The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes by Carolyn Keene Page B

When he inquired why, the girl’s eyes twinkled and she answered, “Bess has had hers!”
    “That’s what you think!” her cousin retorted. “Two hours from now I’ll be ready for seven courses!”
    Nancy giggled. “They may serve only four!”
    A little later they all went upstairs to the girls’ room. As Nancy unlocked the door, the telephone was ringing. When she answered, the operator said, “Miss Drew? ... I have an overseas call for you. One moment, please.”
    In a few seconds a young man’s voice came over the wire and Nancy almost shrieked, “Ned!”
    Bess and George grinned and nodded their heads knowingly. After an exchange of excited greetings, Ned said to Nancy, “Detective Nickerson is calling to report to Detective Drew. I have some news for you. I got hold of the Graphic reporter who wrote the story that went with your picture. He finally broke down and said he had learned of your plans from a man named Pete. I did some sleuthing and found out that Pete’s full name is Paul Petrie!”
    “Oh, marvelous!” exclaimed Nancy. “Who is this Mr. Petrie?”
    “He lives in town. Petrie has never been in trouble with the police, but I learned that he isn’t very well regarded. Had a few near brushes with the law when some of his checks bounced.”
    “Ned, that’s clever detecting!” Nancy exclaimed.
    “Wait until you hear what else I have to tell you. It’s really big news! Nancy, I tracked down the person who wrote that warning note about the bomb!”

CHAPTER IX
    Being Shadowed
     
     
     
    As Nancy listened eagerly, Ned told her how he had located the writer of the warning note. “I studied your tracing of the writing. First, like you, I was sure a woman had written the words. You may remember Professor Webster at Emerson. Along with teaching archaeology, he’s a handwriting expert. He and I have had many discussions about how the formation of letters is an indication of one’s character.”
    “You mean,” said Nancy, “a bold, vertical handwriting usually belongs to a literary person and jerky, slanted-to-the-right letters are a sign of nervousness?”
    “Exactly. After studying the note you received, I figured it had been written by a somewhat shy, motherly person, probably elderly. From the type of paper used, I deduced she lived in a middle-income area of town and might shop locally. So I hounded the markets and kept my eyes open.”
    “And you found her that way?” Nancy asked.
    Ned chuckled. “Sure did.” He had taken a young cousin of his along to the various stores. “We stayed near the check-out counter,” Ned went on. “Whenever an elderly woman came up to the cashier, we’d start talking about bombs and watch her reaction. Finally, in one supermarket, we saw a woman tremble violently, and asked her point-blank about the note. She admitted putting it in your mailbox.”
    “You’re simply a genius!” Nancy exclaimed. “Go on!”
    “This woman, Mrs. Morrison, runs a small rooming house. There are several within the block and many strangers come and go. But one day Mrs. Morrison was just about to close a window which opens onto an alleyway, when she heard two men talking below. One said he had had orders from Mr. Drew to use a bomb on the girl detective and her father.”
    “What else did she hear?” Nancy asked excitedly.
    “That was about all, except the words ‘He’s a lawyer.’ Mrs. Morrison looked out, but by this time the men had gone. She couldn’t make up her mind whether they were serious or not. She was tempted to call the police, but decided against it.”
    “What did Mrs. Morrison do?”
    “She casually inquired of the cashier in the supermarket if she knew of any girl detectives in town. When she heard there was one by the name of Nancy Drew, whose father was a lawyer, Mrs. Morrison became more puzzled than ever, and wondered if some family feud was being carried on between Drew and Drew.
    “Finally,” Ned went on, “Mrs. Morrison decided to