The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes (7 page)

“What!” the three exclaimed in horror.

The guide explained there was a small recess in the wall of the first chamber they had entered, where prisoners of old had been suffocated in seven minutes by a huge stone being placed across the opening. The stone was still there on the floor.

He and the visitors raced pell-mell into the dungeon and went straight to the suffocation recess. The great stone lay on the ground. Nancy was not inside!

Mr. Drew heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness!” he said. “Somehow Nancy must have gone out without any of us noticing.”

As the group hurried back up the steps, the guide admitted he had been gone for a few minutes from the place at which he had posted himself to await their return. To their intense relief, they saw Nancy approaching them from the main entrance of the castle. The guide went off.

“Nancy, you scared us silly!” cried Bess. “Where have you been?”

The young sleuth quickly explained. “When you all were at the far end of the dungeon, I went back partway to look at something. Just then I saw a man come down the steps and walk toward me. He was that autograph snatcher in River Heights—the man named Pete!”

“Are you sure?” George asked unbelievingly.

“I’m positive!” Nancy answered. “As soon as he saw me, he turned and ran like mad. I tore after him but couldn’t catch him. Right outside the entrance gate he jumped into a car that looked like the one that nearly hit us on the way to Loch Lomond. It sped off, but I’m sure the driver was the person we know as Mr. Dewar.”

“So those two are in league!” said George. “That proves they’re up to no good, and somehow you Drews are involved.”

All this time, Bess had been staring wide-eyed at Nancy. Finally she told of the mumbling the guide had heard, and added gloomily, “I’ll bet that man Pete would’ve pushed you into that seven-minute suffocation chamber when you weren’t looking!”

George laughed scornfully. “Ridiculous! With all of us around! Nancy, why do you think he dared come into the dungeon and risk being seen?”

“My hunch is, George, that he was sent to eavesdrop on our conversation and any plans we may have. He was taken by surprise when he saw me looking directly at him.”

Mr. Drew remarked that their enemies must be watching every move. “I guess your suspicions about Mr. Dewar are confirmed,” the lawyer said to Nancy. “He must have overheard you girls talking in your hotel room, so he checked out ahead of us and followed Donald’s car. From now on I guess you three had better talk in whispers!”

Mr. Drew asked Nancy if she had caught the license number of the fleeing car.

“Yes, I did,” she said. “A guard at the castle entrance let me telephone the police. They checked, and told me it was a rented car and that after what had happened the men probably would abandon it very soon.”

George was angry. “It seems to me that every time we get near a solution—poof! It goes up in smoke!”

“Why didn’t the guards stop Pete at the entrance gate?” Bess asked Nancy.

Nancy shrugged her shoulders. “I guess it all happened too fast.”

The group walked to Donald’s car and climbed in. They said nothing to him about the recent episode, and soon they were relaxing and enjoying his delightful talk. Presently he stopped in a pleasant spot by a shaded brook, called a burn.

“What a perfect picnic place!” Bess said.

Later, while they were eating, Donald asked, “Do ye know about the old town in Scotland where everybody had the same last name?”

“You’re kidding!” said Bess.

“Nae, and that I am not,” Donald replied. “The name was MacKenzie, but the people there all called one another by nicknames. Some of them were pretty daft. Once a fellow came down from the church steeple on ropes, so they called him ‘The Flyer.’ The chemist was nicknamed ‘Shake the Bottle’ and the barber—well, he got the name ‘Soapy’!”

Everyone laughed, and George remarked facetiously, “I suppose the town carpenter was called ‘Nails.’ ”

“We call him a joiner,” said Donald. He chuckled. “If he dinna’ join things right and hit his thumb, we’d call him stupid!”

The picnic ended and the debris was put back into the lunch box to be disposed of later. The sightseers resumed their journey. As they went through the town of Falkirk somewhat later, Donald turned east toward the Firth of Forth.

George said, “In our country, I suppose we would call this a bay,” and Mr. Drew nodded.

When they reached Bo’ness, Donald drew up before a large brown stone plaque wedged into the hillside. On it was a long inscription in Latin.

“This was one of the Roman walls,” said the Scotsman. “It originally ran for thirty miles from here to the River Clyde. The wall was twelve feet high, and a deep trench was built on the enemy’s side to keep soldiers from climbing over the wall.”

Nancy was endeavoring to make out the somewhat faint letters in the inscription, and managed to learn that the wall had been built during the reign of the Roman Emperor, Antoninus Pius.

“Oh, dear!” Bess gave a sigh. “It seems to me that all day long I’ve been learning about wars, bloodshed, and horrible punishments.”

Donald looked at her understandingly. “Perhaps we should go. I promise not to tell another story about cruelty today.”

Bess smiled. “Thanks!”

When they were seated in the car once more and heading toward Edinburgh, Donald asked, “Did ye ever hear about the naval commander who was ordered to anchor his ship at the Forth Bridge?”

The others shook their heads and Donald went on, “Actually, the Forth Bridge runs from outside of Edinburgh across the Firth. Well, this captain kept goin’ and goin’ and finally radioed back: ‘Where is the
fourth
bridge? I can only find one!’ ”

“Good story!” said Nancy as everyone chuckled.

In a few minutes Donald said, “Schoolboys in Scotland are given a riddle. ‘How many inches in the Forth?’

“They guess varying depths of water but are finally told, ‘There are only seven.’ Of course they all say no big ships could travel in seven inches of water. Then the person who is teasing them will say, ‘But an inch, laddie, is an island!’ ”

“Oooh!” cried Bess. “Donald, how could you?”

Their driver grinned, then stopped talking, since traffic was becoming heavy. By the time they reached Edinburgh the evening rush hour was at its height. The streets were crowded with pedestrians and vehicles.

The American visitors admired the fine buildings and the extremely clean streets. “Isn’t this a lovely city!” Nancy murmured.

Donald drove up the broad main avenue, with its attractive shops on one side and lovely park on the other. On a hill beyond stood the imposing castle. Presently the group reached the hotel where they were to stay. Like the one in Glasgow, it was next to the huge railroad station.

The four travelers were genuinely sorry to say good-by to Donald. “Thank you for a wonderful trip,” said Nancy. The others expressed their appreciation also.

“‘Twas a pleasure driving ye.” Donald grinned. “I wish ye all luck and happiness.”

With that, he waved and drove off. Mr. Drew and the girls entered the hotel. In a lounge off the lobby, tea was being served. “Just what I need after that long ride,” Bess declared, eyeing the luscious-looking pastries contained in a multiple-tiered cart. She walked into the room.

The other girls followed, while Mr. Drew registered for them all and sent the baggage to their rooms. They spent the next half hour eating the various dainty cakes and sipping the delicious tea.

When they had finished, George said, “Mr. Drew, there’ll be only three of us at dinner tonight.” When he inquired why, the girl’s eyes twinkled and she answered, “Bess has had hers!”

“That’s what you think!” her cousin retorted. “Two hours from now I’ll be ready for seven courses!”

Nancy giggled. “They may serve only four!”

A little later they all went upstairs to the girls’ room. As Nancy unlocked the door, the telephone was ringing. When she answered, the operator said, “Miss Drew? ... I have an overseas call for you. One moment, please.”

In a few seconds a young man’s voice came over the wire and Nancy almost shrieked, “Ned!”

Bess and George grinned and nodded their heads knowingly. After an exchange of excited greetings, Ned said to Nancy, “Detective Nickerson is calling to report to Detective Drew. I have some news for you. I got hold of the Graphic reporter who wrote the story that went with your picture. He finally broke down and said he had learned of your plans from a man named Pete. I did some sleuthing and found out that Pete’s full name is Paul Petrie!”

“Oh, marvelous!” exclaimed Nancy. “Who
is
this Mr. Petrie?”

“He lives in town. Petrie has never been in trouble with the police, but I learned that he isn’t very well regarded. Had a few near brushes with the law when some of his checks bounced.”

“Ned, that’s clever detecting!” Nancy exclaimed.

“Wait until you hear what else I have to tell you. It’s
really
big news! Nancy, I tracked down the person who wrote that warning note about the bomb!”

 

 

 

As Nancy listened eagerly, Ned told her how he had located the writer of the warning note. “I studied your tracing of the writing. First, like you, I was sure a woman had written the words. You may remember Professor Webster at Emerson. Along with teaching archaeology, he’s a handwriting expert. He and I have had many discussions about how the formation of letters is an indication of one’s character.”

“You mean,” said Nancy, “a bold, vertical handwriting usually belongs to a literary person and jerky, slanted-to-the-right letters are a sign of nervousness?”

“Exactly. After studying the note you received, I figured it had been written by a somewhat shy, motherly person, probably elderly. From the type of paper used, I deduced she lived in a middle-income area of town and might shop locally. So I hounded the markets and kept my eyes open.”

“And you found her that way?” Nancy asked.

Ned chuckled. “Sure did.” He had taken a young cousin of his along to the various stores. “We stayed near the check-out counter,” Ned went on. “Whenever an elderly woman came up to the cashier, we’d start talking about bombs and watch her reaction. Finally, in one supermarket, we saw a woman tremble violently, and asked her point-blank about the note. She admitted putting it in your mailbox.”

“You’re simply a genius!” Nancy exclaimed. “Go on!”

“This woman, Mrs. Morrison, runs a small rooming house. There are several within the block and many strangers come and go. But one day Mrs. Morrison was just about to close a window which opens onto an alleyway, when she heard two men talking below. One said he had had orders from Mr. Drew to use a bomb on the girl detective and her father.”

“What else did she hear?” Nancy asked excitedly.

“That was about all, except the words ‘He’s a lawyer.’ Mrs. Morrison looked out, but by this time the men had gone. She couldn’t make up her mind whether they were serious or not. She was tempted to call the police, but decided against it.”

“What did Mrs. Morrison do?”

“She casually inquired of the cashier in the supermarket if she knew of any girl detectives in town. When she heard there was one by the name of Nancy Drew, whose father was a lawyer, Mrs. Morrison became more puzzled than ever, and wondered if some family feud was being carried on between Drew and Drew.

“Finally,” Ned went on, “Mrs. Morrison decided to write the warning note anonymously. She put it in your mailbox, rang the bell, and hurried away.”

Nancy again praised Ned for his fine sleuthing. Then she told him about her own adventures in Scotland and of the man named Dewar.

“I’m sure now that what Mrs. Morrison overheard was the name Dewar,” Nancy added.

Bess and George, meanwhile, having caught snatches of Ned’s big news, could hardly wait for Nancy to finish the conversation. At last she put down the phone and told them.

“At dinner I’m going to ask Dad if we shouldn’t notify the police.”

“Well, I think it’s about time!” said George. “The idea of that horrid Mr. Dewar trying to injure you—maybe even kill you!”

“But why would anyone want to go to such lengths?” Bess queried.

Nancy shrugged. “I figure Mr. Dewar must be the head of a gang. He’s probably carrying on some kind of underhanded scheme that he doesn’t want my dad and me to investigate.” The young sleuth added that since one suspect, Petrie, had been in River Heights and now had met Dewar in Scotland, it was her guess that the whole affair had something to do with smuggling.

With a sigh, Bess said, “We started out with a nice little mystery. Now we’re mixed up with smugglers and bomb-planters and goodness knows what else!”

Nancy and George laughed. In a few minutes Mr. Drew knocked on the girls’ door and the group went downstairs to dinner. Nancy told him what she had learned from Ned. Mr. Drew agreed that the police should be notified, and Nancy did this directly after the meal. She included all aspects and possible clues in the mystery so far. The chief constable promised to try to apprehend Mr. Dewar for questioning.

The following morning the group went to church. On their return to the hotel, Nancy called headquarters once more. The superintendent on duty said, “We have no news of Mr. Dewar, but we did follow up your tip on the houseboat. I guess you were right about the occupants. By the time we got there last evening the men had left.

“Neighbors told us that earlier they had moved many large boxes and packages to a truck waiting on the road. Sounds suspicious to me. Evidently they wanted to make everything look honest, because they left money on a table with a printed note: ‘This is for the rent.’ ”

The officer went on, “Too bad we got there so late. All the police of Scotland have been alerted. I am sure Mr. Dewar will be picked up, as well as his friend Paul Petrie.”