XXIII
Looking for the Will
When Nancy Drew awoke the following morning, the bright sunlight was streaming in at her open bedroom window. As her eyes turned toward the little clock on her dresser, she was alarmed to see that it was after nine o’clock.
“How could I oversleep on a morning like this?” she asked herself.
Quickly running her hand under the pillow, she brought out the Crowley notebook and surveyed it with satisfaction.
“Oh, what a surprise the Tophams are going to get!” she chuckled softly.
Hastily dressing, Nancy hurried downstairs. She found that her father had already left for the office.
“Oh, dear,” she thought. “I wonder if he forgot?”
At that moment Hannah appeared from the kitchen bearing a plate of crisp, steaming waffles.
“Your father said I was to tell you to go to his office just as soon as you finish your breakfast,” she informed Nancy. “He said you were to bring your notebook.”
“My notebook—Oh, yes, I know what he meant! It won’t take long to eat breakfast,” she predicted, as she seated herself at the table.
After a hasty meal, she climbed into the roadster and drove to her father’s office. She found him alone in the inner office.
“I’m sorry I overslept this morning,” Nancy apologized. “Have I kept you waiting?”
“Not at all,” her father assured her pleasantly. “I told Hannah not to awaken you because I knew you needed rest after your hard day yesterday. And, anyway, we couldn’t do anything about the will without an order from the court.”
“Did you get it?”
“Yes, I saw the judge early this morning. After explaining everything to him he gave me the paper. I have it here.” Carson Drew tapped an inside pocket.
“I brought the notebook with me. You wanted it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I thought it might be necessary to show it to the judge, but we won’t need it now. However, it may be well to put it in the safe. I’ll do it now.”
Carson Drew took the notebook from Nancy and after placing it inside a small safe closed and locked the door.
“When shall we start for Masonville?” Nancy asked somewhat impatiently.
“Right now if you are ready.”
After leaving a number of instructions with his private secretary, Carson Drew followed his daughter from the office. He took his place beside her in the roadster.
“I’ll never get over it if we don’t find the will,” she declared, as they drove along. A flush of excitement had tinted her cheeks and her eyes were bright.
“You must remember one thing, Nancy,” returned her father calmly. “Crowley was a queer character and did things in a queer way. So the will may be there, and again it may not be. Perhaps he left only further directions in a box. I remember one case in Canada many years ago. An eccentric Frenchman died and he left directions to look in a trunk of old clothes. In the pocket of a coat were found further directions to look in a closet of his home. There his family found directions to look in a copper boiler. The boiler had disappeared and was finally located in a curiosity shop. Inside, on the bottom, was pasted what proved to be a word puzzle. The old Frenchman’s heirs were about to give up in despair when a puzzler solved the puzzle and the man’s bag of gold was found—under a board in his bedroom!”
“Oh, but they found it, anyway,” breathed Nancy.
The trip to Masonville was quickly accomplished, and in a short time Nancy stopped the roadster in front of the Masonville National Bank.
“You may as well come, too,” Carson Drew said, as Nancy hesitated.
Parking the car at the curbing, the two entered the bank. Mr. Drew offered his professional card and asked to see the president. After a few minutes’ wait, they were ushered into a private conference room. An elderly man arose to greet them.
The introductions accomplished, Mr. Drew hastened to state his mission. Before he could finish the story, the bank president cut him short.
“I am afraid you have come to the wrong place. To my knowledge we have never had dealings with a man by the name of Josiah Crowley.”
“Perhaps you did not know him by that name. I believe he had a deposit box here under the name of Josiah Harkston.”
“Josiah Harkston?” the banker repeated thoughtfully. “It seems to me we have been trying to get in touch with a man by that name. If I remember correctly the rent on his safety deposit box has not been paid for some time. If you will wait a moment I will find out.”
The banker left the room. He returned in a few minutes with a sheet of paper in his hand.
“According to our record a Josiah Harkston rented box 148 from us, but the past year the rent has not been paid. Here is his signature if you care to look at it.”
Eagerly Nancy and her father examined the sheet of paper which the banker handed them. At a glance they saw that the writing was in the cramped hand of Josiah Crowley.
“It may be that Crowley and Harkston were the same person, as you say,” the banker continued. “But we have no authority to permit you to examine the contents of the safety deposit box.”
“I have an order from the court,” Mr. Drew said quietly.
“Oh, that is different.” The banker’s attitude underwent a sudden change. “May I see the document please?”
“Certainly.”
Mr. Drew removed the paper from his pocket and handed it to the banker. After examining it for a minute, the president returned it.
“You find it satisfactory?” Mr. Drew asked.
“Perfectly. You are welcome to open the safety deposit box—of course in the presence of a bank official. I suppose you have the key?”
Nancy’s face fell. She had never once thought of the key.
“We have no key,” Mr. Drew admitted. “Isn’t there one in the bank which will fit the box?” He knew some small banks had this.
“No, we did away with that when we got our regular vault,” said the banker. “But—wait a minute,” he added suddenly. “I think I can help you out.”
He disappeared into another part of the bank and presently came back holding up a sealed envelope.
“That man had two keys for his box and he left one here in my possession, sealed up as you can see. As you have a court order I feel you are entitled to this key,” and he handed the envelope to Mr. Drew.
The envelope was marked with Josiah Crowley’s assumed name, also the number of his box. It contained a small, flat key, nothing more.
“Now we will go to the boxes,” said the bank official.
Nancy and her father followed the president into the main part of the bank. They were then admitted into a small room which was protected by heavily barred doors. Finally, they entered the vault which contained the safety deposit boxes.
The president inserted a small key in a lock, then used the key given to Mr. Drew and finally pulled out a metal box which bore the number 148. Politely, he handed the box to Mr. Drew, who quickly lifted the lid and peered inside. Unable to resist the temptation, Nancy peeped over her father’s shoulder.
The box was empty save for one document in the bottom.
“Oh, it must be the will!” Nancy cried before Mr. Drew could examine the paper.
“It is the will,” her father announced, after a hasty glance at the document.
“A will, eh?” said the bank official, with keen interest.
“Yes, and I will ask you to do me a favor. Kindly place your initials on each page—so you can later on identify it if necessary—and I will do the same.”
“Certainly, Mr. Drew. I’ve done that before.”
Mr. Drew thanked the president for the help he had given, and with Nancy left the bank. Once they had gained the comparative privacy of the roadster, they grinned at each other like two mischievous youngsters.
“Well, we put it over, eh, Nancy?”
“We certainly did. But read the will! I’m dying to find out what it says. I can’t stand the suspense another minute!”
The will comprised several pages, all written in Josiah Crowley’s cramped style. Mr. Drew spread the pages out before him, and Nancy pored over them. Not only was the fine writing difficult to make out, but the legal terms were confusing.
“It’s going to be a terrible task to study it all out,” Nancy complained.
“Yes, I think we had better take it to the office,” Mr. Drew suggested. He picked up the last page of the will and studied it closely. “I see Doctor Nesbitt signed as a witness. No wonder the will never came to light. If you remember, he died a few days after Crowley. Thomas Wackley, the other witness, I never heard of.”
“Oh, I don’t care who witnessed the will,” Nancy said impatiently. “I want to find out if Allie and Grace and poor Abigail got anything. I can’t make head nor tail out of it.”
“I see their names are mentioned,” Mr. Drew told her, pointing to one of the pages.
“Oh, I’m so glad! So long as I know they’re taken care of I suppose I can wait until we get to your office to find out the details. We can have the will copied in typewriting.”
“Yes, I want to go over the document carefully. It is evident that Crowley drew it up himself, and I want to make certain it is legal.”
“Oh, do you think there is any danger it won’t be?” Nancy questioned anxiously.
“I can’t tell until I go over it in detail, Nancy. But from a hasty examination it appears that the Tophams aren’t mentioned, and they are certain to make trouble if they can. I want to make sure there is no way for them to break the will before I notify them we have it in our possession.”
Mr. Drew folded the papers and placed them carefully in his pocket. As Nancy started the motor in preparation for the return trip to River Heights she began to chuckle.
“If the will does prove to be legal, won’t it be a blow for the Tophams? I’d give a lot to see how they take it. I think it would be a splendid idea to call a meeting of all the relatives and read the will aloud!”
“I’m afraid you have a dark motive behind that idea,” Mr. Drew laughed. “But I’ll try to humor you this time. What’s more, I’ll promise that you may be present when the coup de grâce is administered to the Tophams!”