"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!"

CHAPTER IX.

Being Shadowed

As Nancy listened eagerly, Ned told her how he had located the writer of the warning note. "I studied your tracing of the writing. First, like you, I was sure a woman had written the words. You may remember Professor Webster at Emerson. Along with teaching archaeology, he's a handwriting expert. He and I have had many discussions about how the formation of letters is an indication of one's character."

"You mean," said Nancy, "a bold, vertical handwriting usually belongs to a literary person and jerky, slanted-to-the-right letters are a sign of nervousness?"

"Exactly. After studying the note you received, I figured it had been written by a somewhat shy, motherly person, probably elderly. From the type of paper used, I deduced she lived in a middle-income area of town and might shop locally. So I hounded the markets and kept my eyes open."

"And you found her that way?" Nancy asked.

Ned chuckled. "Sure did." He had taken a young cousin of his along to the various stores. "We stayed near the check-out counter," Ned went on. "Whenever an elderly woman came up to the cashier, we'd start talking about bombs and watch her reaction. Finally, in one supermarket, we saw a woman tremble violently, and asked her point-blank about the note. She admitted putting it in your mailbox."

"You're simply a genius!" Nancy exclaimed. "Go on!"

"This woman, Mrs. Morrison, runs a small rooming house. There are several within the block and many strangers come and go. But one day Mrs. Morrison was just about to close a window which opens onto an alleyway, when she heard two men talking below. One said he had had orders from Mr. Drew to use a bomb on the girl detective and her father."

"What else did she hear?" Nancy asked excitedly.

"That was about all, except the words 'He's a lawyer.' Mrs. Morrison looked out, but by this time the men had gone. She couldn't make up her mind whether they were serious or not. She was tempted to call the police, but decided against it."

"What did Mrs. Morrison do?"

"She casually inquired of the cashier in the supermarket if she knew of any girl detectives in town. When she heard there was one by the name of Nancy Drew, whose father was a lawyer, Mrs. Morrison became more puzzled than ever, and wondered if some family feud was being carried on between Drew and Drew.

"Finally," Ned went on, "Mrs. Morrison decided to write the warning note anonymously. She put it in your mailbox, rang the bell, and hurried away."

Nancy again praised Ned for his fine sleuthing. Then she told him about her own adventures in Scotland and of the man named Dewar.

"I'm sure now that what Mrs. Morrison overheard was the name Dewar," Nancy added.

Bess and George, meanwhile, having caught s.n.a.t.c.hes of Ned's big news, could hardly wait for Nancy to finish the conversation. At last she put down the phone and told them.