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hasn’t.”
    “I think this guy needs a computer,” George said. “Might help him keep his victims straight.” She pulled on her bathrobe.
    “No kidding.” Nancy took off her khaki-colored corduroy blazer and hung it up in the closet. “So how did you and Ned do today?” she asked, slipping off her loafers. She wriggled her toes. “Any luck with the typewriters?”
    George went over to the dresser and took the blackmail notes out of her purse, handing them to Nancy. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t look like these were typed at Cherbourg Industries.”
    “Of course,” Nancy said thoughtfully, “the blackmailer could still work there and have typed these at home.” She pulled out the notes and began to examine them with the small magnifying glass she always carried in her purse. Shaking her head, she looked up. “I don’t see anything special. Oh, by the way, where’d Ned go?”
    Before George could answer, a knock interrupted them. George hurried into the living room to answer the door.
    “Who is it?” Nancy asked.
    “Just the bellman from downstairs,” George called back. “He brought the newspaper up.” She came back into the bedroom, unfolding it. Her face went suddenly white.
    “Nancy,” she gasped. “Look!”
    Nancy looked at the paper in George’s hands. Across the front page, in big black letters, the headline screamed “NANCY DREW DIES IN MONTREAL!”

Chapter Four
    N ANCY DROPPED HER magnifying glass and snatched the paper away from George. She looked at it closely. “Look, George,” she said, pointing, “the letters are all pasted up. And my picture has been cut out of another newspaper.”
    “Really slick,” George said sarcastically, staring at the paper. “Whoever did this is so creative.”
    “Yeah,” Nancy said, biting her lip. “And evil, too.” She picked up the phone from the bedside table.
    “Who are you calling?” George asked.
    “The bellman,” Nancy replied. “I want to find out how he got this paper.”
    The bellman couldn’t tell Nancy anything specific. He said he’d found the paper downstairs, on the desk just inside the door of the apartment building. Somebody must have put it there when he was away. The room number was scrawled on it, so he’d brought it upstairs immediately.
    “No leads there,” Nancy said with a sigh, hanging up. “The street door is only locked at night. Anybody could have walked in and left it.”
    Just then Ned came home. He popped his head into the bedroom. “What’s going on?”
    Without a word, Nancy handed him the paper.
    “Uh-oh,” he said, taking it from her.
    “ ‘Uh-oh’ is right,” Nancy agreed soberly. “Looks like we’ve spooked our blackmailer.”
    Ned sat down on the bed, staring at the paper. “Where’d this picture come from, Nan? I don’t recognize it.”
    Nancy frowned. “I’ve been trying to remember. It could give us a clue about who’s behind all this.”
    Ned looked at Nancy. “Well, no matter who the blackmailer is, this case is getting serious. We’re not dealing with somebody who’s just shooting off interoffice memos for spare change. This is a death threat.”
    George frowned. “I wonder how many people—besides Ms. Amberton, that is—know that we’re staying in this apartment.”
    “That’s a good question,” Nancy said grimly. “I’ll ask Ashley Amberton tomorrow.”
    “Correction,” Ned said. “ We’ll ask Ashley Amberton. I don’t think you ought to work alone on this one, Nan.” He reached for her hand. “Two will be safer than one.”
    George gave them a quick glance and picked up her cosmetic case. “Well, if you two don’t mind,” she informed them lightly, “I’ve got a date tonight—for a French lesson.” She tossed her head and smiled devilishly. “I’m going to learn to say more than just oui .” She disappeared into the bathroom, humming to herself.
    Nancy sighed. It didn’t take a detective to see that George had found a new friend—a very