The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes (10 page)

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!

 

 

 

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 your 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 highceilinged 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 half-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!”