CHAPTER VIII. A Confession

CHAPTER VIII

A Confession

By this time the guide, too, had become worried. As Bess, George, and Mr. Drew reached the foot of the dungeon steps, he called down, “Wait! I’ll come along. I must tell you something. Another sightseer went into the dungeon right after you did. He was mumbling something that sounded like ‘I’ll get her!’ Maybe—maybe he meant Miss Drew, and has put her in the suffocation chamber!”

“What!” the three exclaimed in horror. The guide explained there was a small recess in the wall of the first chamber they had entered, where prisoners of old had been suffocated in seven minutes by a huge stone being placed across the opening. The stone was still there on the floor.

He and the visitors raced pell-mell into the dungeon and went straight to the suffocation recess. The great stone lay on the ground. Nancy was not inside!

Mr. Drew heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness!” he said. “Somehow Nancy must have gone out without any of us noticing.”

As the group hurried back up the steps, the guide admitted he had been gone for a few minutes from the place at which he had posted himself to await their return. To their intense relief, they saw Nancy approaching them from the main entrance of the castle. The guide went off.

“Nancy, you scared us silly!” cried Bess. “Where have you been?”

The young sleuth quickly explained. “When you all were at the far end of the dungeon, I went back partway to look at something. Just then I saw a man come down the steps and walk toward me. He was that autograph snatcher in River Heights—the man named Pete!”

“Are you sure?” George asked unbelievingly.

“I’m positive!” Nancy answered. “As soon as he saw me, he turned and ran like mad. I tore after him but couldn’t catch him. Right outside the entrance gate he jumped into a car that looked like the one that nearly hit us on the way to Loch Lomond. It sped off, but I’m sure the driver was the person we know as Mr. Dewar.”

“So those two are in league!” said George. “That proves they’re up to no good, and somehow you Drews are involved.”

All this time, Bess had been staring wide-eyed at Nancy. Finally she told of the mumbling the guide had heard, and added gloomily, “I’ll bet that man Pete would’ve pushed you into that seven-minute suffocation chamber when you weren’t looking!”

George laughed scornfully. “Ridiculous! With all of us around! Nancy, why do you think he dared come into the dungeon and risk being seen?”

“My hunch is, George, that he was sent to eavesdrop on our conversation and any plans we may have. He was taken by surprise when he saw me looking directly at him.”

Mr. Drew remarked that their enemies must be watching every move. “I guess your suspicions about Mr. Dewar are confirmed,” the lawyer said to Nancy. “He must have overheard you girls talking in your hotel room, so he checked out ahead of us and followed Donald’s car. From now on I guess you three had better talk in whispers!”

Mr. Drew asked Nancy if she had caught the license number of the fleeing car.

“Yes, I did,” she said. “A guard at the castle entrance let me telephone the police. They checked, and told me it was a rented car and that after what had happened the men probably would abandon it very soon.”

George was angry. “It seems to me that every time we get near a solution—poof! It goes up in smoke!”

“Why didn’t the guards stop Pete at the entrance gate?” Bess asked Nancy.

Nancy shrugged her shoulders. “I guess it all happened too fast.”

The group walked to Donald’s car and climbed in. They said nothing to him about the recent episode, and soon they were relaxing and enjoying his delightful talk. Presently he stopped in a pleasant spot by a shaded brook, called a burn.

“What a perfect picnic place!” Bess said.

Later, while they were eating, Donald asked, “Do ye know about the old town in Scotland where everybody had the same last name?”

“You’re kidding!” said Bess.

“Nae, and that I am not,” Donald replied. “The name was MacKenzie, but the people there all called one another by nicknames. Some of them were pretty daft. Once a fellow came down from the church steeple on ropes, so they called him ‘The Flyer.’ The chemist was nicknamed ‘Shake the Bottle’ and the barber—well, he got the name ‘Soapy’!”

Everyone laughed, and George remarked facetiously, “I suppose the town carpenter was called ‘Nails.’ “

“We call him a joiner,” said Donald. He chuckled. “If he dinna’ join things right and hit his thumb, we’d call him stupid!”

The picnic ended and the debris was put back into the lunch box to be disposed of later. The sightseers resumed their journey. As they went through the town of Falkirk somewhat later, Donald turned east toward the Firth of Forth.

George said, “In our country, I suppose we would call this a bay,” and Mr. Drew nodded.

When they reached Bo’ness, Donald drew up before a large brown stone plaque wedged into the hillside. On it was a long inscription in Latin.

“This was one of the Roman walls,” said the Scotsman. “It originally ran for thirty miles from here to the River Clyde. The wall was twelve feet high, and a deep trench was built on the enemy’s side to keep soldiers from climbing over the wall.”

Nancy was endeavoring to make out the somewhat faint letters in the inscription, and managed to learn that the wall had been built during the reign of the Roman Emperor, Antoninus Pius.

“Oh, dear!” Bess gave a sigh. “It seems to me that all day long I’ve been learning about wars, bloodshed, and horrible punishments.”

Donald looked at her understandingly. “Perhaps we should go. I promise not to tell another story about cruelty today.”

Bess smiled. “Thanks!”

When they were seated in the car once more and heading toward Edinburgh, Donald asked, “Did ye ever hear about the naval commander who was ordered to anchor his ship at the Forth Bridge?”

The others shook their heads and Donald went on, “Actually, the Forth Bridge runs from outside of Edinburgh across the Firth. Well, this captain kept goin’ and goin’ and finally radioed back: ‘Where is the fourth bridge? I can only find one!’“

“Good story!” said Nancy as everyone chuckled.

In a few minutes Donald said, “Schoolboys in Scotland are given a riddle. ‘How many inches in the Forth?’

“They guess varying depths of water but are finally told, ‘There are only seven.’ Of course they all say no big ships could travel in seven inches of water. Then the person who is teasing them will say, ‘But an inch, laddie, is an island!’ “

“Oooh!” cried Bess. “Donald, how could you?”

Their driver grinned, then stopped talking, since traffic was becoming heavy. By the time they reached Edinburgh the evening rush hour was at its height. The streets were crowded with pedestrians and vehicles.

The American visitors admired the fine buildings and the extremely clean streets. “Isn’t this a lovely city!” Nancy murmured.

Donald drove up the broad main avenue, with its attractive shops on one side and lovely park on the other. On a hill beyond stood the imposing castle. Presently the group reached the hotel where they were to stay. Like the one in Glasgow, it was next to the huge railroad station.

The four travelers were genuinely sorry to say good-by to Donald. “Thank you for a wonderful trip,” said Nancy. The others expressed their appreciation also.

“ ‘Twas a pleasure driving ye.” Donald grinned. “I wish ye all luck and happiness.”

With that, he waved and drove off. Mr. Drew and the girls entered the hotel. In a lounge off the lobby, tea was being served. “Just what I need after that long ride,” Bess declared, eyeing the luscious-looking pastries contained in a multiple-tiered cart. She walked into the room.

The other girls followed, while Mr. Drew registered for them all and sent the baggage to their rooms. They spent the next half hour eating the various dainty cakes and sipping the delicious tea.

When they had finished, George said, “Mr. Drew, there’ll be only three of us at dinner tonight.” When he inquired why, the girl’s eyes twinkled and she answered, “Bess has had hers!”

“That’s what you think!” her cousin retorted. “Two hours from now I’ll be ready for seven courses!”

Nancy giggled. “They may serve only four!”

A little later they all went upstairs to the girls’ room. As Nancy unlocked the door, the telephone was ringing. When she answered, the operator said, “Miss Drew? ... I have an overseas call for you. One moment, please.”

In a few seconds a young man’s voice came over the wire and Nancy almost shrieked, “Ned!”

Bess and George grinned and nodded their heads knowingly. After an exchange of excited greetings, Ned said to Nancy, “Detective Nickerson is calling to report to Detective Drew. I have some news for you. I got hold of the Graphic reporter who wrote the story that went with your picture. He finally broke down and said he had learned of your plans from a man named Pete. I did some sleuthing and found out that Pete’s full name is Paul Petrie!”

“Oh, marvelous!” exclaimed Nancy. “Who is this Mr. Petrie?”

“He lives in town. Petrie has never been in trouble with the police, but I learned that he isn’t very well regarded. Had a few near brushes with the law when some of his checks bounced.”

“Ned, that’s clever detecting!” Nancy exclaimed.

“Wait until you hear what else I have to tell you. It’s really big news! Nancy, I tracked down the person who wrote that warning note about the bomb!”

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