The Secret of the Old Clock - Carolyn Keene [21]
“Do you know who witnessed the will?” Nancy broke in.
“No. He didn’t say.”
“Haven’t you any idea what became of the will?” Nancy asked hopefully.
“Well, I remember Josiah did say something about putting it where nobody could get it unless they had legal authority. But I really don’t know what became of it.”
“Are you certain that was all Mr. Crowley said?” Nancy inquired gently. She recalled the Turners saying that Abby had become forgetful.
The elderly woman shook her head and sighed. “Many a night I’ve lain awake trying to think what else he did say about where he would put the will. I just can’t recollect.”
“Try to think!” Nancy begged.
“I can’t remember,” Abby Rowen murmured hopelessly. “I’ve tried and tried.” She leaned against the cushions and closed her eyes, as though the effort had exhausted her.
At that very moment the clock on the mantel chimed twelve. Abby’s eyes fluttered open and an odd expression passed over her face.
For an instant she stared straight before her, then slowly turned her head and fastened her eyes on the clock.
CHAPTER IX
Helpful Disclosures
NANCY watched Abby Rowen intently as the mantel clock finished striking. The elderly woman’s lips had begun to move.
“The clock!” she whispered. “That was it! The clock!”
Nancy gripped the arms of her chair in excitement. “Josiah Crowley hid the will in a clock?” she prompted.
“No—no, it wasn’t that,” Abby murmured, sighing again. “I know Josiah said something about a clock, but whatever it was has slipped my mind.”
Silence descended over the room. Nancy was wondering what connection the timepiece could have with the missing will. Mrs. Rowen was staring at the clock, evidently still trying to probe her memory.
Suddenly she gave a low cry. “There! It came to me just like that!”
“What, Mrs. Rowen?” Nancy urged quietly, lest she startle the old woman into forgetfulness.
“A notebook!” Abby exclaimed triumphantly.
Nancy’s heart gave a leap, but she forced herself to say calmly, “Please tell me more about this notebook.”
“Well, one day not long before he passed away, Josiah said to me, ‘Abby, after I’m dead, if my last will isn’t found, you can learn about it in this little book of mine.’ ”
“Do you know what became of the notebook, Mrs. Rowen?”
“Oh dearie me! There goes my memory again. No, I don’t.”
Although baffled, Nancy felt a growing conviction that the whereabouts of the Crowley will was definitely tied up with a clock of some kind. But, she pondered, why did the striking of the mantel clock remind Abby Rowen of the notebook?
Impulsively Nancy got up and went over to the mantel. She looked inside the glass front and in the back. There were no papers inside.
Returning to her chair, Nancy asked the elderly woman, “What became of the furnishings of the Crowley home when he gave it up?”
“The Tophams got ’most everything.”
“There must have been a family clock,” Nancy mused, half to herself.
“A family clock?” Abby repeated. “Oh, yes, there was a clock.”
“Can you describe it?”
“It was just an ordinary mantel type, something like mine—tall, with a square face,” the woman told Nancy. “Only Josiah’s was fancier. Had some kind of a moon on top.”
“What became of the clock?” Nancy questioned.
“I suppose the Tophams got it, too.”
At last Nancy, sure she had done all she could for Abby, and that she had learned as much as possible for the present, rose to depart. After saying good-by, she stopped at a neighboring house and asked the occupants to look in occasionally on the ailing woman.
“I think maybe one of the county’s visiting nurses should see Mrs. Rowen,” she suggested.
“I’ll phone the agency,” the neighbor offered. “Meanwhile, I’ll go over myself. I’m so sorry I didn’t know about Mrs. Rowen.”
As Nancy drove toward River Heights, she jubilantly reviewed the new facts in the case. “Now, if I can only locate Mr. Crowley’s notebook—or clock—or both!”
Nancy’s brow knit in concentration. How would she go about tracking down the old timepiece?