Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I - Stolen Letters
CHAPTER II - Vanished Money
CHAPTER III - A Baffling Note
CHAPTER IV - Doubtful Inheritance
CHAPTER V - The Mysterious Gift
CHATTER. VI - A Good Lead
CHAPTER VII - The Wrecked Car
CHAPTER VIII - Disheartening Request
CHAPTER IX - “He’s Not a Suspect!”
CHAPTER X - Search for a Bride
CHAPTER XI - The Strange Messages
CHAPTER XII - A Fresh Puzzle
CHAPTER XIII - Locked In
CHAPTER XIV - Elusive Niece
CHAPTER XV - A Worse Mix-up
CHAPTER XVI - Mistaken Identity
CHAPTER XVII - Fake Summons
CHAPTER XVIII - Skakespearean Puzzle
CHAPTER XIX - A Trap
CHAPTER XX - Shattered Bells
NANCY’S MYSTERIOUS LETTER
BY mistake Nancy Drew receives a letter from England intended for an heiress, also named Nancy Drew. When Nancy undertakes a search for the missing young woman, it becomes obvious that a ruthless, dangerous man is determined to prevent her from finding the heiress or himself. Clues that Nancy unearths lead her to believe that the villainous Edgar Nixon plans to marry the heiress and then steal her inheritance.
During her investigation Nancy discovers that Nixon is engaged in a racket that involves many innocent, trusting persons. The thrilling hunt for Nixon and the heiress takes Nancy in and out of many perilous situations.
How the teen-age detective saves the British heiress from the sly, cunning schemer makes a highly intriguing story of mystery and suspense.
Ned pulled Nancy down to the pavement
Copyright © 1996, 1968, 1932 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam &
Grosset Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A.
NANCY DREW MYSTERY STORIES® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 68-15295
eISBN : 978-1-101-07709-2
http://us.penguingroup.com
CHAPTER I
Stolen Letters
“OH, poor Ira!” Nancy Drew exclaimed and slowed her convertible.
The two girls with her turned to look toward the sidewalk. Trudging along was an elderly mail carrier. He was lugging a heavy bag over one shoulder. His head was down and his eyes were almost closed against the strong November wind that swirled leaves and dirt around him.
“Mr. Nixon!” Nancy called out of her open window. “Let me give you a ride.”
The mail carrier looked up and managed a smile. “Hello, Nancy,” he said. “Thank you, but I have to stop at every house. Lots of letters today. There’s one in the bottom of my bag for you. It was sent air mail from London, England.”
“How exciting!” Nancy said. “Well, I’ll see you at the house.” She added, “I’ll have some hot cocoa waiting for you.”
Mr. Nixon smiled and Nancy drove on.
“I don’t know anyone in London,” she said to her friends. “Who could be writing to me?”
The attractive, titian-blond, blue-eyed girl at once became lost in thought.
“Another mystery probably,” remarked her dark-haired companion, George Fayne. George was an attractive, slender girl, who kept her hair short and always wore tailored clothes.
Her cousin, seated next to her, was blond and slightly overweight. When Bess Marvin grinned, her deep dimples showed prominently. “Maybe you have an unknown admirer in England, Nancy,” she said.
George gave Bess a dark look. “Do you always have to think of the romantic side of things?”
Bess tossed her head. “What’s more fun?” she retorted.
The three girls were returning from an overnight visit to Red Gate Farm, where at one time Nancy, with the help of her two friends, had captured a counterfeiting gang. The solving of that mystery had been followed by Nancy’s tracking down The Clue in the Diary.
The trunk of Nancy’s convertible was filled with fruits and vegetables from the farm. When she reached the rear of her home, the Drews’ housekeeper, Mrs. Hannah Gruen, opened the door and rushed down the steps.
“Nancy, you’re home!” she cried out, and gave the girl a hug. “Hello, Bess. Hello, George.”
As Nancy unlocked the trunk of her car, she said, “We met Ira Nixon down the street. He’s bringing another mystery!” She told the housekeeper about the letter from England. “Poor Ira is half-frozen. I promised him some hot cocoa When he gets here.”
“I’ll go right in and make it,” said Mrs. Gruen. “You girls unload the car. My, what a lot of stuff and it smells wonderful!”
Nancy and her friends had just finished putting the farm products into the Drews’ cold cellar when the front doorbell rang. Nancy hastened to answer it.
Mr. Nixon stood there. As he set his mailbag down in the vestibule, Nancy thought, “He looks so exhausted, I hope he can finish out the year until his January retirement.”
She led the way into the living room. Nancy, although eager to see her mail, resisted the temptation to ask for it. She would wait until he was ready to give it to her.
A few moments later Bess came In carrying a tray with four cups of cocoa. Behind her was George with a big plate of homemade cookies. Hannah Gruen, who had lived with Nancy and her father since the death of the girl’s mother when she was three years old, was an excellent cook. She enjoyed baking and often surprised the family with delicious cakes and pies.
Ira Nixon sipped his cocoa slowly. He nibbled on a cookie and slowly color came into his thin face. Hannah Gruen walked in with a pot of cocoa and refilled everyone’s cup. As the mail carrier finished the second cup of cocoa, he said he must be on his way.
“I almost forgot to give you your letter,” Mr. Nixon said as he stood up, and went directly to the vestibule.
A moment later the girls heard him cry out and rushed to his side.
“What’s the matter?” Nancy asked.
“The letters! They’re gone!”
“What do you mean?” George asked, peering into the bag. There was nothing in it but magazines.
“All the letters still to be delivered have been stolen!” Ira Nixon exclaimed.
He began to sway and the girls quickly grabbed hold of him. They led him back to the living-room sofa.
“Oh dear! Oh dear!” he moaned. “Only six weeks more to my retirement and now this disgrace!”
Bess tried to soothe him. “But it wasn’t your fault.”
“It’s a rule that a mail carrier must keep his bag with him at all times,” the man said.
“All the letters have been stolen!” the mailman
exclaimed
Suddenly George turned to Nancy. “Your letter from England! Now you’ll never know who sent it.”
“And that’s not the worst of it,” Ira Nixon spoke up. “I also had a registered letter for Mr. Drew. There may have been an important document in it.”
The girls and Hannah Gruen looked at one another. Almost instantly, Nancy sprang into action.
“The thief can’t be far away,” she said. “We must try to catch him!”
The three girls put on their coats and dashed out the front door. The Drew home stood well back from the street and was reached by a curving driveway.
“You girls go left,” Nancy suggested. “I’ll go to the right.”
They ran to the street and looked in all directions. Bess and Georg
e, seeing no one, hurried to the corner. Then George went left and Bess right.
In the meantime Nancy had spotted little Tommy Johnson, who was riding his tricycle on the sidewalk. She hurried to talk to him.
“Hi, Nancy!” he called out. “I just made a new record. Want to see how fast I can go?”
“Some other time, Tommy,” she answered. “Tell me, have you been riding past our house?”
“Sure thing.”
“Did you see anybody come from there in the past few minutes?” Nancy asked the five-year-old.
“Yep. A man.”
“What did he look like?”
Tommy thought for a moment. “Well, he—he was real thin and he was taller than you and he was in an awful hurry.”
“What was he wearing?” Nancy prodded.
Tommy giggled. “A yellow coat and hat.”
Nancy was puzzled. “You mean a yellow raincoat and rain hat?”
“Nope. It was a winter coat and hat like my daddy wears.”
“And it was yellow?” Nancy asked.
Tommy nodded. Then he grinned. “Nancy, While I was racin’ I was playin’ ’tective like you. I can tell you something else.”
Nancy stooped down so that she was on eye level with Tommy. “Tell me everything,” she pleaded.
“Will you give me a ’tective’s badge if I do?” he asked.
“I sure will,” Nancy promised. “Now tell me quickly what else you can about the man in the yellow coat.”
“I can’t tell you anything else about him, but I know something about his car.”
“Oh, he was in a car?”
“He sure was,” Tommy replied, and began to laugh. “It was a beat-up old thing. I guess he’s pretty poor.”
“What color was the car?” Nancy asked.
“Same as his coat.” Tommy paused and then said, his eyes twinkling, “You know what? I remember some of his license plate. The first part was TJ just like my name.”
Nancy asked excitedly, “Do you remember the number?”
“Not all of it. It was too long. But the first two numbers were 1-2.”
“Oh, Tommy, you’ve been a wonderful help to me,” Nancy said, giving the little boy a hug. “One more question. Did you see the man carrying anything in his hand?”
“Yep. He had a lot of letters and he was stuffin’ ’em into his pockets.”
Nancy realized that the suspect by this time was too far away for her to find. But she was excited by the excellent clues the little boy had given her. She thanked him and returned home.
At the front door she met Bess and George. Her friends reported they had had no luck. Nancy told them what she had learned. As soon as they entered the house, she hurried to the living room. Ira Nixon sat slumped in the comer of the sofa, but when he saw the girls he looked up hopefully.
“Did you find out anything about the letters?” he asked.
“I didn’t find the thief,” Nancy answered, “but I did pick up an excellent clue. Mr. Nixon, do you know a tall, slender man who wears a yellow overcoat and hat, and has a beat-up car with the license plate TJ12? I don’t know the rest of the numbers.”
To the surprise of Hannah Gruen and the girls, Ira Nixon uttered a cry of dismay. The blood drained from his face. He put his hands over his cheeks and exclaimed, “No, no! It couldn’t be! Oh, what will I do?”
Ira Nixon slumped forward in a faint!
CHAPTER II
Vanished Money
WHEN the mail carrier did not respond to first-aid treatment by Hannah Gruen and the girls, the housekeeper insisted they call a doctor.
“I’ll telephone Dr. Amundson up the street,” Nancy offered. He was not the Drews’ physician, but she was sure that in this emergency he would come.
The line was busy and continued to be so. George became nervously impatient. “Oh, why bother? I can run up there just as fast.” She grabbed her coat and went out the door.
While Mrs. Gruen continued to administer first aid to the unconscious mail carrier, she told Nancy and Bess more about him. Ira Nixon was a bachelor and lived in a small house on the other side of River Heights. It had belonged to his mother, who had survived two husbands. When she died, it was learned she had willed the property and a small amount of money to Ira.
But now a half brother, thirty years younger, was demanding fifty per cent of the money. So far, Ira had refused because the inheritance had actually belonged to Ira’s father and the mother had kept it all these years for his son.
“Ira told me his half brother Edgar has been very nasty lately and has even threatened to go to court to upset the will.”
“Poor Mr. Nixon,” Bess said softly.
The housekeeper went on to say that Edgar had become very obnoxious and had almost succeeded in intimidating Ira. She sighed, “Probably Ira won’t be able to hold out much longer—he’s too old and weak to resist.”
“Where does this half brother live?” Nancy asked.
“Ira doesn’t know. Edgar never would tell him. And also, he would never tell him what business he was in. Only yesterday when Ira came here with the mail, he told me that Edgar had been to see him the night before and became furious when Ira would not give him any money. He called him all sorts of dreadful names and finally said, ”I’ll make you suffer for this! I’ll ruin you!”
Hannah’s last statement gave Nancy an idea. “Do you suppose the person who stole the mail could have been Edgar Nixon?” she asked.
“I’ll bet it was,” Bess replied. “When you described him to Ira, the poor old man recognized who he was and that’s why he fainted. Edgar must be an absolutely despicable person.”
The others agreed. Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of George with the doctor. The girls went to the kitchen during the examination that followed, but Hannah Gruen remained with Ira.
Nancy said she should notify the police and the postal inspector about the theft. “And I’d better call Dad, too.”
When her friend Police Chief McGinnis came on the wire she gave him the story.
“We’ll put out an alarm for the man in the yellow coat,” he told her.
Nancy next called the River Heights post office. The postal inspector was not in, but an investigative aide took the message and said he would pass the word along.
Nancy’s third call was to her father’s office. Mr. Drew was a prominent attorney and his daughter always felt flattered when he asked her opinion or advice on a case where a mystery was involved. In a few minutes Mr. Drew’s secretary put the attorney on the line.
“Dad, we’ve had some real excitement at the house this morning,” she said, and proceeded to tell him what had happened. “Ira Nixon hasn’t regained consciousness yet. The doctor is here now.”
“Well, you are full of news,” Mr. Drew said. “Keep me informed on what’s happening. Now about this registered letter. I’m afraid it may have contained a large sum of money.”
Nancy was horrified. Did the thief know this and was it the reason he had waited for a chance to steal the mail?
“Where was the letter from?” she asked. “Isn’t it unusual for people to send money through the mail nowadays?”
“Indeed it is, and a very bad thing to do,” the lawyer replied. “I suspect that this registered letter may have come from a client of mine, Mrs. Quigley. I take care of most of her affairs and she sends me money every so often. I’ve told her repeatedly to mail me only checks, but I have a hunch that she has ignored my advice again.”
“Does she always send her letters to the house?” Nancy asked.
“Usually,” Mr. Drew answered. “I’ll call her at once and find out if—Hold the line a moment, Nancy.”
She waited several seconds, then her father came back on the line. “My secretary has just buzzed me to say that Mrs. Quigley is in the outer office. I’ll talk to her and call you back.”
While waiting, Nancy told Bess and George about the client who insisted upon sending large amounts of money throu
gh the mail. It was not long before Mr. Drew called back.
“Hello? Nancy? ... What I feared is true. Mrs. Quigley feels very bad about the whole thing. We are sure it was her letter that was stolen.”
“Oh, Dad, this makes an embarrassing situation for you, doesn’t it?” Nancy queried.
“Yes, it does,” her father replied. “Having my client’s money stolen from my house!” Then he added, “How’s Ira Nixon?”
Nancy put down the phone and hurried toward the living room, calling out, “Mrs. Gruen, my father is on the line. He wants to know how Mr. Nixon is.”
“He’s coming around,” the housekeeper answered. “The doctor says he’ll have to go to the hospital, though, for a complete checkup.”
Nancy ran back to the kitchen and reported this to her father. He sighed in relief. “I’m glad the poor old man is regaining consciousness,” he said. “Well, I must talk to Mrs. Quigley now. See you at dinner.”
Mrs. Gruen came to tell the girls that they might return to the living room. Dr. Amundson explained that he must get back to his office immediately to see a number of patients who were waiting.
“Mrs. Gruen has kindly offered to get in touch with Mr. Nixon’s regular doctor,” he said. “She will ask him to make arrangements for an ambulance to come from River Heights Hospital and take Mr. Nixon there. He’s recovering nicely, but he shouldn’t go home yet.”
Ira’s physician promised to be at the hospital by the time his patient reached there. The ambulance would arrive at the Drew home in about twenty minutes. Nancy was eager to ask the carrier some questions, but realized he was in no condition to discuss his brother. “Especially one who is so mean to him,” she thought.
Ira Nixon himself brought up the subject of the missing letters. “I feel better now. Guess that doctor’s shot put new life into me. Sorry I can’t tell you where your father’s registered letter came from. I didn’t notice.”
Nancy asked gently, “Did you, by any chance, see the return address on the envelope to me?”
Ira Nixon closed his eyes and his brow furrowed as he tried to remember. Finally he said, “Seems to me your letter was not from one person. It was more like three names.”
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