The Secret of the Old Clock

by
Carolyn Keene

Chapter I
The Lost Will

“It would be a shame if all that money went to the Tophams! They will fly higher than ever!”

Nancy Drew, a pretty girl of sixteen, leaned over the library table and addressed her father who sat reading a newspaper by the study lamp.

“I beg your pardon, Nancy. What were you saying about the Tophams?”

Carson Drew, a noted criminal and mystery-case lawyer, known far and wide for his work as a former district attorney, looked up from his evening paper and smiled indulgently upon his only daughter. Now, as he gave her his respectful attention, he was not particularly concerned with the Richard Topham family but rather with the rich glow of the lamp upon Nancy’s curly golden bob. Not at all the sort of head which one expected to indulge in serious thoughts, he told himself.

Mischievously, Nancy reached over and tweaked his ear.

“You weren’t paying a bit of attention,” she accused him sternly. “I was saying I think it’s mean if those snobbish Tophams fall heir to all of Josiah Crowley’s fortune. Can’t something be done about it?”

Removing his horn-rimmed spectacles and carefully folding the paper, Carson Drew regarded his daughter meditatively.

“I’m afraid not, Nancy. A will is a will, you know.”

“But it does seem unfair that all the money should go to them. Especially when they never treated Josiah Crowley like a human being!”

“The Tophams were never noted for their charitable dispositions,” Carson Drew observed, with a smile. “However, they did give Josiah a home.”

“Yes, and everyone knows why! They wanted to work him into leaving all his money to them. And it seems that their scheme worked, too! They treated him like a prince until he made his will in their favor and then they acted as though he were dirt under their feet. Folks said he died just to be rid of their everlasting nagging.”

“The Tophams aren’t very well liked in our little city, are they?” Mr. Drew commented dryly.

“Who could like them, father? Richard Topham is an old skinflint who made his money by gambling on the stock exchange. And Cora, his wife, is nothing but a vapid social climber. The two girls, Isabel and Ada, are even worse. I went to school with them, and I never saw such stuck-up creatures in all my life. If they fall heir to any more money, this town won’t be big enough to hold them!”

In her estimate of the Topham family, Nancy Drew did not exaggerate. Nearly everyone in River Heights shared the opinion that the Tophams were snobbish and arrogant, and the treatment they accorded old Josiah Crowley had aroused a great deal of unfavorable comment.

Nancy had never known Josiah well, but had often seen him on the street and secretly had regarded him as a rather nice but extremely queer sort of individual. His wife had died during the influenza epidemic following the World War, and since that time Crowley had made his home with various relatives. Although well-to-do, he preferred to “visit around.”

At first, the Tophams had evidenced no interest in the old man and he had been forced to live with kindly relatives who were scarcely able to have him with them. Crowley appreciated the sacrifice and openly declared that he intended to make his will in their favor.

Then, three years before his death, the Topham family experienced a sudden change of heart. They begged Josiah Crowley to make his home with them, and at last he consented. Presently, rumor had it that the Tophams had induced him to make his will in their favor.

But as time went on and Mr. Crowley, though failing in health, maintained as firm a grip on life as ever, the Tophams treated him unkindly. Although he continued to live with them, it was whispered about that frequently he slipped away to visit his old friends and that he intended to change his will again, cutting the Tophams out entirely.

Then one day Josiah Crowley took to his bed and did not get up. Just before his death he attempted to communicate something to the doctor who attended him, but his words were unintelligible. After the funeral, only one will came to light and, to the surprise of everyone, it gave the entire fortune to the Tophams.

“Father, what do you suppose it was that Mr. Crowley tried to tell the doctor just before he died?” Nancy demanded, after a moment of thought. “Do you imagine he was trying to disclose something about his will?”

“Very likely, Nancy. Probably he intended to leave his money to more deserving relatives. But fate cheated him of the opportunity.”

“But isn’t it possible that he did make such a will and that he was trying to tell what he had done with it?”

“Yes, that’s a possibility of course. Josiah Crowley was rather queer in many ways.”

“Perhaps he hid the will somewhere,” Nancy suggested thoughtfully.

“If he did, I’m afraid it will never come to light. The Tophams will see to that.”

“What do you mean, father?”

“The estate is a considerable one, I understand, Nancy, and the Tophams don’t intend that anyone shall get a cent of it. It’s my private opinion that they will take care that a second will is never found.”

“Do you mean that if they discovered the will they would destroy it?”

“Well, I’m not making any accusations, Nancy. But I do know that Richard Topham is shrewd, and he isn’t noted for his honesty.”

“Can’t the present will be broken?”

“I doubt it. While I haven’t gone into the case, I am of the opinion that the Tophams have a legal right to the fortune. It would cost considerable to contest the will, and so far as I know the other relatives are in poverty. They have filed a claim, declaring that a later will was made in their favor, but I doubt that the matter will ever go further.”

“But the Tophams don’t deserve the fortune, father. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“No, it isn’t fair. But it is legal, and I’m afraid nothing can be done about it. There were two girls who live somewhere on the River Road that were great pets of Crowley’s when they were children. It seems to me that they should have had something. And there are a number of relatives who really deserve a portion of the fortune.”

Nancy nodded thoughtfully and relapsed into silence while she digested the facts of the case. From her father she had acquired the habit of thinking things through to their logical conclusion. Frequently, Carson Drew had assured her that she went at a thing “like a detective.” Certainly she had a naturally clever mind and took more than an ordinary interest in strange or baffling cases.

Carson Drew, a widower, showered a great deal of affection upon his daughter; it was his secret boast that he had taught her to think for herself and to think logically. Since he knew that Nancy could be trusted with confidential information, he frequently discussed his interesting cases with her.

A number of times Nancy had been present at interviews which her father had had with noted detectives who desired his aid in solving perplexing mysteries, and those occasions stood out as red letter days for her.

There was something about a mystery which aroused Nancy’s interest, and she was never content until it was solved. More than once her father had found her suggestions, or “intuitions” as he called them, extremely helpful.

For a reason which she could not understand, the Crowley case had attracted Nancy’s attention, although it had not fallen into her father’s hands. She had a certain feeling that a mystery lurked behind it.

“Father, do you believe Josiah Crowley ever made a second will?” Nancy demanded suddenly.

“You’re a regular lawyer, the way you cross-examine me,” Carson Drew protested, but with evident enjoyment. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know whether he ever made a second will or not. All I do know is that—but perhaps I shouldn’t mention it since my information is not very definite.”

“Go on!” Nancy commanded impatiently. “You’re trying to tease me!”

“Well, I do remember that one day nearly a year ago I was standing in the First National Bank when Crowley came in with Henry Rolsted.”

“Not the attorney who specializes in wills and legal documents?”

“Yes. Well, as I was saying, they came into the bank together. I had no intention of listening to their conversation, but I couldn’t help but hear that they were discussing a will. Crowley made an appointment to call at Rolsted’s office the following day.”

“That looks as though Mr. Crowley had made up his mind to write a new will, doesn’t it?”

“That was the thought which passed through my mind at the time.”

“You say you overheard the conversation nearly a year ago,” Nancy mused. “That was nearly two years after Mr. Crowley had made the will in favor of the Tophams, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s likely Crowley had made up his mind to change the will. I suspect he intended to cut the Tophams out, but whether or not he did, I have no way of knowing.”

“Mr. Rolsted is an old friend of yours, isn’t he?”

“He is. An old friend and an old college classmate.”

“Then why don’t you ask him if he ever drew up a will for Mr. Crowley?”

“That’s a rather delicate question to ask, young lady. He may tell me it’s none of my business.”

“You know he won’t. You’re such a noted attorney that other lawyers feel flattered when you take an interest in their cases. Will you do it? Please!”

“I can’t promise to blunder into his office and demand the information. Why this sudden interest in the case, Nancy?”