The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes by Carolyn Keene

sorry about your car. My croft home is not far from here—just beyond the mountain of Ben Nevis—and I live alone. It would be a pleasure if you lassies would stay with me until tomorrow morning. I am sure the car will not be in working condition before then.”

    The girls returned the woman’s smile and thanked her. Bess added, “So far as I’m concerned, I’d love to come, but first we’ll have to ask our friend Nancy Drew—the poor girl out there.”
    The other automobiles from the ferry had begun to move. George posted herself at the pier exit and stopped each driver to ask if he knew the man who had pushed Nancy off the roadway, or had noted his license number. Neither had. They had been so horrified at the accident they had not noticed. One man did say, however, that the fellow had driven off at once.
    “How dumb of me not to have spotted him on the boat!” George chided herself.
    By this time Nancy had been helped ashore. “I’m all right,” she assured her friends. Upon learning of Mrs. Drummond’s invitation, Nancy said, “We’ll be happy to accept your hospitality.”
    The man who had assisted Nancy then brought the girls’ bags from the trunk. Fortunately the compartment was watertight, and the suitcases were only slightly damp. They were lifted up to the pier and several other men willingly carried them to shore.
    Mrs. Drummond had been looking at Nancy intently. She now turned to Fiona and said something in Gaelic. Fiona smiled and told Nancy that Mrs. Drummond had asked if Nancy was the American girl detective whose picture she had seen.
    Nancy laughed. “I’m surprised you recognized me in such a bedraggled condition!”
    As soon as the waterlogged convertible had been towed away, Mrs. Drummond led the girls to her own car nearby. The luggage was stowed, and the five climbed in.
    Mrs. Drummond’s croft proved to be that in name only. The original one-room building was now the living room of a house with many other rooms. All the quaintness of the original croft had been left—its large stone fireplace, with hanging crane and iron pot; the rustic wooden chairs; the wall bed, which was now an attractive built-in sofa; and even a baby’s cradle.
    “Oh, this is absolutely charming!” Nancy exclaimed.
    The girls were led to two bedrooms, each with a huge canopied bed and colorful hand-woven draperies and rugs. Nancy would room with Fiona.
    By the time all four girls had bathed and were dressed, Mrs. Drummond had a substantial supper ready. It started with cock-a-deckie soup of leeks and a boiling hen. Then came mutton stew, filled with potatoes and small white turnips. There was kale as a side dish, and for dessert a bowl of steamed bread pudding filled with currants and topped with custard sauce.
    “That was a marvelous meal!” Bess declared. “I’m stuffed!”
    “But you must have a treacle doddie!” Mrs. Drummond insisted, and brought out a jar of brown sticky candy balls. Bess and her friends could not resist, and found the sweets delicious.
    The girls helped Mrs. Drummond clear away the supper dishes. Then there was conversation by a cozy fire and finally the visitors said good night. Tucked under the covers at the foot of their beds each girl found an enormous hot-water bottle, which Fiona said was called a pig.
    “Mm! Feels wonderful!” Nancy thought as she cuddled, giggling, down among the covers.
    She slept soundly until midnight, then was awakened suddenly by the sound of bagpipes. She realized the music was some distance away, but Nancy could hear it well enough to recognize the first phrase of Scots, Wha Hae!
    “That’s funny—someone playing the pipes at this time of night—and not playing the tune very well.” Instantly her mind flew to Mr. Dewar and the bagpipe playing in his hotel room.
    “I’m going to find out what’s going on,” Nancy decided as the phrase was repeated.
    She dressed quickly, tiptoed from the room, and went outside. There was a full moon,