Lambs! Sheep! Trucks! The story Ned had told Nancy of the stealing of sheep in the Highlands of Scotland flashed into the young sleuth’s mind.
Could this truck, by any chance, belong to one of the gang?
CHAPTER XII
Strange Midnight Whistle
Nancy ran forward and strained her eyes to catch the license number and make of the mysterious truck. But just then two swiftly running figures dashed up, obscuring her view. Bess and George!
“Nancy, you scared us silly!” Bess complained. “We heard you leave your room and not come back. Why are you out here?”
The young sleuth quickly explained. “Stolen sheep!” George exclaimed. Just as she spoke, the girls heard a whistling sound in the distance. With intermittent stops, it continued for nearly a minute.
“What in the world is that?” Bess queried. Nancy said she thought it was being made on bagpipes.
“I didn’t know you could whistle on bagpipes,” said Bess.
“I suppose you’re going to tell us it’s some kind of a signal!” George guessed.
“I wish I knew,” Nancy said thoughtfully, and led the way back into the house.
Neither Mrs. Drummond nor Fiona had awakened, so it was not until morning that Nancy could tell about the playing of the bagpipes and the truck with a bleating lamb inside. At once Fiona said that the reed for a chanter could be split to make any kind of sound one wished. “But I don’t see why anyone would want to go to the trouble of having it whistle.”
Nancy did not reply but felt that there might indeed be a very good reason. If it were a sinister one, she certainly hoped to find out what it was!
Mrs. Drummond was very much concerned about the possibility of the truck having contained stolen sheep. She hurried to the telephone and called several of her neighbors to report her suspicions. When she rejoined the girls, the woman said:
“Shepherds will go out at once with their dogs to make an investigation. Perhaps you girls would like to hike around to watch.”
“Indeed we would!” said Nancy. “And do you think we should notify the police?”
Mrs. Drummond said she supposed so, but added, “You know, thieves, like lightning, rarely strike in the same place twice. Besides, since we have no good description of the truck, there isn’t much for the authorities to go on.”
George added, “Nancy, you heard only one bleating lamb. Maybe there weren’t any others inside.” Nancy agreed, admitting they had no real evidence.
As soon as breakfast was over, Mrs. Drummond told the girls which direction to take to watch the shepherds and their dogs. After hiking to a hillside, they saw a shepherd dressed in clothes much like a hunter’s, working with a black-and-white collie. It was rounding up sheep and bringing them to the man’s side. Fiona said this was called shedding.
The Americans found it particularly fascinating to watch the strays, especially those with baby lambs. Once, an argumentative ewe was trying to keep her lamb from obeying the dog. She and her baby were pure white except for their black noses and feet. The girls laughed as the dog won out and succeeded in leading mother and daughter to the shepherd.
|
|
Bess, noticing a small daub of red paint just in front of the sheeps’ tails, asked Fiona what this was for.
“It identifies the flock, which wanders all over,” the Scottish girl replied. “Another farmer will use blue.”
They talked for a few minutes with the shepherd, who said his dog was one of the best in the country. “He has won prizes in contests of cutting out sheep. Would you like to see him do it?” the man asked.
“Oh, yes!” the girls chorused.
He asked them to stand off at a little distance. As the collie waited, the shepherd went into the center of the assembled flock and laid his hand on the head of one of the sheep. Then he walked back to where the girls were standing.
“Trixie,” he said to the dog, “bring me that sheep!”
The dog was off at once. He wound his way in and out among the animals, pushing softly at various ones and nosing at the legs of a few, to make a path for the designated sheep to get out. Now he worried the chosen ewe, which gamboled quickly to the man’s side. The whole procedure had taken less than a minute!
“That’s marvelous!” Nancy exclaimed.
As she stood admiring the ewe, she suddenly felt a tug on her jacket and looked down to find that the sheep had a button in its mouth! Nancy laughed and extricated it.
The shepherd grinned. “There’s almost nothing a sheep won’t try the taste of.”
The girls thanked him for the demonstration, then hurried back to the Drummond croft. They learned from their hostess that during the night a large number of sheep had disappeared from one of the nearby farms.
“A large number?” Bess asked. “Could very many stand up in that truck you saw, Nancy?”
The young detective had a theory. “It’s my guess they weren’t standing up. The thieves put them to sleep, but one lamb had revived by the time I heard it. The unconscious sheep, no doubt, were piled in that truck!”
“How cruel!” Bess cried out.
Mrs. Drummond smiled ruefully. “Thieves are never kind, gentle people,” she remarked. “But your idea is a good one, Nancy. Perhaps we should report it to the police.”
“They might think my idea farfetched,” said Nancy. “Let’s wait until I have some concrete evidence.”
At that moment the telephone rang, and after answering it, Mrs. Drummond told Nancy that her car was ready. “I’d like you girls to stay for a while, though. I’m enjoying your company. But when you’re ready to go, I’ll drive you to the garage.”
“Thank you,” said Nancy. “I think as soon as we help you tidy the house, we had better be on our way.”
As the girls were about to leave, Nancy found to her embarrassment that Mrs. Drummond would not take a farthing from her guests. This proved to be the case also with the garageman. He insisted that Nancy’s being pushed into the water was bad enough treatment for the visitors, and the least the natives could do for the girls was to speed them on their way without charge.
|
|
Nancy was about to insist on some kind of reimbursement when Fiona touched her arm and whispered, “Please do not say any more. These people will be offended.”
Mrs. Drummond gave Nancy a little farewell squeeze and said, “If you can solve the mystery of the stolen sheep, that will be wonderful pay for all of us.”
The girls climbed into the sports car, now clean and shiny, and took the road to Fort William. When they reached the attractive town with its colorful waterfront and many historic points of interest, they went sightseeing, then had luncheon at a hotel.
Afterward, Fiona took them to a museum. The girls found the quaint objects on display interesting, but what fascinated them most was a unique kind of portrait.
On a table lay a small, circular oil painting which looked like nothing else but daubs in various colors. At the center of the picture stood a cylindrical mirrored tube. When the girls looked into it, they could see the reflection of a handsome young man in Georgian clothes.
“He is our famous Bonnie Prince Charlie,” Fiona explained, “grandson of King James II, and son of the Old Pretender, who lived in exile in France. In 1745 the young Charles returned to Scotland and gathered the Highlanders under his banner. He was badly defeated at the Battle of Culloden Moor and hid out in the glens and hills.
“There were still many people in Scotland who would have liked him to win. One of these was a woman named Flora MacDonald. She had the prince disguise himself in her maid’s clothes, which enabled him to escape and return to France.”
“How romantic!” Bess murmured. “And oh, isn’t he handsome!”
Fiona giggled. “Yes, but history tells us he did not marry until he was fifty-two.”
“Better late than never,” Bess said dreamily.
As the girls walked from the building, Fiona said that since the Americans were now going to Douglas House, she felt she should say good-by and go on to the Isle of Skye. Instantly Nancy, Bess, and George urged her not to leave them.
“If you’re not in a hurry to get home,” said Nancy, “I’d love to have you guide us around. That will be very helpful in our sleuthing.”
“In that case, I’ll be happy to stay with you,” Fiona said. “And I should like very much to meet your great-grandmother, Nancy.”
“And I want you to,” Nancy replied.
Nancy’s heart began to beat faster. At last she was going to meet the wonderful great-grandmother about whom she had heard so much!
|
|
CHAPTER XIII
A Surprise Announcement
The girls traveled on a main road for some time and stopped for luncheon at a small hotel. It stood at a corner of the country road they were to follow next. The visitors were in mountainous country now, and when they set off again, Bess began to worry about the narrowness of the road.
“What do we do if a car comes the other way?” she asked, fearful that another accident would befall Nancy’s automobile.
A moment later Fiona pointed to a turnout at the side of the road. “You will find many of these lay-bys on all the narrow roads in Scotland,” she said.
Bess relaxed and turned her attention to the beautiful scenery. She mentioned a yellow-flowered plant which grew along the roadside. “That’s lovely. What is it?”
“We call it gorse,” the Scottish girl replied. She smiled. “It blooms the year round, and there is an old saying that when gorse stops blooming, kissing will go out of fashion!”
The American girls laughed and George remarked with a twinkle in her eyes, “Bess, how about you taking home a couple of bushes to plant?”
Bess tossed her head. “What’s the matter with kissing?”
About four o’clock Fiona said that she believed the grounds of Douglas House lay just ahead. The car climbed a particularly steep hill, which was flat on top. At the far end the girls could see the many chimneys of the large residence. There was an extensive area of grass and the landscape of the estate was dotted with stately sycamores, beech, and silver birch trees.
A beautiful garden surrounded the palatial home. Many flowers were already in bloom. To one side of the house was a small pond bordered by Douglas fir trees.
“What a magnificent place!” said Bess. “Nancy, I don’t see why you and your father don’t come here to live!”
Fiona spoke up. “It is lovely at this time of year,” she said. “But it is very lonesome in winter, when the winds howl and the atmosphere is damp and cheerless.”
“But you like it,” George commented.
“When you’re brought up in the Highlands, then you do,” the Scottish girl answered. “But if you are not used to the ruggedness, it can make you melancholy.”
Nancy pulled up to the main entrance of the huge gray stone building. Bess, intrigued by the many small, leaded-glass windows, began to count them. She had reached thirty when the front door was opened by a man whom the girls assumed was the butler.
“I am glad you and your friends made a safe journey, Miss Drew,” he said, and led the visitors through the spacious center hall into a high-ceilinged living room. “I will announce your arrival to Lady Douglas.”
Even though Nancy had heard about Douglas House since her childhood, she was overwhelmed by its grandeur. On the floor were priceless Oriental rugs. The furniture was a combination of beautifully carved oak pieces and small, dainty French gilt tables and chairs.
There were two enormous, exquisitely painted Japanese lamps, and in the rear of the room was a large hanging tapestry. It depicted a scene of a young woman, dressed in a flowing robe and a bonnet, standing high on the balcony of a castle and looking at a jousting match between two knights armed with lances.
“Oh, those exciting old days!” Bess murmured.
In a few moments the butler reappeared and said Lady Douglas would see her visitors upstairs.
They followed him up the heavily carpeted stairway, which had a room-sized landing, to the second story.
Here the walls were lined with portraits in oils, apparently of deceased members of the Douglas clan. Finally the girls paused before the pleasant, elegantly furnished living room of Lady Douglas’ suite. The servant stepped inside and announced them.
“Thank you, Tweedie,” came a rather high but musical voice.
“So the butler’s name is Tweedie!” Nancy thought. “I love it!”
She entered the room first and found herself looking upon a very slender, frail, white-haired woman with a beautiful face and of dignified mien.
Nancy made a slight curtsy and said, “Lady Douglas, I am so happy to be here.”
The elderly woman arose and smiled. “No need for medieval formality, my dear,” she said. “I am your great-grandmother and I would much prefer to have you call me that.”
Nancy was delighted. She and her great-grandmother embraced. Nancy now turned to her friends and introduced them one by one. They were warmly welcomed and Lady Douglas said that she would be very pleased to have Fiona remain also.
“Now, let us all be seated.” Lady Douglas indicated a grouping of brocaded chairs. “Morag will serve tea.”
She pulled a bell cord on the wall near her, and shortly a middle-aged woman, who reminded Nancy of Hannah Gruen, appeared. She wore the conventional maid’s black dress and small white apron, but the cap on her head was quite different from anything the Americans had seen. It was a frilly halt-bonnet, with two long black streamers down the back.
The maid wheeled in a teacart which contained dainty, blue-flowered china, an ornate silver tea service, and several plates of tiny sandwiches and cakes.
For the next half hour the group chatted and ate the delicious food. Nancy found herself feeling that she had known her great-grandmother for years. There was an instant sense of closeness between the two.
Although eager to hear more of the missing heirloom, Nancy refrained from bringing up the subject. Finally Lady Douglas herself did so. It was apparent that the elderly woman felt Fiona, too, could be trusted with a secret, and said:
“The heirloom which Nancy was to have received was my most prized possession. It was a brooch with a large topaz in the center surrounded by diamonds.”
Nancy gasped. “What a wonderful gift! It must be gorgeous!”
Her great-grandmother nodded. “The brooch was given to an ancestor of mine by Bonnie Prince Charlie.”
“Oh!” Bess exclaimed. “The handsome, romantic young man who got away in a maid’s disguise?”
Lady Douglas smiled. “He is the one.” Then her face took on a serious expression. “Nancy, I have spent many sleepless nights since losing the pin. I last remember taking it from the safe to see if it were in proper condition to give you. The brooch appeared to be all right, and I pinned it to my dress to see how it looked.
“At that moment the room seemed a little stuffy, so I decided to go outdoors and take a walk in the garden. When I returned, it was my bedtime. I took off the dress and hung it in my wardrobe. It was not until the next morning that I thought of the brooch and decided to put it back in the safe. The pin was gone!”
“How very unfortunate!” Fiona said.
“Indeed it was,” Lady Douglas agreed. “At first I thought the brooch had become unclasped and dropped off during my walk. But every part of the house and garden where I had been was thoroughly searched, and the pin was not found.”
“You are sure you lost it?” Nancy asked.
Her relative asked wryly, “You think I might have absent-mindedly misplaced it?”
“No, Great-Grandmother dear,” Nancy answered. “I wondered if it might have been stolen.”
Lady Douglas looked somewhat startled. “But there was no one here except Tweedie and Morag. They are my only two servants, and both are strictly honest.”
“I wasn’t thinking of them,” Nancy said quickly. “Perhaps your brooch did drop off outdoors, and some outsider who came here found the jewel and took it.”
“That is a possibility, of course,” Lady Douglas replied. “But not many people come to this lonely spot. I had a fine watchdog, but the dear creature died the very night I lost the brooch.”
All this time, Nancy had been thinking of the newspaper article in the River Heights Graphic. She had never given up the idea that a thief or thieves had the heirloom and he had given out misleading information concerning it. But she said nothing about it.
After the tea hour was over, the visitors were shown to their rooms. Bess and George began to unpack, but Nancy and Fiona decided to go outdoors and make a search of their own. There was not a sign of the brooch, but the two girls spotted deep boot prints leading from a field at the rear of Douglas House, and back across it.
“These were certainly made by a bigger, heavier man than Tweedie,” Nancy remarked.
Seeing him at work pruning some bushes, she walked over to speak to him. He assured her that he had not made the prints and that to his knowledge no other man had been on the grounds.
“Then some stranger was here very recently, perhaps even last night, no doubt spying on the house,” said Nancy. “Tweedie, do you realize that these boot marks might belong to someone who was here the night Lady Douglas lost the brooch, and that the same person might have killed your watchdog?”
The man looked startled. “Champion didn’t look as if he had been hurt and we couldn’t figure out what had caused his death.”
Suddenly Nancy recalled her theory about the sheep thieves anesthetizing the stolen animals. Could the same method have been used on the dog, Champion, so that he could not alert those in the house?”
Another disturbing possibility occurred to Nancy. “So far the thief has taken only the brooch,” she thought. “He may have come the second time to do a really big theft job!”
Nancy turned to the servant. “Tweedie,” she said, “maybe there was a thief in the house last night. Let’s find out if anything has been stolen.”
CHAPTER XIV
Trouble on the Mountain
Tweedie raised himself proudly to his full height. “Miss Nancy, nothing could be stolen from Douglas House. Every door and window is wired to a burglar alarm. If anyone should try to sneak in, the bell would sound and the thief would soon be caught.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Nancy replied, “because there are certainly some valuable pieces of furniture and silver. It is wonderful to think that sightseers from all over the world will come here and enjoy looking at the beautiful old house and grounds and the treasures inside it.”
“From the first families of Scotland!” Tweedie added with pride, and walked off to continue pruning the bushes.
A few minutes later George and Bess joined the two girls. They all strolled around the grounds, at the same time reviewing the various points in the mystery. Nancy said she was convinced the brooch had been stolen.
“But by whom?” Bess asked. No one could venture a guess.
“One thing puzzles me,” George declared. “If the thief who took the brooch got away safely, why would he or any of his gang try so hard to keep you from coming to Scotland, Nancy?”
“Yes, why?” Bess echoed. “Don’t forget, George and I might have been killed along with you near Loch Lomond. And in the last accident—Fiona, too.”
Nancy said it indicated one thing to her. “There is something bigger involved. My heirloom may be only an incidental aspect. I believe that whatever is going on actually has nothing to do with Douglas House.
“This may be a wild theory on my part, but I believe now that the same men who are stealing sheep took my brooch. They feared that if I were able to track them down, I would also uncover clues to their racket.”
Fiona looked at the young sleuth admiringly. “I can see why you are an internationally known girl detective.”
Bess was thoughtful. “In other words, Paul Petrie from River Heights, the mysterious Mr. Dewar, and the red-bearded man are in the sheep racket together!” Nancy nodded.
George had another thought. “Nancy, you suspected the men who moved out of that houseboat. Do you suppose the stolen brooch might have been there?”
“Maybe,” said Bess, “but you couldn’t hide a whole flock of sheep!” The girls laughed.
Nancy was not ready to stop talking about the mystery. “Since we suspect smuggling, wool and hides could have been hidden in the houseboat until it was time for shipment, maybe to the United States. That’s where Paul Petrie might come into the picture.”
“That’s right!” said Fiona. “If the authorities are looking for missing live sheep, perhaps they wouldn’t be looking for wool or hides.”
The four girls walked along in silence for fully a minute. Then Nancy said, “Tomorrow let’s take a ride to that road where I heard the bleating inside the truck.”
“You mean go back to the area near Mrs. Drummond’s croft?” Bess asked.
Nancy nodded and turned to Fiona. “Where could that truck have been coming from? If we go in that direction, we might pick up a clue.”
Fiona said that the truck would be coming from the glen at the foot of Ben Nevis. Her face brightened in anticipation. “I have an idea. Why don’t we camp out overnight? The glen is a lovely spot, popular with many mountain climbers. They even have running races up and down Ben Nevis.”
George was intrigued. “How high is the mountain?”
“About forty-four hundred feet.”
Bess looked aghast. “You say they run up?”
“That’s right.”
George grinned. “I want to see that place, mystery or no mystery!”
The American girls were thrilled by the idea of camping out, and later Nancy asked Lady Douglas about equipment they could use. After dinner, Nancy’s great-grandmother took the girls on a tour of the mansion.
“We’ll end our trip in the attic,” she added, “and you girls can look there for proper hiking and camping clothes.”
As the tour went on, Bess thought she had never seen such an assortment of armor and so many oil portraits in one place. There was even a knight’s armor standing in a corner!
The attic was not in the least what Nancy had expected. It was very large and handsomely furnished. Lady Douglas said it had once been a game room, where the men of Douglas House and their guests played billiards. Now there was the usual collection of old furniture, books, and trunks.
“You will find all sorts of clothes and blankets in the trunks,” said Nancy’s great-grandmother. “Help yourself to anything appropriate you can find.”
The visitors were intrigued by the contents of the trunks. There were many kilt skirts, white blouses, long black socks, and various kinds of caps worn by Scottish girls.
Nancy had a sudden idea. “These would make good disguises,” she said, then stopped speaking, not wishing to worry Lady Douglas with what was going through her mind. But the other girls immediately got her message.
“Let’s try some on!” George urged.
To Nancy’s surprise, the tartan outfits belonged to several clans, and she asked her great-grandmother about this. The elderly woman smiled. “Various relatives in our family came from different clans and brought these costumes with them.”
After trying on a few combinations, Fiona chose the Ogilvy tartan of small red-and-pale-blue checks with lines of white. George’s black hair was set off by the yellow-and-black plaid of the McLeods of Lewis.
Bess looked very pretty in the Stewart dress, a combination of large white squares interspersed with stripes of pale green and red.
“Nancy, I’m glad that you chose the Cameron tartan of my mother,” said Lady Douglas. “It is very becoming.” Nancy did look attractive in the flashy tartan of large bright-red squares edged with stripes of dark green.
“You’re sure you don’t mind our borrowing these?” she asked her great-grandmother. “They may become soiled or torn on our camping trip.”
Lady Douglas assured her that the costumes were not valuable and had been worn many, many times before. “I am sorry that I do not have sleeping bags or bedrolls, but in one of these trunks you will find knapsacks and warm blankets.”
After the necessary equipment had been collected, the group went downstairs. Morag was told about the trip, and by the time the girls were ready to leave the following morning she had packed enough food for three good meals.
Morag admired the girls as they started off. “Aye, and ye be lookin’ like bonnie Highland lassies for sure!”
The girls smilingly thanked her and said good-by. Fiona directed Nancy to drive by a shortcut to the road which went past Mrs. Drummond’s croft and on to Ben Nevis. The foursome looked for any possible clues to the sheep rustlers—an encampment, or a place where a truck might have pulled off the road. They found nothing of significance.
When the girls reached the glen, they crossed a bridge over a waterfall that cascaded from a rushing, boulder-filled mountain stream.
“This scenery is gorgeous!” Bess exclaimed.
On either side mountains rose sharply but not too steeply for climbing. Rocks were interspersed with trees and bushes. Here and there grew patches of heather, its colorful purple tint giving the slope a friendly look.
The road ran alongside the water. Here and there were protected areas that Fiona said were for campers. Presently they met a group of hikers, who were about to start a race up Ben Nevis.
Nancy pulled to the side of the road and the girls got out to watch. There were four boys dressed in white trunks and jerseys with their school insigne. One boy, seeing Fiona, hailed her.
“Wish me luck!” he called. “We will run to the big pine tree. The fastest time up and back is twenty minutes.”
She nodded and told the girls he was distantly related to her. The Americans were amazed at the agility and swiftness of the boys as they literally ran up the mountainside. As they neared the tree, Fiona said, “Aye, that is good. My cousin Ian is ahead!”
Ian was the first to start down the slope. This feat seemed far more dangerous than going up. By now all four girls were looking at their wrist-watches. Fiona exclaimed, “I think my cousin will equal the record!”
Ian did. His time was exactly twenty minutes, while his companions were clocked at twenty-five, twenty-eight, and thirty minutes.
The Scottish girl introduced her cousin and the other boys, who immediately invited Fiona and her friends to join a group of campers up the river.
“Fiona, you know several of the girls,” said lan.
The offer was readily accepted and soon Nancy, Bess, and George were meeting Fiona’s other attractive Scottish friends, most of them wearing kilts. Some campers were from the Isle of Skye and others from the town of Inverness. The Americans were made to feel at home at once.
There was a lot of chatter and laughter among the young people while they unpacked food kits. Soon everyone was eating luncheon.
Above the hum of conversation Nancy became aware of distant music. Suddenly she sat bolt upright. A few bars were being played over and over on a bagpipe, apparently somewhere far up on the mountain. The melody was Scots, Wha Hae!
Nancy strained her eyes to see the player, but no one was in sight. Was he just over a ridge? The young detective began to recall various incidents and finally a startling thought entered her mind. Was that particular tune, by any chance, played whenever she was around? “And could it possibly be piped by Mr. Dewar to let his partners know I’m in the area?” Nancy mused.
Her three friends had not noticed the bagpipe music, which ended abruptly. She quickly told them about it. “I’d like to climb the mountain and look for clues to that mysterious piper!”
At once Bess said, “You might be walking right into a trap!”
Nancy smiled. “If you’ll all come with me, there shouldn’t be any danger.”
George said practically, “That’s the only way I’d let you go.”
Presently the girls told the other campers where they were going and started off. The climb was hot and arduous, so there was little conversation. Nancy and Fiona forged ahead, but Bess and George did not make such good time. Finally Bess caught up. “Where’s George?” Nancy asked.
Bess replied that her cousin had wanted to take a faster route to the ridge. “She wouldn’t wait.”
At that moment the trio heard George scream. They whirled about and gasped in horror. A short distance away on the mountainside George was just being given a hard push by the stranger who had forced their car into the water.
“The red-bearded man again!” Bess cried out.
His shove knocked George to the ground. The next moment she started rolling down the steep slope head over heels! Her assailant fled toward a shoulder of the mountaintop!
