The Clue Of The Whistling Bagpipes Part 3

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 sc.r.a.ps 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 sc.r.a.ps 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 PhotographieInternationale. On the cover was the picture of Nancy sleuthing with a magnifying gla.s.s.

"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!"