The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes

by Carolyn Keene

  It was Nancy’s turn to stare. She realized the gravity and danger of the situation, and though she assured Ned the threat would not keep her home, she admitted it made her very uneasy.

  “I’m going to phone the Graphic office,” Nancy declared. “They must know who’s responsible for this story, and the source of it.”

  The answer was quite unsatisfactory. The young woman who took Nancy’s call said that practically everybody in the news office had gone home and she was not at liberty to give out any information. In a bored tone she added, “Phone in the morning.” Then she hung up.

  During dinner the newspaper article and the sinister warning to Ned were discussed at length.

  “Did you notice the article didn’t say a theft is suspected?” Nancy remarked.

  “That’s right,” Mr. Drew agreed. “It seems strange that it didn’t mention such an idea.”

  His daughter suggested that it was possible the person who had given out the story knew the heirloom had been stolen. If everyone was led to believe the jewelry had been lost or misplaced, then neither the police nor anyone else would think of looking for a thief.

  “Good reasoning,” said Mr. Drew.

  Nancy turned to Ned. “Since we’re leaving early in the morning, I won’t be able to find out anything from the Graphic before we go. How about your taking on that job?”

  Ned laughed. “Wouldn’t you be surprised if I solved the mystery on this side of the ocean?”

  Nancy giggled. “I dare you! But anyway, I’m sure you will play a big part in doing just that!”

  “Thanks for your confidence, Detective Drew,” Ned replied. “Any further assignments?”

  “Perhaps. There is something you should know.” She told about the bomb and the shattered note in the mailbox.

  As Ned whistled in astonishment, Nancy went on, “I made a tracing of the note. Before you go I’ll give it to you. Maybe you can find the person who wrote it.”

  Nancy also told Ned about Johnny Barto. “If you have a chance, you might drive over to see him.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Later, as he was about to say good night to Nancy, Ned told her he was spending the night with an aunt in town and would drive the Drews, Bess, and George to the airport. “Wonderful! We’ll be ready on the dot of seven.”

  Next morning Ned arrived promptly, and helped stow the Drews’ baggage. Nancy gave Hannah Gruen an affectionate hug and kiss, then they were off.

  Bess and George were waiting on the sidewalk outside the Marvin home with their bags. When the three girls were settled in the rear seat, they looked at one another and burst into laughter.

  Bess said, “We’re three bluebirds!” The cousins and Nancy wore navy-blue coats and shoes.

  Under Nancy’s coat was a dark-blue-and-green striped sports dress which set off the shade of her hair to perfection. Blond Bess wore a two-piece powder-blue suit, while George had on a navy skirt and tailored white blouse.

  At the airport Ned exchanged good-bys with the girls and Mr. Drew. To Nancy the youth whispered, “Don’t forget—be back by June tenth!”

  She gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll do my best!”

  Not long afterward, the plane took off for New York. During the trip Nancy brought her chums up to date on the mystery.

  “It sounds dangerous to me!” said Bess. “I’ll concentrate on the beautiful scenery of Scotland.”

  George retorted, “And while you’re daydreaming, one of the villains may sneak up from behind and kidnap you, fair cousin!” Bess looked worried, but Nancy grinned.

  Upon their arrival in New York, Mr. Drew announced that he had business to attend to and would have to meet the girls just before the evening plane took off for Scotland.

  “You’re going up to see your Aunt Eloise, aren’t you, Nancy?” he asked.

  “Yes, I am. Bess and George are going along.”

  Miss Eloise Drew, a schoolteacher, was Mr. Drew’s sister. She was exceedingly fond of Nancy and her friends, and often entertained them. Nancy had phoned her aunt, who was having a half-holiday. When the three girls arrived at her uptown apartment, the tall, attractive woman, who looked very much like Nancy, welcomed the trio warmly.

  “It’s wonderful to see you! I do wish you could stay longer,” she said.

  Nancy grinned. “Since we can’t, we’ll just have to talk fast and cover a lot of ground!”

  News was exchanged and Miss Drew was horrified to hear of possible dangers awaiting Nancy in Scotland. “Promise me you won’t take any chances,” she begged.

  As Nancy did so, Miss Drew got up, opened a table drawer, and took out a long, narrow ebony object. Chuckling, she said, “This is a chanter from a bagpipe. Recently I attended a performance of bagpipe players and dancers, so I decided it would be fun trying to play a tune on one of these.”

  “How thrilling!” cried Bess. “Please play it.”

  Miss Drew laughed. She took out an instruction book, put the instrument to her lips, and played a tuneful phrase. “That’s the first part of Scots, Wha Hae,” she explained.

  “Why, Aunt Eloise, you’re marvelous!” said Nancy. “By the way, what does Scots, Wha Hae mean?”

  With a twinkle in her eye, Aunt Eloise recited the first two lines of the song, using the broad Scottish accent of the lowlands:

  “‘Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled,

  Scots, wham Bruce has aften led.”’

  Miss Drew told them that the song was composed by Robert Burns, the Scottish poet, to commemorate the Battle of Bannockburn fought in 1314. “Unfortunately,” she added, “the battles were very bloody. The words mean:

  “‘Scots, who have bled with Wallace,

  Scots, whom Bruce has often led.’ ”

  “May I try the chanter?” Nancy requested.

  “Yes, indeed, but first I’ll show you what the notes are and how you hold your fingers.”

  Nancy adjusted her hands properly, then Aunt Eloise said, “Now just blow into the chanter, raising your various fingers. Don’t try any tunes until you get used to moving your fingers.”

  At first Nancy could not hold the chanter and play it at the same time, so her aunt suggested that she sit down and let the lower end of the instrument rest in her lap. In a few moments Nancy was playing the scales quite creditably. She asked Bess and George if they would like to take a turn, but both declined.

  “I dare you to try Scots, Wha Hae,” George teased.

  “Play it first without the grace notes,” Miss Drew advised. “Of course, they’re what give the charm to the music of bagpipes.”

  In a few minutes Nancy was playing the melody of Scots, Wha Hae, and after some more practice she was able, by following the instruction book, to add the grace notes to the first phrase.

  “Why, it really sounds like something!” said Bess. “I never thought you’d do it!”

  Nancy was quite pleased herself. “I’ll try it again later.” She grinned.

  Just before the girls said good-by to Aunt Eloise, Nancy picked up the chanter and played the first phrase of Scots, Wha Hae several times.

  Her aunt laughed. “It’s a nice way to spend time,” she said. “Perhaps while you’re in Scotland you can learn more tunes.”

  “I doubt it,” said George. “If Nancy’s to find her missing heirloom and the men who are stealing sheep, she’ll be kept much too busy!”

  “I wish you every success,” said Aunt Eloise. “But again, girls, please be careful.”

  Nancy and her friends hurried back to International Airport. Mr. Drew was waiting and they immediately boarded the plane. It was a luxuriously furnished one, with comfortable seats. Dinner was served, and shortly afterward the girls settled back to go to sleep. Their arrival in Scotland was scheduled for six A.M. by Greenwich time equivalent to one A.M. in the eastern part of the United States.

  As passengers awakened, George found it very difficult to arouse Bess. She was completely confused as to where she was, and insisted that it wa
s not yet time to get up.

  Finally, however, when she saw rolls and hot drinks being served, Bess became her cheerful self. Often teased about her weight, she frequently declared, “I’m going to begin dieting—tomorrow.”

  The girls were just starting breakfast when suddenly the plane began to toss violently. The girls felt a chill of fear. Had something gone wrong with the jetliner?

  CHAPTER V

  An Angry Guest

  THE plane continued its tossing. Bess, speechless with fear, closed her eyes, while Nancy and George gripped their chair arms.

  As cups and dishes flew in every direction, their contents spattered passengers and seats. Then the jetliner suddenly leveled off.

  The captain explained apologetically, “Our automatic pilot is malfunctioning. We will continue our journey on manual control.”

  The girls heaved sighs of relief. There were no more scares and soon the plane was circling in for a landing at Prestwick International Airport.

  “We’re in Scotland!” George exulted. “Now our sleuthing begins!”

  Bess frowned. “Oh, George! Can’t we enjoy this lovely country without being reminded of villains?”

  The others laughed as they walked into the terminal to claim their bags and have their passports checked. When they left the building, Mr. Drew hailed a taxi. Its driver, a man of about forty, had black hair, high color, and a pleasant smile. He said his name was Donald Clark. Mr. Drew asked him to drive them to Glasgow, and climbed in front.

  The three girls, seated in the rear, were delighted with Donald’s broad accent and keen sense of humor. As he pointed out various sights, he would sometimes quote from Robert Burns’s poems.

  “Ye must get up to Bobby’s cottage,” he said. “And up there ye’ll be seein’ the Brig o’ Doon.”

  “Oh, that’s the famous bridge Tam o’ Shanter rode over, isn’t it?” Nancy asked.

  “That it be.” Donald chuckled. “A man can think of funny things when he lets his imagination get the better of him. Poor Tam—he near killed his naig makin’ him go sae fast to get awa’ frae the witch hangin’ on to his tail.”

  As the taxi reached the outskirts of Glasgow, Nancy and the cousins were intrigued by the numerous flocks of sea gulls. Donald told them that the birds followed the ocean-going ships to eat refuse thrown overboard. The girls were also interested in the rows of old stone houses with their many clay chimney pots. On one house they counted nine!

  When Nancy mentioned this to Donald, he told her that the houses had no central heating. Each room had its own fireplace.

  “And the apartment houses—you can look right through the center hall to the rear garden,” Nancy remarked.

  The taxi driver grinned. “Most of my American passengers have never heard of our open closes and closed closes,” he said.

  When Mr. Drew and the girls looked utterly blank, Donald added, “Our tenements—ye call them apartment houses—have a common entrance, called a close. If it has a door, it’s a closed close. If it has no door, it’s an open close.”

  Nancy remarked with a smile, “I see we have a great deal to learn in your country. We shall probably find ourselves making mistakes and people misunderstanding us.”

  “Aye, and that ye will!” Donald assured them.

  He drove his passengers to an attractive hotel next to the railroad station and they alighted. Nancy, Bess, and George waited patiently in the lobby while Mr. Drew went up to the reservations desk to announce their arrival. After nearly ten minutes had gone by, Nancy wondered what was causing the delay. To her surprise, her father seemed to be arguing with the clerk. She overheard the lawyer say, “But you have my cable!”

  Finally the clerk shrugged, produced two keys, and summoned a porter. On the way up in the elevator, Mr. Drew explained to the girls that apparently the hotel had marked his reservation Dewar, pronounced Dew-ar, instead of Drew. The lawyer’s room was some distance up the hall from the one the girls would be occupying.

  “After we unpack, I’ll get in touch with you about my day’s plans,” he said as they stepped from the elevator.

  Nancy, Bess, and George were delighted with their room. It was large and tastefully furnished. There was an adjoining bath, and Bess declared she had never seen such big Turkish towels in her life. “They must be seven feet long!” she exclaimed.

  Nancy, meanwhile, had gone to the bureau and opened the top drawer to put away some clothes. Staring up at her was a very strange note.

  “George! Bess! Come here!” she called. “The mystery has followed us!”

  The cousins dashed to Nancy’s side and stared at the paper. “What kind of message is that?” asked George, and read aloud the strange words:

  “‘RATHAD DIG GLAS SLAT LONG

  MALL BEAN BALL GUN AIL.’”

  “And what weird drawings!” Bess remarked.

  In the upper left-hand corner of the paper was a bagpipe. Opposite this was a cradle in the form of a boat. And at the lower left, crowding the margin, was what looked to be a part of a one-story modern building.

  Bess burst into laughter. “Mystery nothing! Some kid who stayed in this room made it.”

  George nodded. “The words sure sound like baby talk.”

  Nancy was inclined to disagree, but before she could comment, the room telephone rang. She answered it, expecting the caller to be her father. To her surprise, the desk clerk was on the wire. His voice sounded excited.

  “Is this Miss Drew?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m most frightfully sorry,” he said, “but I have given you and your friends the wrong room. I will send up a porter at once for your bags. He will take you to your new room.”

  When Nancy reported this to the others, Bess sighed. “I’m glad I didn’t start unpacking. But I’m surprised that a hotel as fine as this one would make such a mistake.”

  Nancy went back to concentrate on the note. Her photographic mind made a mental picture of it and she memorized the strange words.

  As the young sleuth closed the bureau drawer she said, “This note may have been intended for the person who is coming into this room.”

  “You mean it’s in code?” George asked.

  “It could be,” Nancy answered.

  By this time the porter had arrived with a baggage truck. The girls’ new quarters were still farther down the hall in the opposite direction from Mr. Drew’s room. After the trio was settled, Nancy remarked, “I’ll have to tell my father we’ve moved.” To the porter, she said, “Did Mr. Dewar show up to claim that room we left?”

  “Yes, ma’am, he did, and he was black wi’ rage when he learned ye’d been in his room!”

  Bess laughed. “I suppose he thought we’d dropped face powder all over the place!”

  Nancy doubted that this was the cause of his annoyance. She could not get the strange note out of her mind. Had Mr. Dewar’s anger been caused by fear that the girls had seen it? The note might be a secret message meant only for him! Later she discussed this theory with her father at the luncheon table.

  “That’s possible,” the lawyer agreed. “But even in perfectly legitimate business deals, codes are often used, so this may not indicate that anything is wrong.”

  Nancy was not convinced. “The note that was left in our mailbox in River Heights said ‘Drew is going to bomb you.’ Do you suppose that the person who tried to warn us got Dewar and Drew mixed up?”

  “My goodness, Nancy!” said George. “Your theories certainly are way out today!”

  Bess leaned forward. “There’s one person who is mighty interested in what you’re saying. That man at the table near us—the one who’s alone. He has been trying hard to hear every word.”

  Nancy turned to get a look at the stranger. He was about forty years of age, well built, and had a noticeably reddish complexion. Now he quickly averted his gaze, hastily signed his check, and left the table.

  Nancy’s group had practically finished eating and she asked to be excused. Be
fore the waitress could pick up the check on the stranger’s table, Nancy sidled past and took a look at the check. The man had scribbled on it the number of the room which the girls had just vacated!

  “He must be Mr. Dewar,” Nancy thought. The others met her in the lobby and she told them of her discovery. The stranger was not around.

  “You may be on a completely wrong trail, Nancy,” Mr. Drew said. “I advise you not to jump to conclusions about this man. I’m going to start on my business conferences this afternoon. Why don’t you girls rent a car and do some sightseeing?”

  “All right,” Nancy agreed. “Where do you suggest that we go?”

  “How about asking the head porter? He’ll know the interesting spots and can give you the name of a rental agency. Perhaps he’ll even engage a car for you and have it brought to the door.”

  After her father had left, Nancy approached the porter’s desk. She made her request and the man said he would be very glad to make the arrangements. He asked Nancy to wait while he telephoned about hiring a small car.

  “Do you have an international driver’s license?” the porter asked.

  “Yes.”

  He telephoned to an agency which promised to deliver a small car to the hotel within half an hour.

  “Have you ever been to Loch Lomond?” the porter asked the girls. Learning that they had not, he said he would recommend visiting the loch as a highlight of their tour. “On the way,” the man added, “I suggest a stop at the University of Glasgow, which is old and famous. And take your raincoats. Scotland’s weather is apt to change quickly.”

  The porter brought out a map and penciled directions before handing it to Nancy.

  “I hope you have a good time,” he said. “And don’t forget the left-side-of-the-road driving.”

  Nancy assured him she would be very careful. Half an hour later the three girls were in the car and setting off for the university. The campus was extensive and the gray stone buildings impressive. They were very symmetrical, with a fine balance of towers.