The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes

  “Yes, Miss Drew. Everything had been removed from the croft but the furniture.”

  Nancy’s heart sank. Another good lead had ended in failure!

  “What about the sheep?” she asked. “Did you learn whether or not they had been stolen?”

  “We did. A farmer has reported about fifty missing. He said they vanished like the little people of Fairy Bridge.”

  When Nancy returned to the other girls, she reported the latest news, then asked Fiona, “What did the man mean by the little people of Fairy Bridge?”

  The girl from Skye gave Nancy a whimsical look. “There is a legend that long ago a race of people, like sprites or Welsh leprechauns, lived not far from my home. They loved to play tricks, but when the giants—the big people—came around, the little people knew they could not cope with them. They always hid until it was safe for them to come out and cause some more innocent devilry. One of their hiding places was under a very ancient stone bridge which came to be known as the Fairy Bridge.”

  Nancy and her friends smiled, and Bess said with a sigh, “I wish we would meet charming characters like that nowadays instead of sheep and jewel thieves!”

  The girls walked around the garden, all chattering gaily except Nancy. Finally George said to her, “What’s on your mind, Nancy? I’ll bet you want to go back to that croft in the glen and do a little sleuthing yourself. But you’re afraid the police won’t approve.”

  “You’ve guessed it!”

  “Let’s go, anyhow!” George urged.

  Nancy said with a rueful grin, “I’ve had enough trouble with the police, but I’ll go if my great-grandmother gives her consent.”

  To her delight, Lady Douglas approved of the idea, saying, “I realize how real a detective you are, Nancy, and that you have three incentives—finding your missing heirloom, the sheep thieves, and now the worthless check passer. I know you feel the three mysteries are intertwined.” She kissed each of the girls in turn. “Best of luck to you all!”

  Fiona thought she could find a shortcut to the side of the mountain where they had seen the hidden glen. At her direction Nancy turned the car off the main road and onto a very lonely one. Presently the girls became aware of billowing smoke in the distance. As they rounded a bend they were startled to come upon a hillside of dry seedlings on fire.

  At once Fiona cried out, “We must get the brooms and beat it out!”

  CHAPTER XVII

  The Chase

  “BROOMS?” Bess echoed. “What do you mean, Fiona?”

  “You will see. Nancy, speed up! We must put out the fire before it spreads to the tall trees!”

  Nancy did not stop for questions. She raced the car along the road until Fiona said, “Slow down! The brooms are right ahead!”

  At the edge of the field was a wooden stand containing stout brooms. Nancy pulled over. Fiona hopped out and dashed to grab four of them. As she rejoined the others, the Scottish girl said the brooms were made of birch twigs, bound together with stout wire. “These are always kept handy for fire fighting.”

  Nancy quickly backed the car around and sped off. Fiona explained that anyone who spotted a brush fire was supposed to try putting it out. A few seconds later Nancy reached the scene of the burning seedlings.

  “We’ll separate and work on the outer edges,” Fiona ordered. “It may feel a little hot on your feet, but we can’t do anything about that.”

  The girls wielded the brooms vigorously on the burning hillside and within half an hour they had extinguished the centermost point of the blaze. The young fire fighters leaned on their brooms wearily. They had saved the big trees!

  “I’m sure glad that’s over!” said Bess. She would have liked to sit down and rest, but there was no place to do this.

  As the foursome trudged back to the road, they looked at one another. The girls’ faces were red and perspiring from the heat. Their hands were rough and beginning to show a few small blisters. Skirts and sweaters were dirty and the color of their shoes unrecognizable.

  George remarked, “We’re sure a sorry sight! 1 hope we don’t meet anybody.”

  Bess giggled. “You spoke too soon. Look who’s waiting for us!”

  A car had stopped behind Nancy’s and two police officers were standing in the road.

  “Anderson and Buchanan!” George exclaimed.

  When the girls, carrying their brooms, reached the roadway, the two men looked at them in astonishment. Nancy spoke up, giving Fiona all the credit for knowing what to do.

  “But the main thing is, you succeeded!” Buchanan said admiringly.

  “I’m glad we were here at just the right moment,” said Nancy, and started toward her car.

  Inspector Buchanan hesitated a moment, then walked up to her. “I’m sorry, Miss Drew, that I ever had any doubts about your honesty. I’m sure that no check forger would take time to stop and put out a forest fire.”

  Nancy smiled at him. “You were only doing your duty,” she said. “Let’s forget the whole thing, shall we?”

  Buchanan nodded and his companion grinned.

  Nancy and her friends climbed into the car and waved to the two men. Nancy drove off, leaving Anderson and Buchanan to make a final check of the fire scene.

  In a little while the girls reached a spot where Fiona suggested they park.

  “We’ll climb from here. I think I can find that glen with the croft where we saw the sheep.”

  The Scottish girl proved to be a good pathfinder and presently located a trail leading up the mountainside. Nancy figured that this probably was the route along which the stolen sheep were driven, then anesthetized and piled into a waiting truck.

  The girls kept a sharp lookout but saw no one. A few minutes later they reached the croft and began a search of the premises. Not a single clue came to light.

  “The only place we haven’t looked,” George said, “is in that heap of ashes in the dooryard.”

  She and Bess found long twigs and began to scatter the ashes. Underneath was a heap of unburned trash. It contained tin cans, banana peels, and bits of broken glass.

  “That phony shepherd who lived here was a good housekeeper, anyway!” said Bess. “He certainly tidied up this place.”

  The remark intrigued Nancy. She wondered why, if the man had intended to get away in a great hurry, he should have bothered to clean up.

  Bess was still delving and presently found a small canvas nailed to a board. On it was a conglomeration of colored paints. “What in the world is this?” she asked. After looking at it a moment, she tossed the canvas aside.

  Nancy picked it up. Since it was so foreign to the rest of the debris, she felt it might have some significance. No explanation came to her at the moment, so she decided to take the canvas along.

  The pile of rubbish was again put together and the ashes sprinkled over the top. Nancy said she thought it was time to call a halt to the investigation.

  “Let’s go home now.”

  During the ride back, Nancy was quiet and thoughtful. By the time they reached Douglas House, she had decided to try an experiment. After bathing and dressing, she went on a search and collected several hand mirrors.

  Later Fiona, Bess, and George found Nancy in Lady Douglas’ sitting room with her great-grandmother. The young sleuth was bending over a table. On it she had laid the canvas, with the mirrors propped up in a circle in the middle of it.

  “What on earth are you doing, Nancy?” Bess demanded.

  “I had a hunch,” her friend replied. “This canvas, which has various colors that don’t seem to depict anything, may have been painted like the picture we saw of Bonnie Prince Charlie in the museum. Remember? The one with the cylindrical mirror in the center which reflects the portrait of the prince?”

  The other girls nodded and peered into the mirrors. None of them could see anything like a picture. Lady Douglas examined the canvas, but could make nothing out of it.

  “I agree with Nancy, though, that this might have some signifi
cance,” she said. “But how else can we try to find out?”

  “Perhaps we have the wrong arrangement,” said Nancy. “Have you a circular glass object which I could make into a mirror?”

  Lady Douglas said she could not think of anything, but Nancy was welcome to look around the house and use whatever she could find.

  At once the young detective set off with the canvas. In a cupboard on the first floor she found a large goblet of clear glass.

  “Just the right size,” Nancy decided. “I hope my idea works.”

  She returned to her great-grandmother and asked if it would be all right to paint quicksilver on the inside of the goblet to make it serve as a mirror.

  “Yes, indeed, Nancy. Perhaps Tweedie can help you. He has all sorts of things cached away, and possibly may have some quicksilver.”

  Unfortunately Tweedie had none, so Nancy decided to drive into Fort William and purchase a small quantity of the coating.

  The other girls wanted to go along, so presently the foursome was on its way. As they turned into the main street, Nancy said excitedly, “Look! Isn’t that the red-bearded stranger in the car up ahead?”

  Her friends followed her glance. “Sure is!” George declared grimly. “He’s in a different car.”

  Nancy set her jaw. This time he was not going to get away from her! She memorized the license number of his car and then set out in pursuit.

  The man was driving fast and Nancy increased her own speed. For a few minutes she was afraid she might be stopped by some constable. But presently both cars were out of town and the chase continued.

  The red-bearded man seemed to know that he was being followed. He put on a tremendous burst of speed and raced down the road. Nancy kept right after him!

  The pursuit went on and on, southward, in the general direction of Loch Lomond.

  “Maybe he’s going to the houseboat!” Bess suggested when they were halfway there.

  George said she hoped he would stop there. “It’ll give me great pleasure to nab him and turn him over to the police!”

  Nancy took her eyes off the road for one second to look at her gas gauge. It registered empty!

  “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed in dismay. “I’ll have to stop for gas, and we’ll lose our man!”

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Unmasked

  THE words were hardly out of Nancy’s mouth when her car coughed and came to a halt. She groaned.

  George shrugged in resignation. “Well, that’s that! Anyway, Nancy, you can’t blame this car trouble on your unknown threateners!”

  Nancy did not answer. She slipped from the car and ran up the road to a house. A pleasant-looking woman answered her knock.

  As Nancy asked, “May I use your phone? I want to call the police,” the woman stared at her.

  Finally she smiled and said, “You’re the American girl detective, aren’t you? The one whose picture I saw on the cover of Photographie Internationale!”

  “For once I’m glad to be recognized,” said Nancy, smiling.

  The woman invited Nancy inside and motioned to a telephone on the hall table. Nancy asked her how to get the proper police office and soon was connected with the superintendent.

  “Yes, lass?”

  Nancy quickly reported that she was on the trail of a red-bearded man who, she thought, was a sheep thief. “Inspectors Anderson and Buchanan know me,” she added.

  “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.