belongings, she had backed the roadster from the garage and was waiting for him, at the curbing.
“I haven’t heard you mention the Crowley case lately,” Mr. Drew commented as they rode along together. “Have you forgotten about it?”
Nancy’s face clouded.
“No, I haven’t forgotten, but I must admit I have made no progress. I guess I’m not cut out for a detective!”
“Don’t feel discouraged, Nancy. The Crowley case would baffle a professional.”
“I haven’t given it up yet, father. I may stumble onto a clue one of these days.”
When they reached the law office, Nancy stopped the roadster and her father got out. He disappeared inside the building and, returning a few minutes later, placed a fat manilla envelope in Nancy’s hand.
“Give this to Judge Hartgrave. You know where to find him?”
“Yes, I’ll have no trouble in finding his office. I’ve frequently driven as far as Masonville.”
Selecting the shortest route to her destination, Nancy deftly shifted gears and was off. As she rode along the gravel road her eyes traveled to the fields on either side of the highway. Like a true daughter of the Middle West, Nancy Drew took pride in the fertility of her State and saw beauty in a crop of waving green corn as well as in the rolling hills and the expanse of prairie land.
More than once Nancy glanced anxiously at the sky. The sun shone down on the gravel road with dazzling intensity, but a large black cloud