?”
The boy smiled back, said he was sorry, and shuffled off. Nancy was tempted to follow him, still a bit suspicious that he did know who the purchaser of her signature was. Various thoughts flashed through her mind. Why was the man so eager to obtain the signature? Did he plan to use it in some illegal way?
She stood lost in thought until the boy had disappeared from view. “I do believe his story,” she said to herself. “But perhaps I’ll ask Ned to go to Johnny’s house and check. I certainly miss having my own car to use!”
Nancy continued to reflect. “Anyway, I did get a good look at the man who bought my autograph. He was of medium height, thin, had a shock of black hair, and red cheeks.”
Ideas about the man came to her quickly. Could he have planted the bomb? Had he caused the crash that had wrecked her car? Since she had had no success learning about any strange Scotsman, Nancy decided to change her tactics.
“I’ll concentrate on trying to learn the identity of that man who bought my autograph!”
Her quest was unsuccessful until she came to a drugstore. It was owned by a Mr. Gregg, and the Drews frequently bought supplies there.
As Nancy walked up to the counter, Mr. Gregg, a stout, jolly person, said, “Hello, Nancy. Another mystery giving you a big headache? You’d like some aspirin?”
Nancy chuckled. “I have a mystery, but I don’t need aspirin. I came for some information.”
“Well, since you’re a customer of long standing, I can give you information free,” said the druggist with a grin.
Nancy described the man who had purchased her autograph, saying she would like to find out who he was. To her delight, Mr. Gregg said, “I guess I can help you a little.”
The pharmacist told her that a man answering her description often came into the store to use the telephone. “I once heard somebody call him Pete, but I don’t know his last name. Today he rushed in and made a beeline for the booth. Didn’t close the door all the way. I happened to walk by just in time to hear him say ‘Everything’s jake. I got that girl’s autograph.’ ”
Nancy was so pleased over the clue she felt like cheering. But she merely expressed her appreciation and hurried from the drugstore.
The young detective went directly to police headquarters and told Chief McGinnis what had happened to her during the past hour and her suspicions regarding the man called Pete.
The chief listened attentively. “I’m glad you came, Nancy. I’ll assign some of my men right away to the job of trying to locate this Pete. I don’t promise anything, though, before you leave for Scotland.”
Nancy smiled. “The main thing is to catch him!” she said. “I’m convinced he’s mixed up with these mysterious events. If you do find him, or get any leads, be sure to let me know!”
She wrote down the names of the hotels in Glasgow and Edinburgh where she would be staying, and finally Lady Douglas’ address.
When Nancy reached home, Hannah told her that Ned had phoned. He wanted to come and say good-by to Nancy but would be busy all afternoon writing a report of his South American trip.
The housekeeper continued, “I took the liberty of inviting Ned to dinner. I thought you wouldn’t mind,” she added, winking.
Nancy gave the housekeeper a hug and went up to her own room to finish packing. There would be no chance that evening!
Ned arrived at six o’clock. “I hope you don’t mind my coming early, Nance,” he said. “I brought something to show you. I just couldn’t wait any longer for your reaction.”
He handed her the Evening Graphic. It was a sensational newspaper which normally would not have been p
urchased by Ned Nickerson or the Drews.
Nancy unfolded the paper and held it up. She gave a cry of utter astonishment. On the front page, in bold type, was the caption:
Autograph Snatcher Enrages
Girl Detective!
Below was a large and not flattering candid snapshot of Nancy chasing the mysterious man!
CHAPTER IV
“Scots, Wha Hae”
As NANCY stared in dismay at the newspaper, Ned remarked, “I thought you were keeping your sleuthing trip to Scotland a secret.”
“I was trying to!”
Ned pointed to the article. “This story tells everything—that you and your father are going to Scotland to solve the mystery of a lost heirloom which your great-grandmother planned to give you.”
“But how in the world did the Graphic get the story?” Nancy asked, puzzled.
“What about Bess and George?” Ned suggested.
Nancy was sure that the cousins had had nothing to do with revealing her secret. But she telephoned each one nevertheless to find out. Both stoutly denied having told anyone the girls’ plans except their parents. Mr. and Mrs. Marvin and Mr. and Mrs. Fayne also declared they had not mentioned the trip to any outsider.
Frowning, Nancy returned to Ned and read for herself the article in the newspaper. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed suddenly. “It even says the heirloom has been reported lost or misplaced by Lady Douglas.”
“I’ll bet,” said Ned, “that the story came from Scotland to somebody over here. And that somebody is the enemy who has been bothering you.”
Ned looked at Nancy intently for several seconds. Then he said, “Nancy, do you want to go to Scotland very much?”
“Of course I do. Why do you ask?”
To her astonishment, the young man revealed that just before leaving his home in Mapleton to come to River Heights, he had received an anonymous telephone call.
“A man, evidently disguising his voice, said to me, ‘If you expect to keep your girl friend alive, don’t let her go to Scotland!’ ”
The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes Page 2
