Chapter 4 Nancy's Mysterious Letter by Carolyn Keene
Doubtful Inheritance
In a flash Nancy shifted to reverse. The convertible shot backward just in time to keep it from breaking through the bridge.
“Oh!” she said aloud.
Shaken by her experience, Nancy pulled to the side of the road and parked. When her heart stopped pounding, she began to think once more about Edgar Nixon.
“I wonder where he went,” she thought.
Nancy turned around and went back to River Heights. She stopped at police headquarters and asked to see Chief McGinnis. The desk sergeant buzzed his superior officer, and after a short conversation to announce Nancy, told her to go into the man’s private office.
He smiled at her. “More clues?” he asked.
“Yes, one. I don’t know how good it is.” She told him about having spotted Edgar Nixon’s car. While she was not sure he was the person driving it, Nancy felt it was worthwhile to follow up the lead.
“The road had no signs, but it’s the one with the old bridge. He got across but I almost crashed through into the water.”
The chief frowned. “Nancy, you must be more careful.”
She asked him whether he had any news for her. He shook his head. “Not a single clue to that man’s whereabouts,” McGinnis said. “But I’ll put some men on this new clue right away. Thanks for coming in, Nancy.”
Before returning home, she decided to stop at the hospital and visit Ira Nixon. When Nancy arrived at his room, she was surprised to find a strange man in it.
“You looking for the mail carrier?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“He’s gone home—after the doctor saw him this morning he said Ira could go. Nice old fellow. I hope he gets along all right.”
Nancy hoped so too. She looked at her watch. “I’ll go to see him at his home after lunch,” she told the patient.
By two o’clock she was at Ira Nixon’s house, carrying a jar of Mrs. Gruen’s homemade stew. When she rang, he called, “Come in.” Nancy found him reclining on a couch in his tiny living room. He looked much better than he had on Sunday.
“Hannah Gruen sent you this stew,” Nancy said. She smiled. “I can tell you it’s delicious.”
“That housekeeper of yours is a fine, kind woman,” Ira Nixon said. “And she’s one of a few people a man likes to confide in.”
Nancy did not want to upset the mail carrier so she refrained from mentioning Edgar, but Ira brought up the subject himself.
“Would you like to see a picture of Edgar?”
“Oh yes,” Nancy replied.
He brought it from a desk drawer and Nancy gazed at the photograph. As Ira had said, Edgar was handsome, but his eyes were as cold as steel and she instantly felt that he was not a person who could be trusted. She refrained from saying anything, except that he was an attractive-looking man.
Ira Nixon smiled. “The girls always liked him and he liked them, but he never got married.”
“May I borrow this photograph?” Nancy asked.
The mail carrier misunderstood her request. He remarked with a grin, “So you like him too—same as the rest of the ladies.”
Nancy did not comment. He must not know right now she wanted the picture for identification. She rose, and said she must go.
“I’ll put this stew in your refrigerator,” Nancy said.
“Thank you. I’ll have some for my dinner. And please thank Mrs. Gruen.”
Nancy slipped the photograph into her purse, then carried the jar of stew to the kitchen. Driving home, she wondered just how she might use Edgar’s photograph to get more information about him. Nancy decided first to find Tommy and went to his house.
Without telling her suspicions, she held up the photograph for him to look at. Instantly he said, “He’s the man in the yellow coat!”
Nancy was thrilled—this seemed to identify Edgar Nixon positively as the thief who had stolen his half brother’s mail. But before reporting this to the postal inspector, Nancy decided to investigate the gas stations in River Heights and on the outskirts for further proof. She drove from one to another, but none of the attendants remembered ever having seen the man in the photograph.
“Guess he buys his gas somewhere else,” most of them remarked.
Nancy was becoming discouraged. She was about to give up when she recalled having once stopped at a small place on the outskirts of River Heights. The station was on the road leading to Emerson, where Ned’s college was located. She turned the car in that direction and a few minutes later pulled up to the pump. A pleasant young man came to help her.
“Five gallons, please,” Nancy said. When the attendant finished putting it in, she paid him, then pulled out the photograph of Edgar Nixon.
“Has this man ever stopped here for gas?” she asked.
The attendant studied the picture a few moments. “Yes, he’s been in several times. For a moment I didn’t recognize him. When he comes here, he’s always wearing a hat and overcoat.”
“Are they camel’s hair?” Nancy asked quickly.
“That’s the man.”
Nancy inquired if the attendant knew his name and where he lived.
“No. He’s not the talkative type. Somehow I got the idea, though, that he lives in some distant town but comes to River Heights quite often. He never says why.”
“How recently has he been here?”
The man’s answer startled Nancy. “Come to think of it, he stopped yesterday. I suppose you’re trying to find him. Maybe this will help you. He made a phone call from that booth over there and as I went by I heard him say ‘Miss Drew.’ ”
“Is that all you heard?” Nancy asked, astounded.
“That’s all.” The attendant turned away to serve an arriving customer.
Nancy drove off, wondering whether Edgar Nixon could have been talking about her.
As Nancy let herself into the Drew house about twenty minutes later, she was just in time to answer the telephone. Her father was calling.
“Nancy, I’d like you to come down here immediately. I have something amazing to show you.”
“I’ll be there right away.”
She dashed back outside and turned her convertible in the direction of her father’s office. After saying hello to his secretary, Miss Hanson, Nancy went directly into Mr. Drew’s private office.
He handed her a letter, saying, “What do you think of this new mystery?”
Nancy sat down in a big chair and started to read. Her eyes grew larger and larger. The letter was from London on the stationery of Malmsbury and Bates-Jones. It read:
My dear Miss Drew:
This is to inform you it is possible an inheritance has been left to you. We are the legal representatives of the Estate of Jonathan Smith, late of Little Coddington, Midhampton, Berks., who died intestate on May 2, last. Mr. Smith had as only kin a sister, from whom he was estranged, Mrs. Genevieve Smith Drew. We find she predeceased Mr. Smith by five years, leaving a daughter who is Mr. Smith’s sole heir by law.
We have learned that the daughter, Miss Nancy Smith Drew, is in the United States, where our agents have been trying to trace her. You are the only Miss Nancy Drew so far discovered by them, and we beg of you to communicate with us.
If you happen to be the Miss Drew for whom we are searching, will you be so good as to submit proofs of your identity, whereupon we shall be happy to make arrangements for your return to England to claim the inheritance.
Sincerely,
A E. Lionel Bates-Jones
When Nancy finished reading the letter, she looked at her father who had been watching her closely. He smiled. “You were almost an heiress,” the lawyer said with a chuckle.
Nancy sighed. “How I wish I was the right Nancy Drew!”
Her father’s eyes twinkled. “Then you wouldn’t have the fun of a mystery to solve,” he said.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “May I use one of your phones and start trying to find Nancy Smith Drew?”
“Go ahead. In the meantime I’ll make an overseas call to this law firm and tell them the facts.”
Nancy waited while he gave the number, but the lawyer was told that the Atlantic lines would be tied up for several hours. He turned to Nancy. “Maybe you’ll have this case solved before I can put through the phone call!” he teased.
His daughter laughed. “I wish it was that easy.”
Nancy phoned the police department and the post office. Nancy Smith Drew was not known at either place. Directories and telephone books gave no clue.
Nancy said good-by to her father and drove home. Bess and George were there, and were eager to hear the latest news. When Nancy gave them all the facts, the cousins gasped.
George remarked, “Things are certainly breaking fast. Now you have two mysteries on your hands. Well, tell us what we can do to help.”
“Right now I don’t have an idea in my head,” Nancy confessed, “but I’ll let you know.”
She invited the girls to stay to dinner and they accepted at once. Mr. Drew had already told Hannah Gruen he would not be home until later so the four of them ate without him. They had just finished dessert when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” said Nancy.
When she opened the door a strange woman angrily forced her way inside and stepped toward the living room. The caller was poorly dressed in a worn-looking coat. Its collar was pulled up to her stringy, bleached hair.
“You’re Nancy Drew, ain’t you?”
When the girl nodded, the woman added, “You’re the one I’m looking for!”
With that, her fist shot out and she tried to hit Nancy.