The Secret of the Mansion

by Julie Campbell

  "You're a wonder," Trixie said as they entered the big white house. "I wish I'd learned to ride a horse as fast as you learned to ride a bike."

  "But you have, Trixie," Honey insisted. "Regan thinks you're terrific."

  "I'll bet he does," Trixie said ruefully. "After what happened this morning!"

  "He's not the least bit mad at you," Honey said with a giggle, "but he gave me the dickens for letting you ride jupe. He threatened to tell Dad and everything, but I knew he wouldn't."

  The girls changed into bathing suits in Honey's room which was the prettiest room Trixie had ever seen. There were crisp white ruffled organdy curtains at the windows with a matching bedspread and a big white fluffy rug on the polished floor. The long closet was filled with dainty summer frocks, and beneath them, in individual cellophane boxes, were more shoes than Trixie had ever seen outside of a shoe store. Honey had her own private bathroom with a separate glassed-in shower and a sunken tub that was big enough to have served Bobby as a wading pool.

  "I feel as though I were in a castle," Trixie said, in an awed voice. "I expect to see a fairy godmother any minute!"

  Honey slipped into pale blue sharkskin shorts with a matching halter. "Sometime," she said shyly, "maybe you could spend the night with me. My bed's big enough for two, but if you'd rather you could sleep in one of the guest rooms."

  "I'd rather be with you," Trixie said quickly. "That would be fun. And I know Moms would let me any time you ask me."

  Down at the boathouse, Trixie, who didn't mind getting her short blond curls wet, dove off the diving board while Honey tucked her hair inside a bright red cap. Trixie floated on her back, luxuriating in the coolness of the water which was fed by icy springs. She watched Honey do a perfect jackknife off the board and cut cleanly through the water.

  "Golly," she said as Honey swam beside her, "you do the crawl better than Mart, and you could give us all diving lessons!"

  Honey smiled. "That's camp for you. There was never anything to do but swim and ride. I've been going to camp every summer since I was four, you know."

  After a while they stretched out in the sun to dry off. As though by magic, a trim little maid in a crisp uniform and cap appeared with a tray of lemonade and a big chocolate layer cake.

  "Do you realize," Honey demanded as she poured fruit juice into tall glasses of cracked ice, "that we have known each other only a couple of days? So much has happened it seems a month! Nothing ever happened to me till we moved to the Manor House. And to think, at first, I thought I was going to hate it!"

  "It's a wonderful place," Trixie said, reaching hungrily for the large piece of freshly baked cake that Honey handed her. "I wish we owned it."

  "Oh, no, you don't," Honey interrupted hastily. "Your little farmhouse is much cuter. It's got such a nice, cozy, lived-in feeling. This place is-well, as you said yourself-like a castle. I don't feel as though I belong here yet. But then, I felt the same way about our big duplex apartment in New York. It was just the place I stayed in, between camp and school." She added confidingly, "Mother doesn't like it here. I guess that's why Dad's taking her on a trip this evening. Mother likes to have a lot of people around all the time."

  "Why, I've never even seen your mother," Trixie exclaimed wonderingly.

  Honey flushed. "I know, and I want you to meet her as soon as they get back. She'll probably give a party and ask your mother and father. Mother was always giving parties in town or going out to them." She leaned forward a little, frowning. "I'm scared Mother won't stay here this winter, and I'll be sent away to school again! And, oh, gosh, Trixie, I want to stay here and go to school with you."

  "I hope you do," Trixie said enthusiastically. "And wouldn't it be swell if old Mr. Frayne should get well and have Jim live with him? Then we could all go to school together."

  Honey nodded and sucked thoughtfully at her glass straw. "I'm so afraid his uncle will die, and he'll have to go back to that awful Jonesy."

  The girls sat in the boathouse for a while, thinking about Jim's problem, and then Trixie said, "We can't go in swimming right after eating, so let's row over to that cove on the other side of the lake. Brian and Mart and I always wanted to explore over there, but you can't get to it from the woods on our property because there's so much poison ivy."

  "I don't know how to row," Honey objected. "Neither do L" Trixie slid off the landing into the boat. "But all you do, I think, is push backward or forward with the oars. We can figure it out somehow."

  Honey stepped in gingerly beside her. Trixie untied the boat and pushed it away from the landing. "I'll row," she said. "And I think you're supposed to sit in the stern. That's the other end," she added with a giggle, as Honey slipped past her and the boat rocked precariously. Honey sat down hard as Trixie put the oars into the oarlocks. At first they made very little headway, going mostly in circles; but, in a few minutes, Trixie had the boat under control and they rowed smoothly across the lake.

  "It's easy as pie," she said as she guided the boat into the cove, "but I'm hot all over again, now. I'm going to dive right in and get cooled off," she added as she climbed onto a big flat rock.

  "Be careful, Trixie," Honey cried. "It may be shallow here!"

  But the warning came too late. As Trixie cut through the water, her legs scraped against the gravelly bottom. Then she felt a sharp pain in her head, and everything went black. When she opened her eyes again, she was sprawling upon the bank, half-in and half-out of the lake. The branches of the overhanging willow trees swayed dizzily above her, and she felt as though she were going to be sick. Her head ached as badly as it had when she'd had the measles, and when she drew her hand away from her cheek her fingers were sticky with blood. As the buzzing sound in her ears began to fade, she could hear Honey saying something in a voice that seemed very faraway.

  Trixie closed her eyes to shut out the sight of the swaying branches and asked weakly, "What happened?" Honey's voice came closer. "You must have hit your head on an underwater rock. It's only a few feet deep around here. I dragged you out by your hair. Do you feel better now?"

  Trixie tried to nod her head but it had become too large and heavy to move. Gradually, the dizzy sensation left her, and she sat up, holding her throbbing head in both hands. "That was a dumb thing to do," she said sheepishly. "Diving off before I found out how deep it was."

  Honey filled her bathing cap with water and washed the blood off Trixie's face. "It's not a very deep cut," she said, "but you're going to have a big bruise on your temple. It's already swelling."

  Suddenly Trixie laughed. "Here I am all covered with blood and you're washing it off. How did it happen you didn't faint?"

  "Gosh," Honey gasped in amazement. "That's right, I didn't. I guess I just didn't have time to think about it." She grinned. "I never felt less like fainting in my life. How do you feel?"

  Trixie opened her mouth to say, "Better," when she caught a glimpse of something yellow skulking through the trees on the hill. "Oh, Honey!" she gasped. "There's that stray dog again. See him up there by the big oak?"

  Honey stifled a scream. "He's coming down here. Oh, Trixie, what'll we do?"

  Trixie stood up dizzily. The boat had floated away from the cove during the excitement, and she knew she was too weak to swim out after it. Honey stood frozen in her tracks, ankle deep in the water. Trixie gave her a little push. "You've got to get the boat," she ordered. I can't make it, now. You've got to!"

  She held her breath as Honey hesitated, then obediently plunged into the lake, flailing the water with her fast crawl strokes. Trixie lost sight of the dog for a moment, and then he appeared down on the path under the weeping willows. A mother duck quacked loudly to her babies and ushered them into the lake as the yellow dog slunk past.

  Honey was pushing the rowboat back now, churning a wake behind her with her legs, and Trixie -waded out to meet her. Her knees were knocking together from weakness and fright, and her head ached so she could hardly think. The dog hadn't gone after the d
ucks, she reasoned, so perhaps he couldn't swim. That was their only hope.

  The boat scraped against the big, flat rock. "You get in first," Trixie ordered, holding it steady as Honey clambered over the side. "You've got to row." Somehow, she hoisted herself onto the rock.

  Honey was trembling so she could hardly get the oars in place. "Can you make it?" she asked over one shoulder. "Oh, Trixie, I can't row."

  "You'll learn," Trixie said shortly as she slid from the rock into the stern.

  The dog had caught sight of them now, and he broke into a run. With all the strength she could muster, Trixie leaned out and pushed the boat away from the rock. It shot out of the cove just as the ugly mongrel plunged off the path to the water's edge. He began to bark threateningly and leaped from the cove to the big flat rock.

  Honey struggled desperately with the oars, too confused to follow Trixie's directions. The boat went round

  and round in what seemed like never-ending circles, getting nearer and nearer to the cove instead of away from it. "Suppose he can swim, Trixie," she wailed. "What'll we do?"

  Jim's Discovery

  Trixie shuddered as she glanced swiftly at those dangerously close yellow eyes and savage jaws. "Hit him on the head with an oar, of course," she answered grimly. Suddenly, she remembered that Jim had said the dog was really a coward, and she crouched forward as she reached behind her for the rubber cushion on the stern seat. Then she threw it with all her might and main right into the dog's ugly face. The cur yelped in astonishment, lost his balance, and toppled backward with a loud splash into the shallow water. The bow of the boat bumped against the rock as the dog floundered to shore, shook himself, and darted off through the trees with his tail between his legs.

  Trixie was too weak to move for a minute, and it was Honey who pushed the boat out of the cove with an oar. "You're simply wonderful, Trixie," she gasped.

  Trixie splashed cold water on her face and felt better. "You're the real heroine," she said. "You went after the boat. I couldn't have made it."

  "A lot of good that did," Honey insisted. "I've sim-ply got to learn to row." She giggled as the boat began to move in circles again. "I think this thing is bewitched."

  "I do, too." Trixie reached out and scooped up the rubber cushion as it floated past. "I'm getting dizzy all over again."

  "That gives me an idea," Honey interrupted. "Let's name it the witch. The Water Witch."

  As thou h chastened, the Water Witch suddenly began to behave, and Honey rowed back across the lake without further trouble.

  Now it's your turn to put iodine on me," Trixie said as they climbed up the rustic steps from the boathouse.

  Miss Trask met them on the wide veranda and supervised Honey's first-aid treatment. While they were changing into their clothes, Trixie said, "I know what let's do. Let's go down to your mailbox and see if the village paper has been delivered yet. The postman usually leaves it with the mail about this time of day. There might be something about old Mr. Frayne in it."

  "But what about that dog?" Honey said hesitantly. "Won't he come back?"

  "I'm not afraid of him any longer," Trixie answered. "He's a coward, just as Jim said. But let's take along a good strong stick or something."

  Honey got two of her father's heavy walking sticks from the stand in the huge hall, and they hurried down the driveway.

  On top of the mail in the Wheeler box was a copy of The Sleepyside Sun. Honey unfolded it quickly and gave a little gasp. Trixie peered over her shoulder and read:

  JAMES WINTHROP FRAYNE SERIOUSLY ILL

  James Winthrop Frayne, 82, of Ten Acres, Glen Road, is seriously ill of pneumonia. Mr Frayne, who was one of the founders of the Sleepyside Hospital, was found yesterday morning, unconscious at the foot of his driveway by a neighbor, Mr Peter Belden, employee of the First National Bank. Mr Belden drove the aged man to the hospital where his condition was pronounced serious. Today doctors said Mr Frayne was failing rapidly. Authorities are making every effort to locate and notify Mr Frayne's relatives, t so far no record of any living relative has been found.

  "Honey," Trixie said, "we'd better tell Jim about this right away. If the story gets into the New York papers, the place will be swarming with reporters."

  "Oh, I don't think it's important enough for that," Honey said dubiously.

  "You never can tell," Trixie insisted. "If a New York paper heard the story about half a million dollars being hidden up there, they'd send photographers out, and when they saw all those piles of junk, the story would be all over the front page."

  "Well, maybe so," Honey admitted. "But I honestly don't believe that story and neither does Jim."

  "I do," Trixie said stubbornly. Her concern about Jim had made her forget her aching head for a few minutes as she continued, "And, anyway, Jim ought to try to find a will or something. I'm going straight up there now and tell him he really ought to search the place thoroughly while he still has a chance."

  Honey stuck the paper back in the mailbox. "I'll come with you, but don't you have to water your garden?" "Oh," Trixie moaned 'I forgot all about that."

  "I'll help," Honey offered.

  Later, as they filled two big watering cans at the cistern, Trixie complained, "This is almost the worst part of having a garden. I wish it would rain. Everything's so dry around here if anyone dropped a lighted match on a leaf we'd have a regular forest fire."

  "I know," Honey said as they trudged down to the garden. "Jim was talking about that this morning when he was being very careful to put out every spark of the fire he built outside. He was also kind of worried that someone might see the smoke and investigate."

  "Well, he needn't worry about that," Trixie panted as she sloshed water on the pepper plants. "There's not another place around here except yours and ours for acres and acres. But he'd better be careful inside that crumbling old house with all that paper lying around. If a fire ever started there, no one would ever be able to stop it."

  They walked slowly back and refilled their watering cans. "The cistern's almost empty," Trixie said. "It went dry one summer when a fire started down in our field below the garden. There aren't any hydrants around here, you know, so, although they sent out the whole fire department, the chemical truck was the only one they could use. They got the fire under control pretty quickly," she went on, "but the chief told Dad that if the wind had been blowing in the other direction our house would have caught fire before they could have stopped it. We've been awfully careful about matches ever since then, and Dad won't even let Brian burn the trash now."

  Honey glanced up at the old house on the hill.

  "Gosh," she murmured, "if the Mansion caught fire, it might sped through the woods to our house and yours, mightn't it?"

  "That's right," Trixie said. "And in this dry weather all three of them would probably burn to the ground." When the last row of plants had been watered, the girls put I the cans and garden tools in the garage and started up the hill.

  'I'm : - so tired I can hardly move," Honey said as she trailed farther and farther behind. "I guess I'm just not used to so much exercise. I've simply got to rest a minute or I'll drop in my tracks."

  "Okay," Trixie said, "but come on just as soon as you can."

  She whistled as she passed through the thicket, and in a minute or two Jim appeared at the window. "Hi," he called out. "Didn't expect to see you until tomorrow."

  "I've got bad news," Trixie panted. "Your uncle's dying, Jim. It was in the afternoon paper."

  Jim looked serious. "That's too bad. I wish I dared risk going in to see him. I'm his only living relative, you know."

  ,,You mustn't," Trixie objected. "The police or somebody would want to know where you're living and all about you. They'd be sure to notify Jonesy then, wouldn't they?"

  Jim nodded thoughtfully. "Just the same, I hate to think of Uncle James dying in a hospital all alone."

  I think we ought to search some more for that money," Trixie insisted. "He may die without telli
ng anyone where it is."

  I have searched." Jim reached inside for the shotgun he had been cleaning and, dangling his long legs over the sill, began polishing the barrel with a piece of oily rag. "I've given all the downstairs a thorough going-over," he went on. "I've even rapped the living-room panels from floor to ceiling looking for a secret hiding place." He grinned. "And don't ask me because I looked: there's not a single sign of a trap door in the cellar."

  Trixie sat down on the sparse grass beneath the window. She suddenly felt as exhausted as Honey had a few minutes before. "There must be a will, or at least a letter, around somewhere which would tell where the money's hidden," she said crossly. "How about that desk?"

  Jim shook his head. I found the key to the desk. It was hanging on a ring with a bunch of others on a nail behind the cellar door. There was nothing in the desk but some pass books to several New York savings banks."

  "Well, my goodness," Trixie exclaimed excitedly. "That's something, anyway. You're the heir, so all the money in those banks will belong to you when your uncle dies."

  Jim loaded the gun before he replied. "All those accounts had been closed out years ago, Trixie," he said quietly. "I'm afraid that proves more than ever that Uncle James spent or lost all his money."

  Trixie sighed. "I think we really ought to search the top floor, Jim. Right away. If your uncle dies, the story may be written up in the New York papers, and then there'll be a lot of reporters snooping around here, and we may never have another chance."

  Jim looked startled. "If it gets in the papers Jonesy will come snooping around," he said slow .

  "Well, then," Trixie cried triumphantly. "Let's get ? I'm going. Is there a ladder in the barn

  Jim frowned. "I don't like the idea. It seems like prying into something my uncle didn't want anyone to see." "Why must you be so stubborn?" Trixie demanded.

  "I don't see what difference it makes. If you searched one floor, why not another? Anyway, the whole place really belongs to you now, Jim!"