Читать книгу Nancy's Mysterious Letter - Walter Karig - Страница 7

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As soon as Nancy shifted to high gear she switched her lights from “parking” to “bright.” When the car gathered speed Nancy noticed that the left headlight was flickering.

“Bother!” she exclaimed to herself. “That lamp is going to burn out in a second.”

Instinctively she slowed down, whereupon the light burned brightly once more.

“Perhaps it is only loose,” Nancy thought. “I’d better look at it.”

She drew up to the curb. The wind, roaring out of the northwest, rushed down the street, sending a swirling mass of leaves and papers before it. Nancy felt something flat and hard strike one cheek, as she stepped out, and saw a white object fall to the roadway.

She stooped and picked it up.

“Gracious, it’s my letter!” she said aloud. “Now, where in the world did it come from?”

Folding the stiff envelope twice Nancy stuffed it back into her pocket and put her gloves on top of it to hold it secure.

Examination of the headlight proved her surmise to be correct, that the bulb was only loose in its socket. With that little matter remedied Nancy started homeward again and reached her goal without further difficulty. She put the car in the garage beside her father’s more expensive coupé, and entered the house through the rear door.

Hannah was leaning over the stove, ladling out soup.

“Dinner ready in five minutes,” the faithful old housekeeper said.

“I’ll be down as soon as I wash and run a comb through my hair,” Nancy called over her shoulder. “And the air has given me an appetite like a pack of wolves.”

Carson Drew was waiting behind his daughter’s chair when Nancy, tidied and refreshed, entered the dining room. She greeted her parent with a kiss, her eyes shining with pride. Nancy was proud of her father; proud not only of his ability and accomplishments, but also of his distinguished and handsome appearance.

“George and Bess were telling me that old Dixon had an unfortunate experience here this afternoon,” Mr. Drew said, as he ate his savory soup.

“Yes, I took him to the post office. The postmaster was very rude and loud, and said the robbery was really my fault,” Nancy said.

“Cutter is a bumptious fellow,” Mr. Drew commented. “Please pass me the salt, Nancy. What is your theory on the robbery?”

“I haven’t made up my mind,” Nancy replied. “I suspect Mr. Dixon’s half-brother, who has been trying to get a part of the old man’s little inheritance, of some spite work.”

“Does Dixon agree with you there or haven’t you mentioned it to him?” Mr. Drew asked.

“I did,” Nancy said succinctly. “And he doesn’t.”

“Has it occurred to you that the robbery might have been committed to embarrass us?” Mr. Drew suggested. “It will look rather strange in certain newspapers that Miss Nancy Drew called the mailman into the house a few minutes for the first time of their long acquaintanceship, and then suddenly his pouch is stolen.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Nancy admitted.

“I have just been appointed special State’s Attorney to prosecute the Carvell Ring,” Mr. Drew said. “You remember the river dredging scandal, don’t you? The appointment was announced by the governor this morning. It may be that this robbery will prove an attempt to discredit me.”

Nancy pondered this while Hannah changed the plates and brought in the roast.

“I don’t know, Father,” she said at last. “It just doesn’t seem like the sort of trick a political gang would commit. Mr. Dixon was near the end of his route. No one of any great importance lives beyond us. He turns down the next street and at the end of the block he winds up with the two or three houses in Wheelwright Alley—not more than a dozen houses in all.

“There would be no way of making it appear you were trying to intercept important mail, you see.

“I’m convinced that the robbery was to injure Dixon, and not you. There are dozens of ways for crooks to try to attack your legal reputation, but this is the only way Dixon could be harmed.”

“A sound argument and good reasoning,” smiled Nancy’s father. “You’ll be a lawyer some day and find yourself a Congresswoman, if you don’t watch out.”

Nancy laughed at the mental picture of herself in Washington.

“Speaking of lawyers, I got a letter from an English firm today,” she said.

“An English firm? What did they have to say?”

“I haven’t been able to find out,” Nancy said.

“So they wrote you in a foreign language?” Mr. Drew laughed.

“No, no!” Nancy corrected him. “I just haven’t had a chance to open the letter. A dozen times I’ve started to rip the envelope and something always turned up to prevent me. It is in my coat pocket. It has waited this long, so it can wait until after dinner.”

“The letter was for you, you say, and not for me?” Mr. Drew inquired. “It was not from Bannister & McLean, by any chance?”

“No, it was from Somebody, Lincoln, Somebody & What’s-his-name,” Nancy smiled. “A great, long name I can’t remember.”

“Probably somebody has unearthed the fact that we are lineal descendants of William the Conqueror and you are being offered the crown of Great Britain for a price,” Mr. Drew teased. “Well, never mind. How about another piece of this veal?”

“No, thanks, Dad,” Nancy said. “But tell me this. Will they try to send Mr. Dixon to jail if the mail is not recovered?”

“I scarcely think so,” Mr. Drew answered. “He will probably be dismissed from the service, and his pension forfeited.”

“I think that is too bad,” Nancy cried. “After all those years with a perfect record, too, for his work!”

“I feel sorry for the man,” Mr. Drew said, “and I’ll be glad to do what I can to help clear him. Tell him, if you see him again, to feel perfectly free to call upon me for any legal advice.”

“That’s good of you,” Nancy said. “I did not expect you would do less.”

“And now, what’s for dessert?”

“Apple-turnover, made from some fresh fruit from Red Gate Farm,” Nancy announced. “George and Bess and I came back with the roadster loaded with delicious things! Tomorrow we’ll have fresh pumpkin pie!”

Dessert and coffee finished, father and daughter left the table.

“I just want to glance over the evening papers, and then I’ll have to lock myself in with the papers in the Carvell indictments,” Mr. Drew said. “Will you excuse me, Nancy? You see very little of your father these days, but even so, think of him with kindness, won’t you, dear?”

“Oh, if you’ll just drop me a postcard from time to time,” Nancy teased. “A view of the courthouse, maybe, or of the Lawyers’ Building. And speaking of postcards makes me think of my letter again. This time I am going to open it and read it, even though there should be an earthquake, a flood, an attack by Indians and a broken leg!”

Nancy walked into the hall to the coat closet, and from her pocket withdrew the mysterious letter. She could not get her finger under the flap, and the paper was of such excellent quality she could not tear open the envelope.

“I’ll have to ask Dad for his knife,” she thought, and approached her parent, who was half hidden behind the Evening News-Banner.

“I have the letter and I shan’t put it down, but I can’t open it,” Nancy said. “May I have your knife, please?”

Without taking his eyes from the paper Mr. Drew plunged a hand into a trouser pocket, took out his knife and passed it to his daughter.

“You ought to see what the editor of this paper says about my appointment,” he chuckled. “Let me read you a line or two. ‘In appointing Carson Drew a special State’s Attorney to prosecute the—’ Hello! Somebody at the door?”

The front door-bell broke in with a sharp peal on Mr. Drew’s reading.

“I’ll see who it is,” Nancy said, and still gripping letter and knife she ran to the hall.

First she switched on the lights which illuminated the porch, and then opened the door to admit the caller.

“Hello, Nancy Drew!”

“Why, Ned Nickerson, of all persons!” the girl cried. “Do come right in!”

The young man entered and removed his coat.

“Please go right into the living room,” Nancy directed. “Dad, here’s Ned Nickerson.”

“How do you do!” Mr. Drew exclaimed in greeting.

“Good evening, Mr. Drew,” the young man smiled, shaking hands vigorously with his host. “I just came into town from college to make some plans with Mother and Dad which concern Nancy, here, if you will consent.”