Читать книгу Nancy's Mysterious Letter - Walter Karig - Страница 8

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“The Monday before Thanksgiving—next Monday, that is, will be Founders’ Day at the University,” Ned explained. “It’s the day of our biggest football game of the year. We play State University, and the game ought to be a corker because both teams are unbeaten so far.

“I was wondering if Nancy would like to see the game, and if you will consent, Mr. Drew, Mother and Dad will take Nancy with them, and bring her back.”

“Of course Nancy has my consent,” Mr. Drew said without hesitation.

“Of course I’ll love to go,” Nancy cried. “I’m thrilled to think of it. Thank you, Ned!”

“No thanks at all,” Ned protested. “I’m the one to be thanking you for being my guest.”

“Let’s see, you are on the team, aren’t you?” Mr. Drew asked the youth.

“Yes,” Ned replied. “It’s my first year on the varsity, of course, because I’m only a sophomore. I’m just a substitute, but I’ve been in every game this season, so I have hopes of doing more than sit on the sidelines Monday.”

“I think you are entirely too modest,” Mr. Drew chuckled. “In going through the papers this evening—wait, let me see now—ah, here it is!”

Nancy’s father opened one of the papers at the sports page, and while Nancy looked over his shoulder he read:

“Nickerson’s Gifted Toe Threat to State! Drop-kicking Find of Coach Mullin’s Eleven. Emerson Soph Has Not Missed Goal After Touchdown in Nine Tries This Season. Boots Four Field Goals.”

“Oh, that’s newspaper talk,” Ned said, flushing. “I haven’t started in the line-up of any game. I’m sub quarter-back, you see, and Farquhar, the regular, is the best quarter in the Middle West.”

“I used to play myself,” Mr. Drew said. “I played tackle, end and then left half-back for Hale twenty-two—no, twenty-three years ago. My, how time flies. It was a different game from the one you boys play now. No forward passes.”

“It was a lot rougher, I guess,” Ned commented.

“Rough?” Mr. Drew exclaimed. “Why, I remember against Kingston our full-back and captain, Graham—he’s Graham of International Zinc today—ran thirty yards for a touchdown with a broken collar bone.”

Ned and Mr. Drew plunged into a discussion of football too intricate for Nancy to follow.

She heard “flying wedge” and “five men on the line,” “off-tackle” and “Minnesota shift,” and decided it was as lucid to her as Mr. Drew’s frequent mention of “Torts” and “nolle pros.,” “status quo ante” and “post facto,” Latin legal terms which tried her patience.

Nancy thereupon withdrew quietly to a far corner of the room, opened her father’s penknife, and slit the tough paper of the envelope from England.

She unfolded the crackling, engraved sheet and eagerly read its typewritten message.

Her eyes grew wider and wider as she perused the letter, and as soon as she had read the last line she returned to the salutation and read it all over again.

Her re-reading completed, Nancy leaned back in her chair and stared into space.

By this time Ned and Mr. Drew were drawing diagrams of football formations on the margins of the newspapers.

“You see,” Ned was explaining, “the left half runs to the right, with the full-back cutting ahead for interference, and the right half runs to the left. The quarter makes as if to pass the ball to the left half, and sprints ahead as if he had done so, but actually he gives the ball to the right half who throws a short pass over the line to the tackle or the end.”

“That certainly is a puzzling play,” Mr. Drew commented.

“If you think that’s puzzling, listen to this,” Nancy interrupted. “Your guess wasn’t very far from the truth about this letter, Dad.”

“Did you get into it at last?”

“Yes, and this is what it says,” Nancy announced.

“ ‘My dear Miss Drew:

We are the legal representatives of the Estate of Jonathan Smith, late of Little Coddington, Midhampton, Berks., who died intestate on May 2, last. Mr. Smith had as only kin a sister, from whom he was estranged, a Mrs. Genevieve Smith Drew, who, we find, predeceased Mr. Smith by five years, leaving a daughter who is Mr. Smith’s sole heir by law.

We have traced the daughter, Miss Nancy Smith Drew, to the United Slates, where our agents have been consulting directories and other sources for trace of her. You are the only Miss Nancy Drew so far discovered by them, and we beg of you to communicate with us.

If you happen to be the Miss Drew for whom we are searching, will you be so good as to submit proofs of your identity, whereupon we shall be happy to make arrangements for your return to England.

After the inheritance and death rates are deducted the estate is of a size large enough to repay your interest.’

“And it is signed by a Mr. A. E. Lionel Bates-Jones,” Nancy concluded. “What do you think of that?”

“Are—is it really you?” Ned asked.

“Of course not,” Nancy laughed. “I was born right here in this town.”

“What does it all mean?” Ned queried. “It is written in English, plainly enough, but I couldn’t catch on to it all.”

“Neither could I,” Nancy confessed.

“In brief,” Mr. Drew explained, “some wealthy man named Jonathan Smith died without leaving a will and his lawyers are trying to find his heirs. Smith had a sister with whom he had no communication, but she died before he did and her only child, this missing Nancy Drew, accordingly becomes heir to the fortune. They add that the fortune is of such size that even after the death and inheritance taxes, which are very large in England, are paid, there will be considerable wealth for the claimant.”

“That settles it, then,” Nancy laughed. “I am sailing on the next boat.”

“And then?” her father asked.

“I’ll use all the detective ability I inherited from you, Dad, to find out all about Jonathan even to his favorite dessert and favorite flower. Then I’ll do the same by the late Mrs. Drew, and after buying a black veil I’ll present myself as the missing heiress, produce my claims, take possession of the old moated castle and—presto! I’m rich!”

Ned looked a little worried. After all, he had known Nancy only a few months, and was not used to the little jokes she and her father played upon each other.

“They might trip you up, you know,” he said anxiously. “It may be, that all the genuine Smiths of that branch have a peculiar birthmark or something.”

“And that isn’t all,” laughed Mr. Drew. “You must remember, Nancy dear, you have two previous engagements which will prevent your departure for England.

“You have pledged yourself to attend a certain football game next Monday to cheer the future captain of the Emerson team to victory, and you have also nominated yourself a government agent to recover the stolen mail pouch!”

“That does rather complicate matters,” Nancy laughed. “Well, then, I’m afraid the great Smith fortune will just have to lie idle, drawing interest, until I have completed my other dates!”

Ned looked relieved.

“It would be an awfully risky thing to do, anyhow,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Why, Ned, you goose,” cried Nancy. “I was just pretending! If you thought for a minute that I would try to cheat that Nancy Smith Drew, I—why, I would—I wouldn’t——”

“So was I play-acting,” Ned grinned. “I was helping you play your little comedy. Now, if I thought for a minute you were going to England I’d turn you right over to Special State’s Attorney Drew!”

So, with laughter all around, but a new mystery for Nancy to ponder over, goodnights were said all around.