The Secret of the Old Clock by Carolyn Keene Page B

according to the first will," Abby Rowen stated.
    "You mean there was another will?" Nancy inquired eagerly.
    "Of course. Why, I saw that will with my own eyes!"
    "You saw it!" Nancy gasped.
    The old woman nodded gravely. "Mind, I didn't see what was in the will. One day Josiah came to call and give me some money. Right off I noticed he had a bunch of papers in his hand. 'Abby,' he said, 'I've made a new will. I didn't bother with a lawyer. I wrote it myself.' "
    "How long ago was that?" Nancy asked quickly.
    "Let me see." Abby Rowen frowned thoughtfully. "I can't remember the exact date. It was this past spring. Anyway, Josiah hinted that he'd done well by me. 'But, Josiah,' I said, 'are you sure it's legal to write it yourself?' 'Of course it is,' he said. 'A lawyer told me it was all right, just so long as I wrote it myself and signed it. But I did have it witnessed.' "
    "Do you know who witnessed the will?" Nancy broke in.
    "No. He didn't say."
    "Haven't you any idea what became of the will?" Nancy asked hopefully.
    "Well, I remember Josiah did say something about putting it where nobody could get it unless they had legal authority. But I really don't know what became of it."
    "Are you certain that was all Mr. Crowley said?" Nancy inquired gently. She recalled the Turners saying that Abby had become forgetful.
    The elderly woman shook her head and sighed. "Many a night I've lain awake trying to think what else he did say about where he would put the will. I just can't recollect."
    "Try to think!" Nancy begged.
    "I can't remember," Abby Rowen murmured hopelessly. "I've tried and tried." She leaned against the cushions and closed her eyes, as though the effort had exhausted her.
    At that very moment the clock on the mantel chimed twelve. Abby's eyes fluttered open and an odd expression passed over her face.
    For an instant she stared straight before her, then slowly turned her head and fastened her eyes on the clock.
CHAPTER IX
Helpful Disclosures
    NANCY watched Abby Rowen intently as the mantel clock finished striking. The elderly woman's lips had begun to move.
    "The clock!" she whispered. "That was it! The clock!"
    Nancy gripped the arms of her chair in excitement. "Josiah Crowley hid the will in a clock?" she prompted.
    "No—no, it wasn't that," Abby murmured, sighing again. "I know Josiah said something about a clock, but whatever it was has slipped my mind."
    Silence descended over the room. Nancy was wondering what connection the timepiece could have with the missing will. Mrs. Rowen was staring at the clock, evidently still trying to probe her memory.
    Suddenly she gave a low cry. "There! It came to me just like that!"
    "What, Mrs. Rowen?" Nancy urged quietly, lest she startle the old woman into forgetfulness.
    "A notebook!" Abby exclaimed triumphantly.
    Nancy's heart gave a leap, but she forced herself to say calmly, "Please tell me more about this notebook."
    "Well, one day not long before he passed away, Josiah said to me, 'Abby, after I'm dead, if my last will isn't found, you can learn about it in this little book of mine.' "
    "Do you know what became of the notebook, Mrs. Rowen?"
    "Oh dearie me! There goes my memory again. No, I don't."
    Although baffled, Nancy felt a growing conviction that the whereabouts of the Crowley will was definitely tied up with a clock of some kind. But, she pondered, why did the striking of the mantel clock remind Abby Rowen of the notebook?
    Impulsively Nancy got up and went over to the mantel. She looked inside the glass front and in the back. There were no papers inside.
    Returning to her chair, Nancy asked the elderly woman, "What became of the furnishings of the Crowley home when he gave it up?"
    "The Tophams got 'most everything."
    "There must have been a family clock," Nancy mused, half to herself.
    "A family clock?" Abby repeated. "Oh, yes, there was a clock."
    "Can you describe it?"
    "It was just an ordinary mantel type, something like mine—tall, with a square face," the