The Secret of the Old Clock CHAPTER I The Rescue NANCY DREW, an attractive girl of eighteen, was driving home along a country road in her new, dark-blue convertible. She had just delivered some legal papers for her father. "It was sweet of Dad to give me this car for my birthday," she thought. "And it's fun to help him in his work." Her father, Carson Drew, a well-known lawyer in their home town of River Heights, frequently discussed puzzling aspects of cases with his blond, blue-eyed daughter. Smiling, Nancy said to herself, "Dad depends on my intuition." An instant later she gasped in horror. From the lawn of a house just ahead of her a little girl about five years of age had darted into the roadway. A van, turning out of the driveway of the house, was barely fifty feet away from her. As the driver vigorously sounded the horn in warning, the child became confused and ran directly in front of the van. Miraculously, the little girl managed to cross the road safely and pull herself up onto a low wall, which formed one side Of a bridge. But the next second, as the van sped away, the child lost her balance and toppled off the wall out of sight! "Oh my goodness!" Nancy cried out, slamming on her brakes. She had visions of the child plunging into the water below, perhaps striking her head fatally on a rock Nancy leaped out of her car and dashed across the road. At the foot of the embankment, she could see the curly-haired little girl lying motionless, the right side of her body in the water. "I hope—" Nancy dared not complete the harrowing thought as she climbed down the steep slope. When she reached the child, she saw to her great relief that the little girl was breathing normally and no water had entered her nose or mouth. A quick examination showed that she had suffered no broken bones. Gently Nancy lifted the little girl, and holding her firmly in both arms, struggled to the top of the embankment. Then she hurried across the road and up the driveway to the child's house. At this moment the front door flew open and an elderly woman rushed out, crying, "Judy! Judy!" "I'm sure she'll be all right," said Nancy quickly. The woman, seeing Nancy's car, asked excitedly, "Did you run into her?" "No, no. Judy fell off the bridge." Nancy quickly explained what had taken place. By this time another woman, slightly younger, had hurried from the house. "Our baby! What has happened to her?" As the woman reached out to take Judy, Nancy said soothingly, "Judy's going to be all right. I'll carry her into the house and lay her on a couch." One of the women opened the screen door and the other directed, "This way." Nancy carried her little burden through a hallway and into a small, old-fashioned living room. As soon as she laid the child on the couch, Judy began to murmur and turn her head from side to side. "I believe she'll come to in a few minutes," said Nancy. The two women watched Judy intently as they introduced themselves as Edna and Mary Turner, great-aunts of the little girl. "Judy lives with us," explained Edna, the older sister. "We're bringing her up." Nancy was somewhat surprised to hear that these elderly women were rearing such a small child. She gave her name and address, just as Judy opened her eyes and looked around. Seeing Nancy, she asked, "Who are you?" "My name is Nancy. I'm glad to know you, Judy." "Did you see me fall?" Nancy nodded, as the child's Aunt Mary said, "She rescued you from the river after you fell in." Judy began to cry. "I'll never, never run into the road again, really I won't!" she told her aunts. Nancy said she was sure that Judy never would. She patted the child, who smiled up at her. Although Nancy felt that Judy would be all right, she decided to stay a few minutes longer to see if she could be of help. The child's wet clothes were removed and a robe put on her. Mary Turner started for the kitchen door. "I'd better get some medication and wet compresses for Judy. She's getting a good-sized lump on her head. Nancy, will you come with me?" She led the way to the kitchen and headed for a first-aid cabinet which hung on the wall. "I want to apologize to you, Nancy, for thinking you hit Judy," the woman said. "I guess Edna and I lost our heads. You see, Judy is very precious to us. We brought up her mother, who had been an only child and was orphaned when she was a little girl. The same thing happened to Judy. Her parents were killed in a boat explosion three years ago. The poor little girl has no close relatives except Edna and me." "Judy looks very healthy and happy," Nancy said quickly, "so I'm sure she must love it here." Mary smiled. "We do the best we can on our small income. Sometimes it just doesn't suffice, though. We sold some old furniture to the two men in that van you saw. I don't know who they were, but I guess the price was all right." Mary Turner's thoughts went back to little Judy. "She's so little now that Edna and I are able to manage with our small income. But we worry about the future. We're dressmakers but our fingers aren't so nimble with the needle as they used to be. "To tell you the truth, Nancy, at the time Judy's parents were killed, Edna and I wondered whether we would be able to take care of Judy properly. But we decided to try it and now we wouldn't part with her for anything in the world. She's won our hearts completely." Nancy was touched by the story. She knew what was in the minds of the Turner sisters—living costs would become higher, and with their advancing years, their own income would become lower. "Unfortunately," Mary went on, "Judy's parents left very little money. But they were extremely bright people and Judy is going to be like them. She ought to study music and dancing, and have a college education. But I'm afraid we'll never be able to give her those things." Nancy said reassuringly, "Judy may be able to win a scholarship, or get other financial aid." Mary, finding Nancy a sympathetic listener, continued, "A cousin of our father's named Josiah Crowley used to help us. But he passed away a couple of months ago. For years he used to pay us long visits and was very generous with his money." Miss Turner sighed. "He always promised to remember us in his will—he loved little Judy—and I am afraid Edna and I came to depend on that in our plans for her. But he did not carry out his promise." Nancy smiled understandingly and made, no comment. But she did wonder why Mr. Crowley had changed his mind. "Josiah went to live with some other cousins. After that, things changed. He rarely came to see us. But he was here just last February and said the same thing—that Edna and I were to inherit money from him. He had always helped us and it seemed strange that he should stop so suddenly." Mary Turner looked at Nancy. "Maybe you know our well-to-do cousins that he went to stay with. They live in River Heights. They're the Richard Tophams." "Do they have two daughters named Ada and Isabel?" Nancy asked. "If so, I know them." "That's the family all right," replied Mary. Nancy detected a hint of coolness in the woman's voice. "Do you like those two girls?" Miss Turner asked. Nancy did not answer at once. She had been taught never to gossip. But finally she said tactfully, "Ada and Isabel were in high school with me. They were never my close friends. We— uh—didn't see eye to eye on various things." By this time Mary Turner had selected a few items from the first-aid chest. Now she went to the refrigerator for some ice cubes. As she arranged the various articles on a tray, she said, "Well, when Cousin Josiah passed away, to our amazement Richard Topham produced a will which made him executor of the Crowley estate and left all the money to him, his wife, and the two girls." "Yes. I did read that in the newspaper," Nancy recalled. "Is the estate a large one?" "I understand there's considerable money in it," Mary Turner replied. "Some of Josiah's other cousins say he told them the same thing he told us, and they are planning to go to court about the matter." The woman shrugged. "But I guess a fight to break the will would be hopeless. Nevertheless, Edna and I cannot help feeling there must be a later will, although as yet no one has presented it." Nancy followed Miss Turner into the living room. The cold compresses helped to reduce the swelling where Judy had hit her head on a rock. Convinced now that the little girl was all right, Nancy said she must leave. "Come to see me again soon," Judy spoke up. "I like you, Nancy. "You're my saving girl." "You bet I'll come," Nancy answered. "I like you too. You're a good sport!" The child's great-aunts profusely thanked Nancy again for rescuing Judy. The visitor had barely reached the door when Edna suddenly said, "Mary, where's our silver teapot?" "Why, right there on the tea table— Oh, it's gone!" Edna ran into the dining room. "The silver candlesticks! They're gone too!" Nancy had paused in the doorway, startled. "Do you mean the pieces have been stolen?" she asked. "They must have been," replied Mary Turner, who was white with apprehension. "By those men who bought some furniture from us!" Instantly Nancy thought of the men in the van. "Who were the men?" she asked. "Oh, Mary, how could we have been so careless?" Edna Turner wailed. "We don't know who the men were. They just knocked on the door and asked if we had any old furniture that we wanted to sell. We'll never get the silver back!" "Maybe you will!" said Nancy. "I'll call the police." "Oh dear!" Mary said woefully. "Our phone is out of order." "Then I'll try to catch up to the van!" Nancy declared. "What did the men look like?" "They were short and heavy-set. One had dark hair, the other light. They had kind of large noses. That's about all I noticed." "Me too," said Edna. With a hasty good-by Nancy dashed from the house and ran to her car. CHAPTER II A Missing Will THE BLUE convertible sped along the country road. Nancy smiled grimly. "I'm afraid I'm exceeding the speed limit," she thought. "But I almost wish a trooper would stop me. Then I could tell him what happened to the poor Turner sisters." Nancy watched the tire marks which the van driven by the thieves had evidently made in the dirt road. But a few miles farther on a feeling of dismay came over her. She had reached a V- shaped intersection of two highways. Both roads were paved, and since no tire impressions could be seen, Nancy did not know which highway the thieves had taken. "Oh dear!" she sighed. "Now what shall I do?" Nancy concluded that her wisest move would be to take the road which led to River Heights. There was a State Police barracks just a few miles ahead. "I'll stop there and report the theft." She kept looking for the van, which she recalled as charcoal gray. "I wish I'd seen the license number or the name of the firm that owns the van," Nancy said to herself ruefully. When she reached State Police headquarters Nancy introduced herself to Captain Runcie and told about the robbery, giving what meager information she could about the suspects. The officer promised to send out an alarm immediately for the thieves and their charcoal-gray moving van. Nancy continued her journey home, thinking of the Turners and their problems. "I wonder why Mr. Josiah Crowley left all his money to the Tophams and none to his other relatives. Why did he change his mind? Those Tophams are well to do and don't need money as much as the Turners." Nancy did not know Richard Topham, but she was acquainted with his wife, as well as his daughters. They were arrogant and unreasonable, and disliked by many of the shopkeepers in town. Ada and Isabel had been unpopular in high school. They had talked incessantly of money and social position, making themselves very obnoxious to the other students. "I wonder," Nancy thought, "if a way can't be found so the Turners could get a share of the Crowley money. I'll ask Dad." Five minutes later Nancy pulled into the double garage and hurried across the lawn to the kitchen door of the Drews' large red-brick house. The building stood well back from the street, and was surrounded by tall," beautiful trees. "Hello, Nancy," greeted the pleasant, slightly plump woman who opened the door. She was Hannah Gruen, housekeeper for the Drews, who had helped rear Nancy since the death of the girl's own mother many years before. Nancy gave her a hug, then asked, "Dad home? I see his car is in the garage." "Your father's in the living room and dinner will be ready in a few minutes." Nancy went to say hello to her tall, handsome father, then hurried to wash her hands and comb her hair before the three who formed the Drew household sat down to dinner. During the meal Nancy related her adventure of the afternoon. "What tricky thieves!" Hannah Gruen burst out. "Oh, I hope the police capture them!" "They certainly took advantage of those Turner sisters," Mr. Drew commented. "Mary and Edna are in financial difficulties," Nancy commented. "Isn't it a shame that Josiah Crowley didn't bequeath some of his estate to the Turners and other relatives who need the money?" Carson Drew smiled affectionately at his only child, then said, "Yes, it is, Nancy. But unless a will written later turns up, that's the way it has to be." "The Turners think there is another will," Nancy told him. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if it can be found?" "I agree," spoke up Hannah. "It's well known in town that Mrs. Topham and her daughters were unkind to Josiah Crowley for some time before he died. Their excuse was that Josiah's eccentricities were extremely trying." "The Tophams have never been noted for any charitable inclinations," Mr. Drew observed with a smile. "However, they did give Josiah a home." "Only because they knew he was going to leave all his money to them," said Hannah. "If I'd been Josiah I wouldn't have stayed there." The housekeeper sighed. "But when people get old, they don't like change. And probably he put up with things rather than move." She said the treatment the Tophams had accorded old Josiah Crowley had aroused a great deal of unfavorable comment throughout River Heights. Nancy had not known him personally, but she had often seen the elderly man on the street. Secretly she had regarded him as a rather nice, kindly person. His wife had died during an influenza epidemic and after that he had made his home with various relatives. According to rumors, all these people had admitted that he had paid his board and done many favors for them. They in turn had been very kind to him, and though poor themselves, had tried to make Josiah Crowley comfortable and happy. "Tell me everything you know about Mr. Crowley," Nancy urged her father. The lawyer said that the old man had publicly declared he intended to provide in his will for several deserving relatives and friends. Then, three years before his death, the Topham family, who had never shown an interest in him, had experienced a sudden change of heart. They had begged Josiah Crowley to make his home with them, and at last he had consented. Shortly after he moved into the Topham house, Mr. Drew was told that the old man had decided to leave all his money to them. Mr. Crowley, though failing in health, maintained a firm grip on life. But as time went on, he became more and more unhappy. He continued to live with the Tophams, but it was whispered about that he frequently slipped away to visit his other relatives and friends, and that he intended to change his will again. "Then there must be a later will!" Nancy said hopefully. Mr. Drew nodded, and went on, "One day Josiah Crowley became critically ill. Just before his death he attempted to communicate something to the doctor who attended him, but his words, other than 'will,' were unintelligible. After the funeral only one will came to light, giving the entire fortune to the Tophams." "Dad, do you suppose Mr. Crowley was trying to tell the doctor something about another will which he had put some place where the Tophams couldn't find it?" Nancy asked. "Very likely," the lawyer replied. "Probably he intended to leave his money to relatives who had been kind to him. But fate cheated him of the opportunity." "Do you think anybody has looked for another will?" Nancy questioned. "I don't know. But I'm sure of this. If another will shows up, Richard Topham will fight it. The estate is a considerable one, I understand, and they aren't the kind of people to share good fortune." "Can't the present will be contested?" Nancy asked. "I hear that other relatives have filed a claim, declaring they were told another will had been made in their favor. But unless it is located, I doubt that the matter will ever go further." "But the Tophams don't deserve the fortune," Hannah Gruen remarked. "And besides, they don't need the money. It doesn't seem fair." "It may not seem fair, but it is legal," Mr. Drew told her, "and I'm afraid nothing can be done about the situation." "Poor Judy and her aunts!" said Nancy. "There are others affected in the same -way," her father remarked. "For instance, two young women who live on the River Road. I don't know their names. I understand they were not related to Mr. Crowley, but were great favorites of his. They are having a struggle and could use some extra money." Nancy lapsed into silence. She felt strongly that a mystery lurked behind the Crowley case. "Dad, don't you believe Josiah Crowley made a second will?" Nancy questioned suddenly. "You sound like a trial lawyer, the way you cross-examine me," Mr. Drew protested, but with evident enjoyment. "To tell the truth, Nancy, I don't know what to think, but something did happen which might indicate that Mr. Crowley at least intended to make another will." "Please go on!" Nancy begged impatiently. "Well, one day nearly a year ago I was in the First National Bank when Crowley came in with Henry Rolsted." "The attorney who specializes in wills and other estate matters?" Nancy inquired. "Yes. I had no intention of listening to their conversation, but I couldn't help overhearing a few words that made me think they were discussing a will. Crowley made an appointment to call at Rolsted's office the following day." "Oh!" cried Nancy excitedly. "That looks as though Mr. Crowley had made a new will, doesn't it? But why didn't Mr. Rolsted say something about it at the time of Mr. Crowley's death?" "For one of many reasons," Mr. Drew replied. "In the first place, he may never have drawn a new will for Mr. Crowley. And even if he had, the old man might have changed his mind again and torn it up." Before Nancy spoke again, she finished the delicious apple pudding which Hannah had made. Then she looked thoughtfully at her father. "Dad, Mr. Rolsted is an old friend of yours, isn't he?" "Yes. An old friend and college classmate." "Then won't you please ask him if he ever drew up a will for Mr. Crowley, or knows anything that might solve this mystery?" "That's a rather delicate question, young lady. He may tell me it's none of my business!" "You know he won't. You're such good friends he'll understand why you're taking a special interest in this case. Will you do it? Please!" "I know you like to help people who are in trouble," her father said. "I suppose I could invite Mr. Rolsted to have lunch with me tomorrow—" "Wonderful!" Nancy interrupted eagerly. "That would be a splendid opportunity to find out what he knows about a later will." "All right. I'll try to arrange a date. How about joining us?" Nancy's face lighted up as she said, "Oh, thank you, Dad. I'd love to. I hope it can be tomorrow, so we won't have to waste any time trying to find another will." Mr. Drew smiled. "We?" he said. "You mean you might try to find a hidden will if Mr. Crowley wrote one?" "I might." Nancy's eyes sparkled in anticipation. CHAPTER III An Unpleasant Meeting "WHAT are your plans for this morning, Nancy?" her father asked at the breakfast table. "I thought I'd do a little shopping," she replied. Her eyes twinkled. "There's a dance coming up at the country club and I'd like to get a new dress." "Then will you phone me about lunch? Or better still, how about eating with me, whether Mr. Rolsted comes or not?" "I'll be there!" Nancy declared gaily. "All right. Drop in at my office about twelve-thirty. If Mr. Rolsted does accept my invitation, we'll try to find out something about Josiah Crow-ley's wills." Mr. Drew pushed back his chair. "I must hurry now or I'll be late getting downtown." After her father had left, Nancy finished her breakfast, then went to the kitchen to help Hannah Gruen, who had already left the table. "Any errands for me?" Nancy asked. "Yes, dear. Here's a list," the housekeeper replied. "And good luck with your detective work." Hannah Gruen gazed at the girl affectionately and several thoughts raced through her mind. In school Nancy had been very popular and had made many friends. But through no fault of her own, she had made two enemies, Ada and Isabel Topham. This worried Hannah. The sisters, intensely jealous of Nancy, had tried to discredit her in positions she had held in school. But loyal friends had always sprung to Nancy's defense. As a result, Ada and Isabel had become more unpleasant than ever to Nancy. "Thanks for your encouragement," she said to Hannah a little later, giving her a hug. "Whatever you do, Nancy, beware of those Topham sisters. They'd be only too happy to make things difficult for you." "I promise to be on my guard." Before leaving the house, Nancy phoned the Turners. She was glad to hear that Judy had suffered no ill effects from her fall. But she was disappointed that the police had found no clue to the thieves who had stolen the silverware. "Please let me know if you learn anything," Nancy said, and Edna promised to do so. Becomingly dressed in a tan cotton suit, Nancy set off in her convertible for the shopping district. She drove down the boulevard, and upon reaching the more congested streets, made her way skillfully through heavy traffic, then pulled into a parking lot. "I think I'll try Taylor's Department Store first for a dress," she decided. Taylor's was one of River Heights' finest stores. Nancy purchased several items for Hannah on the main floor, then went directly to the misses' wearing apparel section on the second floor. Usually Nancy had no trouble finding a sales-clerk. But this particular morning seemed to be an especially busy one in the department, and an extra rush of customers had temporarily overwhelmed the sales force. Nancy sat down in a convenient chair to await her turn. Her thoughts wandered to the Turner sisters and little Judy. Would she be able to help them? She was suddenly brought out of her reverie by loud-voiced complaints. "We've been standing here nearly ten minutes!" a shrill voice declared. "Send a saleswoman to us immediately!" Nancy turned to see Ada and Isabel Topham speaking to the floor manager. "I'm afraid I can't," the man replied regretfully. "There are a number of others ahead of you. All our salespeople are—" "Perhaps you don't know who we are!" Ada interrupted rudely. "Indeed I do," the floor manager told her wearily. "I will have a saleswoman here in a few moments. If you will only wait—" "We're not accustomed to waiting," Isabel Topham told him icily. "Such service!" Ada chimed in. "Do you realize that my father owns considerable stock in Taylor's? If we report your conduct to him, he could have you discharged." "I'm sorry," the harassed man apologized. "But it is a rule of the store. You must await your turn." Ada tossed her head and her eyes flashed angrily. This did nothing to improve her looks. In spite of the expensive clothes she wore, Ada was not attractive. She was very thin and sallow, with an expression of petulance. Now that her face was distorted with anger, she was almost ugly. Isabel, the pride of the Topham family, was rather pretty, but her face lacked character. She had acquired an artificially elegant manner of speaking which, although irritating, was sometimes amusing. It was her mother's ambition that Isabel marry into a socially prominent family. "I pity any future husband of hers!" Nancy thought with a chuckle. Suddenly Ada and Isabel saw Nancy, who nodded a greeting. Isabel coldly returned the nod, but Ada gave no indication that she had even noticed Nancy. At that moment a saleswoman hurried toward the Topham sisters. At once they began to shower abuse upon the young woman for her failure to wait on them sooner. "What is it you wish to look at, Miss Topham?" the clerk said, flushing. "Evening dresses." The saleswoman brought out several dresses. Nancy watched curiously as the Tophams, in an unpleasant frame of mind, tossed aside beautiful models with scarcely a second glance. They found fault with every garment. "This is a very chic gown," the saleswoman told them hopefully, as she displayed a particularly attractive dress of lace and chiffon. "It arrived only this morning." Ada picked it up, gave the dress one careless glance, then tossed it into a chair, as the distracted clerk went off to bring other frocks. The fluffy gown slipped to the floor in a crumpled mass. To Nancy's horror Ada stepped on it as she turned to examine another dress. In disgust, Nancy went to pick it up. "Leave that alone!" Ada cried out, her eyes blazing. "Nobody asked for your help." "Are you buying this?" Nancy asked evenly. "It's none of your business!" As Nancy continued to hold the dress, Ada in a rage snatched it from her hands, causing a long tear in the chiffon skirt. "Oh!" Isabel cried out. "Now you've done it! We'd better get out of here, Ada!" "And why?" her haughty sister shrilled. "It was Nancy Drew's fault! She's always making trouble." "It was not my fault," Nancy said. "Come on, Ada," Isabel urged, "before that clerk gets back." Reluctantly Ada followed Isabel out of the department As they rushed toward a waiting elevator, Nancy gazed after them. At this moment the saleswoman reappeared with an armful of lovely frocks. She stared in bewilderment at the torn dress. "Where did my customers go?" she asked Nancy worriedly. Nancy pointed toward the elevator, but made no comment. Instead she said, "I'm looking for an evening dress myself. This torn one is very pretty. Do you think it could be mended?" "Oh, I don't know," the woebegone clerk wailed. "I'll probably be held responsible and I can't afford to pay for the dress." "I'm sure Taylor's wouldn't ask you to do that," Nancy said kindly. "If there's any trouble, I'll speak to the manager myself. What usually happens is that such a dress is greatly reduced." "Thank you," the clerk replied. "I'll call Miss Reed, the fitter, and see what can be done." "First, let me try on the dress," Nancy said, smiling. They found a vacant fitting room and Nancy took off her suit and blouse. Then she slipped the lovely pale-blue dance creation over her head and the saleswoman zipped it up. "It's darling on you," she said enthusiastically. Nancy grinned. "I kind of like myself in it," she said. "Please call the fitter now." Presently Miss Reed, a gray-haired woman, appeared. Within seconds she had made a change in an overlap o£ the chiffon skirt. The tear was no longer visible and the style of the dress was actually improved. "I told our manager what happened," said the saleswoman. "If you want the dress, he will reduce the price fifty percent." "How wonderful!" Nancy exclaimed. Laughing, she said, "That price will fit into my budget nicely. I'll take the dress. Please send it." She gave her name and address. To herself she added, "Ada Topham did me a favor. But if she ever finds out what happened, she'll certainly be burned up!" Nancy suppressed a giggle. "It's been a real pleasure waiting on you, Miss Drew," the saleswoman said after Miss Reed left and Nancy was putting on her suit. "But how I dread to see those Topham sisters come in here! They're so unreasonable. And they'll be even worse when they get Josiah Crowley's money." The woman lowered her voice. "The estate hasn't been settled, but the girls are counting on the fortune already. Last week I heard Ada say to her sister, 'Oh, I guess there's no question about our getting old Crowley's fortune. But I wish Father would stop worrying that somebody is going to show up with a later will which may do us out of it.' " Nancy was too discreet to engage in gossip with the saleswoman. But she was interested and excited about the information. The fact that Mr. Topham was disturbed indicated to her that he too suspected Josiah Crowley had made a second will The conversation reminded Nancy of her date. She glanced at her wrist watch and saw that it was after twelve o'clock.