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Abigail’s Disclosure
When the mantel clock finished striking the hour of three, Abigail Rowen’s lips began to move. Nancy Drew leaned forward eagerly, fearful lest a single word escape her. She sensed that the striking of the clock at a psychological moment had started a train of thought coursing through the old woman’s mind, and now she believed that an important disclosure was about to be made.
“The clock,” Abigail whispered so softly that the words were scarcely audible. “That was it! The clock!”
“Josiah Crowley hid the will in a clock?” Nancy prompted her.
“No,” Abigail shook her head and sighed again. “That wasn’t it. I thought I had it, and then it slipped my mind. I seem to recollect that he said something about a clock, but that wasn’t it.”
Abigail continued to stare at the timepiece, as did Nancy, who was at a loss to understand what connection it could have with the missing will. Suddenly, a low cry came from the old woman.
“There! It came to me just like that! After all these years—”
“Tell me,” Nancy commanded quietly, for she feared that the knowledge might slip from the old lady before she could disclose it.
“A notebook!” Abigail brought out triumphantly. “It was something about a notebook!”
“Tell me more about the notebook,” Nancy urged gently. Although she could scarcely hide her eagerness, she forced herself to speak quietly lest she excite Miss Bowen.
“I remember it all now. Josiah wrote about the will in a little notebook of his. One day he said to me: ‘Abigail, after I’m dead if my will doesn’t come to light, you can find out all about it in this little book of mine.’ ”
“What became of the notebook, Miss Bowen?”
“I can’t seem to recollect. He hid it someplace.”
Again Nancy Drew was baffled. Involuntarily, her eyes traveled to the mantel clock. She studied it critically. What connection could the clock have with the missing will, she asked herself. Certainly there must be one, for otherwise its striking would not have caused Abigail to think of the notebook.
Nancy had studied psychology in school and was familiar with the power of suggestion and association. Now her keen mind jumped to the conclusion that a clock had something to do with the missing Crowley will. Could it be that the notebook had been hidden in the clock?
Impulsively, Nancy got up and went over to the mantel. She took down the clock and looked inside. She saw nothing but a tiny key which evidently was used to wind the timepiece. Disappointed, she returned to her chair.
“Where was Josiah Crowley living at the time he told you about the notebook?” she asked the old lady.
“He was living in his own house then, but he was just getting ready to go to the Tophams. He’d been visiting around with his various kin and letting his own house stay empty. After the Tophams asked him to live with them, he sold his home.”
“What became of the household goods?” Nancy inquired.
“Oh, the Tophams got ’most everything.”
“There must have been a family clock,” Nancy mused, half to herself.
“A family clock?” Abigail repeated. “Oh, yes, there was a clock.”
“Can you describe it?” Nancy questioned.
“Well, it was just an ordinary mantel clock, tall, and with a square face. Something like that one over there.” The old lady pointed to the timepiece Nancy had just examined. “Only Josiah’s was more elaborate. It had a moon or something on top.”
“What became of the clock?”
“I dunno,” Abigail responded indifferently. “I suppose the Tophams got it. They took everything else.”
It was on the tip of Nancy’s tongue to tell Abigail that Josiah Crowley might have hidden his will inside the family clock, but she hesitated to excite the old lady. After all, it was only a theory, and it would not be kind to encourage Abigail Bowen to believe there was a likelihood of gaining an inheritance unless it were a fact.
“I’ll wait until I’m sure before I say anything about it to her,” Nancy decided.
She asked a number of other questions, but it was soon apparent that Abigail had told all that she could recall about the will. Although Nancy spoke of the family clock a number of times, its mention did not seem to interest the old lady.
At last Nancy arose to depart, but before leaving she promised Abigail she would return in a few days to see how she was getting along. It was likewise her intention to stop at the nearest house to ask a neighbor woman to look after the old lady during her absence, but she said nothing of this, as she knew Abigail would protest.
After attending to the mission, she sprang into her roadster and started for River Heights.
Nancy Drew was highly elated at the information she had gleaned, and was now more interested in the case than ever.
“I’ll not tell the Horner girls what I have learned,” Nancy advised herself. “At least not until I have learned more about the family clock. If nothing comes of my theory, Allie and Grace would only be disappointed. I’ll not raise their hopes until I have something important to tell.”
As Nancy drove along on the West Lake Road she reviewed the facts of the Crowley case. Unquestionably, Josiah Crowley had made a second will. According to Abigail Rowen he had secreted it in a safe place and had written its location in a little notebook. He had told Abigail where the notebook could be found in case of his death, and with the passing years, the knowledge had slipped away from the old lady.
“It’s my opinion that Josiah Crowley hid the notebook in the family clock,” Nancy reasoned. “Otherwise, why would Abigail have said anything about it?”
Nancy was at a loss to know how to proceed. She knew that her next step in unraveling the mystery was to search the Crowley clock, but this would not be easy to accomplish. If, as Abigail had indicated, the clock had fallen into the hands of the Tophams, the task might be an impossible one. Then, too, it was not at all unlikely that the Tophams had already discovered the notebook.
“In that case they would have destroyed it,” Nancy told herself. “Still, from the conversation I overheard in the park, I feel reasonably certain the notebook has never been found. No, if Josiah Crowley ever hid it in the clock, it must still be there, and it’s up to me to get hold of it!”
During the long ride to River Heights, Nancy Drew mulled over the perplexing problem, but try as she would she could think of no way to get her hands on the old clock. She must find some means of gaining entrance to the Topham residence!
“I can’t very well climb through a window, much as I would like to,” she laughed. “And if I pay a social call upon the Tophams, they’re sure to be suspicious. We haven’t been friendly for years, and since Ada and Isabel discovered that I have taken an interest in the Horner girls, they would be certain to question my motive in going to their house. No, I must think of a good excuse!”
Presently, Nancy reached River Heights. She drove the roadster down the boulevard and stopped in front of her home. As she stepped out and was preparing to go into the house, she heard her name called. Wheeling about, she saw a girl running toward her. It was one of Nancy’s chums, Helen Corning.
“Hello, Nancy,” Helen called. “I haven’t seen you for days. Where do you keep yourself?”
Nancy laughed as she greeted her chum.
“Oh, I’ve been especially busy lately. Come into the house and we’ll have a chat.”
“Oh, I can’t, Nancy. I wouldn’t be up this way, but I’m trying to sell tickets for a charity dance.”
“How many have you sold?”
“I have six left.” Helen sighed. “It’s a thankless job.”
“I’ll take two if that will help you out,” Nancy offered.
“Will it help me? Say, if I ever get rid of these tickets I’m going to dance a hornpipe. If I don’t sell them this afternoon it’s going to fix it so I can’t start for Moon Lake. I wish I’d never promised to sell the things!”
“Moon Lake?” Nancy asked, in surprise.
“Yes, I’m going to a girls’ camp there. I had planned to leave tonight; but unless I get rid of these tickets I don’t see how I can. I wish you were going with me to Moon Lake, Nancy.”
“So do I, Helen.”
“Why don’t you come along then?”
“Oh, I can’t,” Nancy protested. “I’m involved in something important and I can’t get away. I’d love to go though—really, I would.”
“Well, if you find you can make it later, just hop into your roadster and come along. I’ll be there for two weeks. That is, if I ever get rid of these charity tickets. I can’t leave until I’ve sold them. I’d pay for them out of my allowance, only I’ve spent it already.”
“You are in difficulties,” Nancy laughed. She reached in her purse. “How much are the tickets, Helen?”
“Two dollars each. How many will you take?”
“Oh, give me two.”
As Helen extended the tickets, a sudden thought struck Nancy Drew. A pleased light broke over her face.
“I have an idea, Helen! I’ll sell all of your tickets for you! How will that suit you?”
“You’re not joking?”
“Never was more serious in my life.”
“Then the tickets are yours. But let me warn you it won’t be easy to sell them.”
“I’ll enjoy trying it.”
“Well, I must say you have queer ideas of fun,” Helen commented dryly. “But I’ll not argue with you. This will be fine for me. Now I’ll be able to start for camp this afternoon. Here are the tickets.” She handed them over with evident pleasure. “Good luck to you, Nancy. You’ll need it!”
After Helen Corning had gone on down the street, Nancy Drew walked slowly toward the house. She regarded the charity tickets meditatively and chuckled softly to herself.
“That’s once when I killed two birds with one stone! These tickets will serve as my passport to the impregnable Topham fortress!”