Nancy did not answer Bess. She continued to gaze out the window. Bess said she must hurry home, for the day was at a close. The children would be rampaging, and Ned would be home with his football, ready to devour a horse or two. Bess hugged Nancy good-bye and whispered a message of cheer.
Nancy Searches the Files
The next day Nancy searched her father's files and found nothing significant. Frustrated, she began to look for hidden compartments in her father's bedroom. She was expert at such quests, having explored many mansions for secret sliding panels and hidey holes. Her favorites were in The Sign of the Twisted Candles. Nancy recalled longingly the ecstatic feeling of tugging on the little knob which opened the hidden recess in one old attic she had searched. It surprised her that she might be finding such secrets in her own home.
The task occupied the day, broken by a short interval when she shared an attractive luncheon of crab bisque, fresh peas, and lemon mousse with Hannah Gruen. Hannah was eighty, but she still cooked and ran the vacuum.
"Now, Nancy," she said. "Promise me you won't go running off into danger again." Nancy had not told her the particulars, but Hannah never missed anything.
"I won't," promised Nancy. "I almost wish I could. Nothing exciting seems to happen anymore."
Looking through the mail, Nancy found a copy of her father's death certificate. She decided to store it with important papers in an old album in her father's safe. She opened the album, a worn red plush book with embroidered gold letters. The album reminded her of a coffin. Inside, she found several listings of births and marriages and deaths. She pored over them eagerly. She noticed the births and marriages of long-gone aunts and uncles, marveling that their deaths occurred on the next page. She could find no record of her mother's death. As she searched for clues in the antique album, the telephone rang. Nancy found herself talking to Draco S. Wren.
An Urgent Call
It was nine in the morning when Nancy rang up George Fayne. The telephone rang several times, with a frantic sound. Finally George answered.
"George!" Nancy cried exuberantly. "Oh, George. I thought you had already packed your gym bag for the day and left your room."
"I was bounding down the stairs when I heard the telephone."
"Listen, George, I think I am deliriously happy!" "Hypers, Nancy, this is great news. Have you solved the mystery?"
"Did Bess tell you about that?"
"Bess can't keep a secret-or whistle," said George. "Are we going to Alaska?"
"No. George. Listen-I'm in love."
" Nancy, you must be dreaming. Who's the dream fellow?"
"Draco S. Wren."
"Your mystery man?"
"Exactly."
"Bess is suspicious of him."
"I can take care of myself," Nancy said blithely. "I've managed to get out of dangerous scrapes before. But there's no danger."
"How did you meet him?"
"He came over yesterday to talk about something in relation to a case of Dad's, and I fell in love with him. It was quite natural and inevitable. He's perfectly handsome, as handsome as Dad, and his manner is somewhat like his-firm and taciturn but twinkling and warm beneath. He wears modest clothing and smiles enchantingly. He loves mysteries. He follows all my cases with devotion."
"That's wonderful, Nancy. What does he look like?"
"Draco S. Wren is of medium height with brown hair. He walks with short, hurried steps."
"You described a pickpocket to the police once in exactly those terms," George said.
"And my vivid description enabled the police to pick up the pickpocket instantly," Nancy pointed out. "But Draco S. Wren has excellent manners and a winning smile-hardly the ways of a pickpocket."
"Great."
"We stayed in the parlor till nearly eleven," Nancy confessed. "Hannah brought steaming cocoa and homemade molasses cookies, which we ate by the fire. It was thrilling."
"Did you solve the mystery?"
"I've learned some things. He does live in Alaska, and he apparently has been getting money from Dad. He wouldn't tell me why, but he says he has no intention of soliciting funds from me."
"Still sounds mysterious."
"He said he would tell me more today. This afternoon we're going for a spin. Isn't that exciting?"
"It's nice that you have no suspicions of him."
"Oh, no. You know that with my sharp eyes and powers of observation, I am an instant judge of character." Suddenly Nancy remembered something. "Oh, George, I think I've seen this handsome man before! He was at Father's funeral!"
"You don't say!" George gave a low whistle.
"I believe I glimpsed him once behind the lilies. He was wearing a black leather jacket, broad-brimmed hat, and a purple bandana-yes, it was he, indeed. I remember his glistening brown hair. Funny he didn't mention he was there. Anyway, he told me that he and Dad had had some private business together and that he wanted to explain it to me, but that he would like to get to know me better so that I would trust him. He has such trusting eyes-not dark, piercing eyes such as criminals have. He was very much interested in my work. Why, I regaled him with Nancy Drew stories until half past ten!" "Did you ask about the ivory igloo?" "No. Not yet. I'm sure if he sent it, it wasn't with ill intentions. I did ask him if he knew of any enemies my father might have had, and he knew of none."
"Well, Nancy, as long as he isn't a vampire, I'll be interested to meet your new friend, but he sounds sneaky. And I'm disappointed we're not going to Alaska."
"He is mysterious, I admit," Nancy said. "I'm eager to learn more, but I was my usual shrewd self, preferring to observe rather than hurry. I must confess, however, that I feel as thrilled as I usually do with the first five clues of a new mystery!"
Nancy replaced the telephone receiver and lapsed back into her reverie. George had always been skeptical of love. Nancy, too, had wasted little thought on romance. All Ned had cared about was dancing and-Nancy flushed-stealing a kiss in the moonlight. Bess was welcome to him. Ned hadn't the slightest understanding of her calling.
Now as Hannah and Nancy had breakfast together, Hannah observed Nancy 's preoccupation. "You've hardly touched your food, dear," she admonished as Nancy picked at her Omaha omelette with blueberry muffins and homemade strawberry jam and fresh creamery butter. "You aren't going to get carried away by that mystery man, are you? If your dear father were alive-"
"Oh, Hannah, lovely Hannah, I'm not in danger. I must confess that I am in love."
As Nancy dwelt more on the subject, the more rapturous she became. She explained it all to Hannah, who understood and with tears in her eyes said she hoped her foster daughter would find the happiness she deserved since losing her dear parents.
"Hannah," said Nancy soberly. "You have told me about my mother when she was alive. Can you tell me more about her death?"
Hannah seemed startled but she soon composed herself. "I think I've told you all I remember-about the night it happened, about the funeral. You were just a little thing in a romper suit."
"I remember only that she gave me my first magnifying glass. I remember looking at her face through my magnifying glass. Her smile was hideous and large, and it made me laugh."
"Yes. She gave you that just before she died. I remember her saying 'Take this, Nancy, and use it to pursue crooks to justice! Let no footprint escape!' What a glorious deathbed speech!"
"Hannah!" Nancy sobbed. "I'm an orphan!"
"Don't feel bad, Nancy," said Hannah. "I'm an orphan too."
"But you're eighty."
"I think so, Nancy, but there's always a certain emptiness you feel. I've felt it for a long time."
"Have you, Hannah?"
"Oh, for many years."
Revelation
Draco S. Wren arrived that afternoon, wearing his purple bandana and glistening hair. He was a striking figure, dressed like an adventurer out of the Old West. He took Nancy for a drive in a large touring car, a kind Nancy recognized from one of her old books. She sat beside him dreamily. For once she was not at the wheel, skillfully maneuvering her smart machine while notorious gangsters gunned along behind her. The touring car glided through the sleepy countryside. The scenery seemed old and beautiful, as if untouched by trucks or time. Nancy thought she recognized the old Turnbull mansion with the hidden staircase from long, long ago. She drifted along on a cloud, receding into her past. Draco S. Wren's amiable chatter reminded Nancy that she was deeply in love with this gentle-eyed stranger. She drew closer to the stranger, feeling as if a particularly puzzling mystery was about to be solved, with a stimulating climactic flourish.