Nancy's Mysterious Letter (8 page)

Nancy thanked the clerk and motioned for the girls to follow her up the stairs. The justice of the peace was a short, rotund man with a jolly look. He seemed amused by Nancy’s inquiry. She guessed that he was thinking, “This girl’s disappointed about losing her fiancé and is trying to find out about his elopement with someone else!”

“I haven’t married anybody for a month,” the justice of the peace said, “and never anyone named Edgar Nixon or Nancy Drew.”

He suggested that one of the clergymen in town might have performed the ceremony. “Suppose I give you a list,” he said, “and you can go around and find out for yourself.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a pad. In a few moments he had written out a rather long list.

“I appreciate this,” Nancy said. “Because of the storm I don’t think I’ll try visiting all these people.”

The justice of the peace told her there was a pay telephone booth in the main lobby of the building. “You’ll keep drier if you try calling up, instead of going out in the snow.”

Nancy agreed, thanked the man for his help, and went downstairs with the girls. They pooled their coins and took turns dialing the names on the list. Fortunately all the men were at home, but said that they had not performed any marriage ceremony for a couple of weeks. Furthermore, they had had no requests for any during the next week.

When Nancy completed the last call, Bess remarked, “Nancy, you look pretty downcast. This trip in the snow is all for nothing.”

George tried to cheer up her friend. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t we go back to Mrs. Hemmer’s and ask if she would mind our looking for clues in Edgar’s room?”

Nancy thought it was an excellent idea and once more the girls plowed through the snowy streets to the guesthouse.

“You’re back?” the woman remarked. “Wouldn’ t your car start?”

“To tell the truth, I haven’t tried it,” Nancy answered. “Mrs. Hemmer, it’s very important that I locate Edgar Nixon as soon as possible. We girls thought possibly he left some clue to his whereabouts in his room.”

“I don’t mind you looking around one bit,” the woman said. “As a matter of fact, I’m very glad you came back. Several registered letters came in for Mr. Nixon right after you left. Out of force of habit I signed for them. After the mail carrier left, I realize that I didn’t know where to send the letters. Then I suddenly remembered something. Did you tell me before that your name is Nancy Drew and that you come from River Heights?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you ever hear of a man named Ira Nixon who lives there?”

Nancy smiled. “He’s our mail carrier. As a matter of fact he’s a brother of Edgar.”

“I know that,” Mrs. Hemmer said. “Maybe you could help me out with these letters. Some time ago Mr. Nixon said to me, ‘In case of an emergency, get in touch with my brother Ira in River Heights.’ ”

The three girls were watching Mrs. Hemmer intently. What would she reveal next?

The woman went on, “If you could just prove to me that you’re Nancy Drew from River Heights I’d give you these letters to take to his brother.”

Nancy showed her driver’s license, but said, “Suppose I give you Ira Nixon’s telephone number, you can dial it and tell him I’m here.”

The woman asked Nancy to make the call and she would talk with Ira Nixon. After a short delay Ira Nixon came on the line. Nancy identified herself, told where she was, and introduced Mrs. Hemmer.

“You take it now,” she said, handing the woman the phone.

Mrs. Hemmer told him the story and he verified the fact that Nancy was really Nancy Drew from River Heights and that he had known her since she was a little girl.

“Your brother Edgar has moved away from here,” she said. “He told me that in an emergency I should get in touch with you. I think these letters should be turned over to you. Shall I give them to Nancy Drew?”

“By all means,” the girls heard him reply. “Nancy Drew is one of the most reliable persons I’ve ever met and she’s trying to help me solve a mystery. Mrs. Hemmer,” he asked suddenly, “you never had any reason to think my brother isn’t perfectly honest?”

“Oh no,” the woman answered. “He always paid his rent on time and came and went without any trouble to me. Of course he never told me much about himself, but then it’s just as well not to have too much talk between a guesthouse owner and her roomers.”

The bundle of letters proved to be too big for Nancy’s purse or even coat pocket. Since it had stopped snowing, she decided it would be all right for her to carry them in her hand as far as the car.

Before leaving, the three girls searched Edgar’s room but found no clues to where he had gone. Finally they said good-by to Mrs. Hemmer and hurried down Harrison Street. When they reached the street on which the convertible was parked, Bess suggested it would be easier to walk down the hill in the middle of the street rather than on the sidewalk.

They had hardly started when a boy on a sled whizzed around the comer. The next second he skidded into Nancy.

The impact knocked her sprawling into the snow. The bundle of letters flew from her hand and scattered in every direction.

BESS and George rushed to Nancy’s aid. They helped her up and asked solicitously if she were hurt.

Nancy smiled ruefully. “Mostly my feelings,” she said with a wry smile. “My leg does hurt a little, though. I’d like to sit down.”

The girls assisted her to the porch of a house where the steps had been cleared of snow. Nancy sat down and rubbed the bruise on her leg.

Bess and George looked at each other. Nancy was very white and they kept asking her over and over again how she really felt and should they take her to a doctor.

“Oh no!” she replied. “I’ll be all right in a minute. You girls had better go pick up those letters. They’re getting soaked in the snow.”

As the cousins started for the street, several children on sleds came speeding down the hill.

They ran over the letters, burying them deeper and mutilating them. Bess and George hurried to pick them up.

The girls returned to the porch and Nancy stared at the letters in dismay. Some of them were open, others were torn and two had the contents sticking out.

“Oh look!” George exclaimed. “This letter has money in it. Wow! Twenty-five dollars!”

She handed the envelope to Nancy, who immediately looked for a return address. There was none. “Maybe there’s one on the letter inside,” she suggested.

“I’m going to look and see,” Bess declared, and began to read the already-opened letter. In a moment a broad grin spread across her face. “Listen to this:

Now Bess’s amusement turned to a serious mood. “We might be all wrong about Nancy Smith Drew,” she said. “Maybe Edgar is going to marry this person Mildred.”

“Is there an address on the letter?” Nancy asked.

“No.”

George remarked, “What puzzles me is why twenty-five dollars is in the letter. Pretty soft, if Edgar can get twenty-five dollars out of his future bride!”

“Where was the letter mailed?” Nancy asked.

“Dorset.”

Bess looked at Nancy. “You think maybe Edgar went to Dorset to marry Mildred?”

Nancy smiled. “Perhaps. Are there any more open letters with money in them?”

George looked through the dirty, rumpled mail. “Yes, here’s another. And there’s twenty-five dollars in it!”

Nancy asked her to read the letter, saying, “I’m beginning to be suspicious of something. I’ll tell you in a minute.”

There was no return address on either the letter or the envelope.

“What is your suspicion, Nancy?” Bess asked. “That Edgar Nixon is a bigamist—or even a trigamist?”

“More likely,” George put in, “he promises, for sums of money, to marry a whole bunch of women, and when things get too hot, he just skips out. This time, with Nancy learning too much about him, he had to leave before he had a chance to pick up the last bunch of letters. I’ll bet there’s twenty-five dollars in every one of these!”

“Shall we find out?” Bess asked eagerly.

Nancy shook her head. “To read an open or half-open letter is one thing. But to open the whole thing and snoop inside is illegal.”

“Nancy, you haven’t told us your theory yet,” George reminded her.

The girl detective laughed. She said teasingly, “I haven’t had a chance! I suspect that Edgar Nixon has been running a Lonely Hearts Club and gets money for promising to find a husband, or a wife, for the person who is foolish enough to put his or her trust in Edgar.”

George snorted. “Do you think the silly people believe they are going to get a mate for twenty-five dollars?”

“Oh no,” Nancy replied. “I would judge that the whole thing is done on an installment plan. These two letters which we have read are probably the last installment.”

“So that’s why Edgar had to skip out!” Bess suggested, and Nancy nodded.

“The scheme is positively revolting!” George exclaimed.

“And more than that,” Bess said, “it’s heart-breaking. A Lonely Hearts Club turned into a Hopeless Hearts Club.”

George had several uncomplimentary things to say about Edgar Nixon. Then suddenly she paused in the middle of a sentence. Her eyes flashed. “Do you suppose Nancy Smith Drew is one of Edgar’s victims?”

Bess said, “If she is, and he didn’t intend to marry her, why did Edgar let her come here?”

Nancy looked thoughtful. “I still think he intends to marry her. He knows about the inheritance, but she doesn’t, and he isn’t going to let her find out until after they’re married. Then, through some clever scheme, he plans to get the money away from her.”

“We mustn’t let him do that!” Bess cried.

George looked hard at her cousin. “And just how can we stop him? We don’t know where he is. Miss Drew came here and went away with him and—”

“And what else?” Bess asked her, a bit miffed by George’s gruffness.

Her cousin did not answer, but said, “Nancy, what do you intend to do with these letters? Are you still going to take them to Ira Nixon?”

Nancy shook her head. “I don’t think that would be wise. In the first place, the poor old man would probably collapse again. I’d hate to be responsible for that. If his brother is a swindler, I feel that the authorities should inform Ira, not me.”

The other girls agreed.

“I think we should go at once to the postmaster here and explain everything.”

“Will you tell him your suspicions about the Lonely Hearts Club?” Bess questioned.

“I think I will,” Nancy answered. “Even if I’m wrong, it won’t hurt for the post office to make an investigation. Men don’t just disappear without leaving any forwarding address unless they have something to hide.”

Nancy declared that she felt much better now. She got up and trudged down the hill with the girls to her car. She inquired from some children where the post office was and drove directly there. Unfortunately the building was closed.

“Now what?” George asked. “Don’t tell me we have to stay in this town all night!”

Bess grinned. “I’m sure Mrs. Hemmer would be glad to accommodate us in Edgar’s vacated room.”

The other girls laughed, then Nancy replied, “Since the letters were entrusted to my care, I’ll take them home and tomorrow morning take them to the River Heights post office.”

It was late by the time the girls reached River Heights. Nancy took her friends home, then started for her own house. She was eager to tell her father and Hannah Gruen the latest developments in the mystery.

Nancy was mulling over the case as she turned into the Drews’ driveway. One thing was a complete puzzle—the part about the American detective agency getting in touch with Malmsbury and Bates-Jones in London.

She put the car away and walked slowly toward the kitchen door. Just before she reached it, a startling idea came to her. Could Edgar Nixon, to throw suspicion from himself, have gone to a shady detective agency and said he knew where the missing Nancy Smith Drew was? He could have asked them to contact Malmsbury and Bates-Jones. Then his own unsavory schemes would never be suspected.

MR. DREW was waiting for Nancy in the kitchen and she thought she detected relief in his expression.

“Dad, were you worried about me?”

“I certainly was. The storm didn’t hit us very much, but I heard on the radio it was heavy over in Ridgefield.”

“It was, and this accounts for a few adventures I had,” she said.

Hannah Gruen, vigorously whipping potatoes in a pot, turned with questioning eyes. “Were you in an accident with the car? Did you get hurt?”

“Only a little accident, but not with the car. I have a few bruises on one leg where a boy on a sled ran into me. Don’t worry,” she added, as the housekeeper stopped her dinner preparations and came over to examine the injury.

“If it hadn’t been for the sled, the letters wouldn’t have opened and we wouldn’t have found the money in them nor known that Edgar Nixon is probably running a Lonely Hearts Club—”

Mr. Drew held up his hand to interrupt. “For Pete’s sake, Nancy,” he said, “please take off your heavy clothes and we’ll sit down at the table. Then you can tell your story from beginning to end. It sounds interesting.”

Mrs. Gruen had prepared a delicious roast beef dinner, which they all enjoyed. During the meal, Nancy told about her adventures. The others were amazed and agreed that no doubt her conclusions about Edgar Nixon were correct.