Read The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes Online

Authors: Carolyn Keene

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Mystery & Detective, #Juvenile Fiction, #Women Detectives, #Girls & Women, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Women Sleuths, #Adventure Stories, #Drew; Nancy (Fictitious Character), #Mystery and Detective Stories, #Lost and Found Possessions, #Lost Articles - Scotland, #Scotland, #Heirlooms

The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes (14 page)

BOOK: The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes
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“Your story is very interesting,” said the police officer, who told her his name was MacNab.
Nancy explained how the suspect had eluded her. “Please, won’t you try to apprehend him?” She gave the license number of his car. “If you catch the man, will you hold him at headquarters until I can come and identify him?”
Mr. MacNab promised to follow her suggestion. “Perhaps you had better come here, anyway. I’d like to hear more of your story.”
Nancy assured him she would be there shortly, then, after receiving directions to police headquarters, said good-by. She next asked the kind woman, who said she was Mrs. Evans, how to telephone for petrol and this time was relieved of the chore by her accommodating hostess.
While they were waiting for the petrol to arrive, Mrs. Evans asked curiously about the red-bearded stranger Nancy was chasing. “Is he involved with some case you’re working on?”
Nancy answered as offhandedly as she could. “I’m staying at my great-grandmother’s outside of Fort William. As you may know, a good many sheep have been stolen from that area. I just happened to pick up a clue that might connect this man with the thieves. I thought it was worth reporting.”
The young detective’s explanation seemed to satisfy Mrs. Evans, who switched the conversation to Nancy’s great-grandmother. “I learned from the papers that you were going to visit Lady Douglas.”
Nancy laughed. “You may be interested to know also that a friend of mine entered my photograph in a contest and won a trip for two people. Those two are out in the car right now, and I must return to them.” Nancy opened her purse. “How much do I owe you for the phone calls?”
Mrs. Evans looked surprised. “Why, my dear lass, I would not think of taking any money. It has been very delightful to meet you and to be of service. It’s funny how people’s paths cross, isn’t it? In this case, an empty petrol tank brought you to me!”
She broke into a jolly laugh and accompanied Nancy to the car. At that moment a serviceman pulled up with a large container of petrol and poured the petrol into the tank. In the meantime, Nancy had introduced her friends to Mrs. Evans. Then, after paying the garageman, she thanked Mrs. Evans for her kindness and drove off.
When George noticed that Nancy did not turn around in the direction of Douglas House, she asked where they were going. Nancy grinned. “To the police office!”
When the girls entered the building, they could have cried out for joy. Their quarry had been apprehended! He was standing in front of Superintendent MacNab’s desk, declaring loudly, in a manner of speech which proclaimed him to be an American, that he was innocent.
“Sure as I’m Sandy Duff, I’ll make it hot for you if you don’t let me out of here!”
Bess, George, and Fiona took seats in the rear of the room as Nancy walked forward. Peering over the prisoner’s head, Mr. MacNab asked, “You are Miss Nancy Drew?”
At this, Sandy Duff wheeled and faced the girl detective. His face went white. The officer said, “I believe you know who Miss Drew is?”
Sandy Duff’s arrogance quickly returned. “I never saw her in my life!” he shouted.
At that moment a constable walked into the room. George hurried over to him and said in a low tone, “I think the prisoner is wearing false hair and whiskers.”
The constable smiled. He did not reply, but went up and whispered in Mr. MacNab’s ear.
“Aye? We shall soon see!”
His superior immediately ordered the constable to find out if the prisoner was wearing a wig. Sandy Duff objected strenuously, but to no avail. In a moment the officer was holding a red wig in his hands. The prisoner’s own hair was black! Next, the side whiskers and beard were pulled off.
Nancy was amazed. She cried out, “He’s Paul Petrie, from my home town!”
The excitement brought the other girls forward and everyone talked at once until the superintendent rapped for silence. He said, “Miss Drew, please tell us your story.”
Nancy started at the beginning, when the stranger, whom she learned later was named Paul Petrie, had purchased her autograph from a small boy. “I got a good look at Mr. Petrie at that time. That’s probably why I thought he seemed vaguely familiar when he followed me in Edinburgh. But that time, of course, he was wearing his disguise.”
The girl detective explained that she had come to Scotland hoping to trace an heirloom which she now suspected had been stolen by Paul Petrie or one of his associates.
“I didn’t do it!” the prisoner snarled.
Nancy paid no attention. She went on to relate how the sheep-stealing racket had come to her attention and that through having seen a secret code message she had traced the thieves first to a houseboat and then to a croft on Ben Nevis.
Paul Petrie’s face was livid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Nancy turned to Mr. MacNab. “One thing Mr. Petrie cannot deny is having my autograph in his possession. I suspect that the wife of one of the men in Petrie’s group is responsible for forging my name on checks. She herself may look like me or, if not, has been able to disguise herself in such a way that if questioned she could produce the magazine cover with my picture and carry out her scheme.”
The superintendent looked sternly at the prisoner. “What have you to say to this charge?”
“Nothing. There’s not a word of truth in any of it. I’m not Paul Petrie and I demand to be released.” He had no identification on him to prove who he was.
The police officer said he thought the evidence was strong enough against the man to warrant holding him without bail until the police had a chance to investigate his story and also that of Nancy Drew.
After the suspect had been led away, Mr. MacNab asked the young sleuth many more questions. He ended by saying, “You have done an excellent bit of detective work, Miss Drew.”
Praise embarrassed Nancy. Blushing, she said, “May I use your telephone? My friends and I were making a hurried trip into Fort William, and I know Lady Douglas expected us back soon. I am afraid she will be worried.”
“Aye, of course,” the officer said.
Nancy’s great-grandmother was so startled by the latest news that Nancy told her they would start home at once. But just as the girls were about to leave, the constable who had placed Petrie in a cell caught up to them. “The prisoner wants to make a bargain with you lassies,” he said.
“What is it?” Nancy asked.
“I do not know.”
The superintendent was informed of Petrie’s offer and said he himself would go to the cell with the girls and find out what the man meant. Petrie looked pleased when they arrived.
“Like I told you before, I’m not guilty of doing anything wrong,” he said, “but I do know where that missing heirloom is. If you’ll let me go, I’ll tell you.”
The astounded girls turned to Mr. MacNab. After all, it was his decision to make.
He replied firmly, “I certainly cannot release you at this time. But if you will reveal what you know about the missing heirloom, things may go easier for you.”
Paul Petrie shrugged. “Okay. Miss Drew, that man Tweedie at Lady Douglas’ house has the heirloom!”
CHAPTER XIX
The Enemy Spotted
 
 
 
“
TWEEDIE!”
Bess exclaimed, aghast.
“He
couldn’t have taken Nancy’s heirloom!”
Paul Petrie smirked. “You think that butler is honest, but you’ll find out to the contrary when you investigate.”
Nancy and her friends were thunderstruck by Petrie’s accusation. All were skeptical, but had to admit they knew little about the servant.
“We’d better get back and find out!” said George.
Nancy thought so too. The girls left the police office and hurried to their car. Nancy drove at a fast speed all the way to Fort William. Fiona hopped out of the car long enough to buy a bottle of quicksilver and a paintbrush, then the ride was continued.
As soon as they reached home, the four girls rushed to Lady Douglas’ suite and told her what they had heard.
“It cannot be true!” she said. “Tweedie has been here many, many years, and I have never had any reason to doubt his honesty.”
Nevertheless, she felt that she should question the man. Unsuspecting of what he was about to hear, Tweedie smiled pleasantly when he appeared and asked Lady Douglas what she wished.
“I am at a loss for words,” said Nancy’s great-grandmother, “but I feel I must find out something from you. A report has come to us that you have the topaz-and-diamond brooch meant for Miss Nancy.”
Tweedie went ash white and began to tremble. For several seconds he was speechless. Nancy felt sorry for the man and longed to help him, but she knew that this was Lady Douglas’ affair.
By now Tweedie had recovered his wits. “Lady Douglas,” he said with dignity, “I did not take the brooch. I know nothing about the pin. It is my belief that whoever accused me is covering up something himself.”
Lady Douglas smiled at her long-time servant. “I was sure this would be your reply. I never doubted you.”
Nancy now told Tweedie of having caught an American who, she believed, was in league with the sheep stealers. “I have a hunch that when the police obtain a confession from him and his friends, we will also get a clue to the missing heirloom.”
To show she had complete confidence in him, Nancy asked Tweedie if he would help her make a mirror out of a goblet. The man looked surprised, but when told that it might aid in producing a clue in the mystery, he was eager to help. In a short time the quicksilver had dried and the cylindrical mirror was ready to be put to use.
Lady Douglas, Tweedie, and the other girls were interested onlookers as Nancy placed the goblet mirror upside down in the center of the canvas board containing the conglomerate of paint. This time, Nancy could distinguish a tower of stones.
“Have you any idea what this could be?” she asked her great-grandmother.
After a little study, both Lady Douglas and Tweedie thought that the tower might be part of ancient stone ruins not far away.
“It is in a deserted area,” said Tweedie. “Would you like me to guide you girls there?”
“Oh, yes!” Nancy replied. “Since we found this picture where we know one of the sheep thieves was staying, I’m sure it has something to do with their work—it might even indicate another hideout!”
Plans were made for a trip early the following day. The girls learned that the ruins were called beehives because of their shape. They were also known as brochs, and dated back to prehistoric times.
Soon after breakfast the next morning the searchers set out. Tweedie directed Nancy onto a narrow, little-used country road and twenty minutes later the visitors got their first glimpse of the stone tower.
“It really is shaped like a beehive,” Bess remarked, “except it has no top.”
Nancy parked, and Tweedie led the girls across a meadow to view the ruins. The odd structure had no windows. It was made of varied sizes of fieldstones and stood about thirty feet high.
Tweedie said, “It must have been much higher at one time, and perfectly round. Only the front section is standing now.”
He led the way to a very narrow opening—the only one into the broch. The passage was barely two feet wide, and tunneled through the ten-foot-thick wall.
“This is an amazing sight,” Nancy remarked, looking at the circular, upcurving stonework.
At intervals there were oblong openings with stone slabs laid crosswise in them like floors.
“What were those little rooms used for?” Bess asked.
Tweedie replied that historians were not sure. Some thought that during times of enemy invasions, an entire village of people would crowd into the broch, seal off the entranceway, and live there until the danger was over.
“Probably a whole family lived in one of those rooms,” Tweedie continued. “Originally there was a circular staircase with a gallery at each level which permitted the inhabitants to go up and down. Also, they had a large hearth in the center for cooking. Now, I’ll show you something else.”
He led the girls around a low wall that was still standing and pointed out an entrance to a lower level. “That was where they had a well and got their water.”
George asked, “If the beehive was solid—how did those people get any air?”
Tweedie said that most scholars felt the top was open and ventilation was provided through a latticed roof with a veranda. “Some archaeologists even believe this was used as a living room.”
“Very cozy,” Bess commented. “But I’d still prefer hotel accommodations!”
The others laughed. Then Nancy’s thoughts turned to the mystery they were trying to solve. The girls looked around for clues but found none.
“There’s certainly no sign of anyone’s hiding out here,” Nancy said finally.
Fiona turned to Tweedie. “Isn’t there another broch up the road a ways?”
When he said Yes, Nancy urged that they go to see it. They reached this beehive a few minutes later and began investigating. Suddenly the young sleuth said excitedly, “Here are some bits of wool! And a piece of sheepskin!”
“You think the sheep thieves use this place?” Fiona asked.
“Yes,” said Nancy. “And this evidence indicates they are not taking away live sheep to butcher or sell. They want only the wool and skins.”
Bess groaned in distaste. “Ugh!” she said. “You mean the area around this broch might be a sheep graveyard?”
Nancy did not reply. She noticed that Tweedie had slipped away. She felt sure he was doing some investigating on his own, which proved to be true. He came back a few minutes later and announced that he had done a little digging with a sharp stone.
“I’m afraid this is indeed a sheep graveyard.”
The group was able to piece the whole operation together now. Apparently the thieves lured a flock into some hidden glen, put them to sleep, and transported them by truck to this broch. Here they killed the sheep, sheared and skinned them, took the meat, then buried the rest to avoid detection by the police.
BOOK: The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes
5.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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