VISITING THE TOPHAMS
It was nearly three o'clock of the following afternoon when Nancy Drew
paused in front of the Topham residence on Highland Boulevard. She
surveyed the structure with distaste.
The house was a large, pretentious affair of nondescript type. It was
set back from the street and seemed to look down rather aloofly upon
the surrounding homes. Even a casual glance at the lawn revealed that
it had been "landscaped" with a vengeance. In an effort to "do it in
proper style," Mrs. Topham had crowded the yard with sundials, benches,
bird houses, and statues.
"Such lack of taste!" Nancy thought, as she walked up the path to the
house.
She lifted the knocker on the front door. Nancy Drew realized that the
interview was apt to be an unpleasant one, and she braced herself for
the ordeal.
"I must be diplomatic," she advised herself, "or I'll not learn a thing
about that clock. If they suspect what I am about, they may bounce me
out on my ear!"
At that moment a uniformed butler opened the door and condescendingly
waited for Nancy to state her mission.
"Tell Mrs. Topham that Miss Drew is calling," she directed. "I am
selling tickets for the charity dance. It's one of the most important
social functions of the year. I am sure Mrs. Topham will wish to
attend."
Nancy was forced to wait until the butler returned with permission
for her to enter. As she was finally ushered into the living room,
she could not help but smile at the elaborate formality, for in spite
of Mrs. Topham's lofty ambitions, the woman had never achieved the
commanding position in society that she strove for.
The room in which Nancy found herself was even more bizarre than she
had anticipated. Expensive oriental rugs clashed with window draperies
of a different hue. The walls were heavy with paintings which were
entirely out of place in such a small room, and period furniture had
been added indiscriminately.
But Nancy Drew was not interested in Mrs. Topham's lack of taste. As
soon as the butler had left her alone she hastily glanced about. Almost
at once her eye fastened upon a mantel clock which rested above the
fireplace.
"I wonder if that can be the Crowley clock?" Nancy thought.
She rather doubted it, for the clock was too modern in appearance. She
would have crossed the room to examine it, but a sound in the hall
caused her to hesitate. As she heard someone coming she sank down on an
uncomfortable ladder-back chair and assumed an expression of composure.
Mrs. Topham sailed grandly into the room and after surveying her for a
minute, took a seat opposite Nancy.
"Well?" she demanded coldly. "What is it?"
"I am selling tickets for the----"
"I don't want them!" Mrs. Topham broke in rudely. "I can't be handing
out my money to every peddler that comes along."
"Mrs. Topham, I am not a peddler," Nancy said cuttingly, as the color
mounted to her cheeks. With difficulty she kept her temper in check.
"Perhaps you didn't understand my name. I am Nancy Drew."
"Oh." A slight change came over Mrs. Topham's face, for she was fully
aware that Carson Drew and his daughter were cordially welcomed in
River Heights homes which merely tolerated the Tophams or, in a few
cases, barred them. "I didn't catch the name, Miss Drew. What is it you
are selling?"
"Tickets for the charity dance."
"Well, I hardly know what to say," Mrs. Topham hedged.
It was apparent that she was afraid to offend Nancy, and yet she was
unwilling to part with the money. Although the Tophams were well-to-do,
it was common knowledge that Mrs. Topham was decidedly stingy where
other persons were concerned.
"How much are the tickets?"
"Two dollars each."
"Why, that's positively exorbitant!" Mrs. Topham protested.
"But we are selling the tickets for charity," Nancy explained. "I
assure you the cause is an excellent one."
Before Mrs. Topham could reply, the front door opened and Isabel and
Ada entered the house. Unaware of the visitor, they paused in the hall
and carried on a disgruntled conversation. Evidently, they had been
making social calls and were angry because some woman had refused to
see them.
"Her maid said she wasn't at home, but I know she was," Nancy heard Ada
complain.
The two sisters entered the living room, and when they saw Nancy
stopped short and stared rudely at her. They did not speak a word of
greeting.
"Miss Drew is selling tickets to a dance," Mrs. Topham informed her
daughters.
"Don't buy them," Ada advised harshly. She had not forgotten the scene
in the department store and longed to avenge herself upon Nancy, whom
she considered responsible for her humiliation.
"But, Ada," Mrs. Topham protested feebly, "I thought it might help our
social standing to take a few tickets."
"Don't be silly, mother," Ada snapped. "You'll only waste your money.
We don't want to go, anyway."
"All right, I won't buy the tickets. Good afternoon, Miss Drew."
Reluctantly, Nancy arose. She was somewhat taken aback at the
unceremonious dismissal, for she had not accomplished the real purpose
of her visit.
As she turned, Nancy saw that Richard Topham blocked the door. He had
entered so quietly that his arrival had been unobserved.
"Just a minute, Miss Drew," he said. "How many tickets have you there?"
"Four," Nancy gasped in surprise.
"I'll take them all."
With a grand gesture, Richard Topham opened his pocketbook and
carelessly pulled out a twenty dollar bill.
"Keep the change," he ordered with assumed indifference. "Give it to
the charity."
"Richard!" his wife gazed at him with disapproval. "Have you lost your
mind? A twenty dollar bill!" she whispered.
"It's you who can't see beyond your nose," Mr. Topham retorted, but in
a low voice. "You're always trying to get into society, and then you
pass up a real opportunity. This donation will get our names into the
paper."
He slumped into the nearest chair, and, opening the afternoon paper,
buried himself in the stock page. Mrs. Topham knew that the matter
was closed, for she scarcely dared speak to her husband when he was
absorbed in the market reports. Nancy, too, realized that she had no
excuse for prolonging her stay.
"I really must be going," she said quickly. "What time is it, anyway?"
"There's a clock in front of you," Isabel told her pointedly.
[Illustration: "THERE'S A CLOCK IN FRONT OF YOU," ISABEL TOLD HER
POINTEDLY.]
"Why, so there is," Nancy returned pleasantly. She glanced at the
timepiece as though she had never seen it before. "Oh, surely that
can't be the old Crowley clock? I'm so interested in heirlooms."
"I should say not! This is a far more expensive clock than the
one Josiah Crowley left us," Mrs. Topham informed her caller
condescendingly.
"Indeed? But I suppose you still have the family clock stored away in
your attic. It's so hard to part with heirlooms." Cleverly, Nancy led
Mrs. Topham to further disclosures.
"It wasn't hard to part with that old-fashioned thing," Mrs. Topham
returned.
"We didn't want it cluttering up the attic," Isabel added. "Crowley
left so much old junk."
"We considered the clock entirely out of place in our modern home,"
Mrs. Topham continued; "so we sent it up to our bungalow on Moon Lake."
Unwittingly, Mrs. Topham had given Nancy the information which she
sought. The purpose of her visit accomplished, the girl politely
thanked the Tophams for the purchase of the charity tickets and quickly
took her leave.
As she walked down the path to the street she chuckled softly to
herself.
"The Tophams may be old schemers, but this time they weren't so clever!
Unless I am mistaken those tickets will prove the most expensive ones
they ever bought! Before they get through it may cost them the Crowley
fortune!"