The Secret in the Old Attic by Carolyn Keene Page A

music.
    “Oh, I didn’t mean to do it!” Susan cried in dismay. “What will Grandpa say?”
    “It wasn’t your fault,” Nancy assured her. “Fortunately you weren’t hurt. And you’ve uncovered a clue!” she exclaimed.
    Excitedly Nancy examined the torn place. Several tiny bars of music were painted on the wall!
    Nancy summoned Mr. March to the stairway. At first he thought she was calling attention to the costume, but when the elderly man saw the music notes, he too became excited.
    “Maybe it’s part of one of our old family songs!” he exclaimed. “I’d like to know if there’s any more of it here. Let’s tear off the paper!” Mr. March urged. “It’s too faded to worry about, anyway.”
    Inch by inch, with the help of Nancy, Bess, and George, he removed a large area of the wall covering. It was slow, tedious work, but at last they were successful. Gradually a charming, old fashioned scene was revealed of a woman seated at a piano and a man beside her singing.
    The last bit of paper to come off partially covered the music rack of the piano. Someone had sketched in a sheet of music, the notes of which had first drawn Nancy’s attention. Printed in tiny lettering was the composer’s name, a member of the March family.
    Nancy hummed the pictured notes. The tune was indeed one which Fipp March had elaborated upon, and was a current “hit.”
    “Now we have real proof that Ben Banks is an impostor! This is one of the melodies he claims as his!” Mr. March exclaimed.
    “Would a court accept such evidence?” George asked.
    “I think it would,” Nancy said soberly. “Of course it might not be necessary to go to such lengths. If Mr. Jenner knows we have a case against him, he’ll probably prefer to settle matters without a lawsuit. If you wish, Mr. March, I’ll see the publisher.”
    “Yes, do that,” he urged.
    Nancy asked Bess and George if they would accompany her to Mr. Jenner’s office in Oxford, a town several miles from River Heights. The girls were eager to go, and suggested starting at once. An hour later, they arrived at their destination, a dingy brick structure.
    “This isn’t very inviting,” said Bess as they entered.
    From an upstairs room came the strains of a swing band. In another section of the building someone was picking out a few notes on a piano.
    “Listen!” Nancy cried suddenly.
    “I don’t hear anything except that loud music,” George declared. “The tune is catchy but all those discords!”
    “The person at the piano is playing one of Fipp March’s songs!” Nancy said.
    The girls moved nearer to the closed door. Soon the piano playing ceased abruptly. After waiting a moment, the callers went along the hall until they came to a door which bore the name of the music publisher. Nancy and her friends entered.
    They found themselves in an untidy little room. A desk was piled high with papers, books, and stacks of music. A girl sat at a typewriter. She chewed gum to the rhythm of her typing and did not look up for a long while.
    “Well?” she inquired at last.
    “May we see Mr. Jenner, please?” Nancy requested politely.
    The girl looked her over from head to toe.
    “If you have music to sell, you’ve come to the wrong place. Mr. Jenner isn’t buying from amateurs.”
    “I have nothing to sell,” Nancy replied. “Please give my name to your employer.”
    She removed a card from her purse. The office girl accepted it with a shrug and vanished into an inner room. She did not return for several minutes. Then her message was crisp and to the point.
    “Mr. Jenner isn’t seeing anybody today except one of his composers. And he said to tell you it wouldn’t do any good to come back, either!”
    “I see,” said Nancy. Flushing slightly, she turned away.
    “I was afraid this might happen,” she declared as the girls paused in the hall.
    “I feel like going back in there and demanding an interview!” George said.
    “Let your father handle that horrid