“I want to go with you,” Trixie said.
“What about Lady? Are you going to let her stand there and catch cold?” Brian asked. “I think you’d better get her up to the stable and start grooming her, before she gets chilled.”
“Gleeps! I almost forgot her,” Trixie moaned.
Brian looked inquiringly at Jim, and Jim nodded. “Okay,” Brian agreed, “you’ve nagged us into it. Weil help you with Lady, and then you can come with us.” The stable seemed deserted as they led the mare in and went to work on her.
It took only a few minutes for Brian and Jim to clean the tack with saddle soap and sponge while Trixie was brushing Lady. She wasn’t quite finished with the job when they put the top on the saddle soap can and squeezed the sponge dry.
“Come on, slowpoke!” Brian teased her, and when she threatened to throw the brush at him, he took it from her, and he and Jim finished grooming Lady while Trixie stood off and bossed the job.
Then, while Brian took Lady to her stall and made her comfortable, Jim carried the saddle into the tack room. Trixie followed with the brushes, soap, sponge, and currycomb.
“Trix,” Jim said suddenly as he turned from hanging up the saddle, “don’t you think you’d better let Brian and me go out alone to Martin’s Marsh? I don’t want to scare you, but—well, you know, all sorts of accidents happen to people in swamps. And if Gaye is hurt—”
Trixie shook her head. “I’ll be all right. And I’m still just as sure as anything that she didn’t wander into the swamp. It must have been raining when she fell into that ditch, and I’m positive she wouldn’t have gone anywhere except to Miss Martin’s cottage. She must be there!”
“I hope you’re right.” Jim was very solemn. “Well, come on; let’s get started. We haven’t much daylight left.”
He hurried out, and Trixie took a couple of steps after him. As she did, something cast a moving shadow across the window, and she distinctly heard a footstep on the gravel along the side of the building.
She crossed the room quickly, unfastened the window screen, pushed it up so she could poke her head out, and looked up and down the length of the walk behind the stable. But there was no one in sight. Whoever had passed the window just now was gone, down one of the alleys between the buildings.
She withdrew her head quickly and fastened the screen securely. Then she hurried out to tell the boys that someone might have heard their plans to go out to Martin’s Marsh to look for Gaye.
Jim and Brian refused to get excited about it. “It was probably one of the assistant grooms or Mike the gardener. He keeps his new mower in the end building because there isn’t room for it in the toolshed. It’s one of those big ones with a seat for the guy who’s running it,” Jim said. “He’s promised to let me run it next time he barbers the grass. It ought to be a kick.”
“Say, how about letting me try it? That old elephant of Dad’s has me worn out from pushing it around our two bits’ worth of lawn,” Brian told him. “Let me know when you’ll be piloting it.”
Trixie looked from one to the other, and her eyes flashed. “Maybe it wasn’t the gardener, after all, but somebody who was spying on us!” she said loudly, to get their attention. It was annoying how they got all excited about a silly old lawn mower and refused to worry about important things.
“Oh, sure!” Brian teased her. “It was probably Miss Rachel Martin herself, disguised in a long white beard. Come on, let’s get this over with and bring that bike back to our howling baby brother before he drives Moms wild!”
They each took an arm and hurried Trixie down to the waiting jalopy.
“In you go, duchess,” Jim said, ushering Trixie into the rear seat. “Bob-Whites to the rescue!”
Brian climbed in and took his place at the wheel, and Jim got in beside him. “Lead on, Macduff,” Jim said, with a sweep of his arm.
“It isn’t ‘Lead on, Macduff,’ at all,” Trixie told him crossly. “It’s ‘Lay on, Macduff,’ and it’s from Macbeth.”
“Oh, no! Now she’s going literary on us! I never thought it could happen.” Brian groaned as he put the car in motion and headed toward Glen Road.
But Trixie glanced back up the driveway as they turned into the road and was almost certain that the figure she saw come out of the stable and stand staring after them was Paul Trent.
She wondered if she should mention it to the boys. They were already deep in a discussion of things called camshafts and tappets and other weird-sounding names that she guessed were parts of the jalopy. She decided not to mention Paul Trent.
Even if the person she had seen near the stable had been Paul, it was perfectly natural for him to be there, since he was probably questioning everybody, hoping to get some kind of scoop about Gave for his newspaper. She didn’t like him, but, after all, it was his job.
And there was nothing to connect him with the mysterious person who had passed the tack room window and disappeared. Jim was probably right that it was only the gardener or one of the grooms.
So she sat silent while Brian drove swiftly along Glen Road and took the turnoff into the old road that led to Martin’s Marsh.
Miss Rachel ● 10
THE OLD ROAD was still muddy and slippery from the noontime rain, and Brian had to slow down his small car as they neared the marsh road.
“Can’t we go any faster?” Trixie complained, after a glance at the rapidly sinking sun. “We don’t want to be wandering around here after dark.”
“Cheer up, sis,” Brian called back to her. “There’s a good half hour of light left. If we can’t find Gaye in that time, we might as well give up and go home. We’ll know that your hunch misfired.”
“I don’t see why you keep calling it a hunch,” Trixie flung at him crossly. “If you had found Bobby’s bike in the ditch and all the rest of the clues, you’d call it evidence, I’m sure.”
“Hold everything, kids,” Jim chuckled. “Weil soon know what to call it. I see what must be the ruins of the old Martin mansion off there to the right. The cottage should be close now.”
“It’s just around the next bend. Weil be there in half a sec,” Trixie told him. But at that moment, the small car went into a skid, and she added hastily, “That is, if we ever do get there!” and closed her eyes.
Brian hung tightly to the wheel and braked with short, sharp jabs until the car was under control. It had turned almost completely around, but it hadn’t hit any of the big trees alongside the road. He carefully guided it back to the proper side of the road. “Phew!” he said as he stopped it. “That was a pretty close one!”
“Neat work, sonny,” Jim told him lightly.
Trixie opened her eyes and unclenched her fists. “Are we all here?” she asked with an unsteady grin. “Never a dull moment. It’s a good thing days like this don’t happen often. I simply couldn’t stand the strain!” She pretended to fan herself with her hand.
“Hoity-toity, madam,” Brian jeered. “You faint, and we make you walk the rest of the way!”
They were passing the ruins a moment later, when Trixie bounced up suddenly. “Those footprints were Rachel Martin’s. They must have been!”
Brian groaned. “Now it’s footprints! I was wondering when she’d find some footprints! The gal is footprint dizzy!”
Jim was more serious. “What footprints, Trix?”
“The ones Honey and I saw in the rose garden back of the ruins of the Martin place. They had pointed toes, * and we couldn’t decide if a little boy or a girl had left them. Now I remember that Miss Rachel Martin was wearing old-fashioned buttoned shoes with pointed toes when she talked to me at the door. So it’s only logical
that the footprints must have been hers!”
“Logical, my small sister, but quite irrelevant. What does it prove about Gaye’s whereabouts?” Brian teased.
Trixie hesitated, and Jim grinned at her. “Got you there, Miss Belden!”
Trixie frowned at them and tilted her nose. “Well, anyhow, it’s interest
ing,” she said loftily and lapsed into silence until they had turned the corner and were in sight of the small white cottage.
Brian stopped the car close to where the bike stood against the tree near the muddy ditch.
“There!” Trixie said triumphantly, pointing to it.
“I don’t hear any barking,” Jim said, getting out.
“Mr. Poo is probably asleep,” Trixie guessed.
“I hope we don’t interrupt his dear little nap,” Brian chuckled. “That is, if he is here.”
“Let’s get the bike loaded into the car before we go to the cottage,” Jim suggested.
It took the two boys only a few minutes to drag the small bicycle out of the mud and load it into the backseat of the car.
Trixie watched silently, casting uneasy glances toward the cottage. She expected to see Miss Rachel come stalking out at any moment to order them away.
The sun was now a ball of fire behind the tall evergreens beyond the cottage. In a few minutes, it would dip down and be gone. Then there would be only a short period of spring twilight before dark settled down. They would have to hurry if they had to go on to the swamp to look for Gaye.
“Well, who faces the lady dragon in yon castle?” Jim asked as he closed the car door. “Let’s pick a victim.”
“She won’t even open the door if she sees it’s me back again,” Trixie said promptly, “so it’s got to be one of you.”
“Ungrammatical, but possibly true,” Jim agreed, with a wink at Brian. “So, Dr. Brian, polish up your best bedside manner and try it out on the lady.”
“Oh, see here, now—” Jim’s kidding had gotten Brian a little flustered.
“Duty calls.” Jim grinned. “Scoot along, Doc.”
Brian snorted, “Chicken, hey?” And as Jim pretended to take a swing at him, Brian ducked and laughed.
“Do hurry,” Trixie said, with a nervous glance at the disappearing sun. And Brian, sobering suddenly, walked rapidly toward the cottage.
Jim and Trixie watched for a moment as he went in at the gate and hurried to the door. Then Jim glanced toward the barn. “Did you look carefully inside there?” he asked.
“As well as I could,” Trixie told him, “but it was so dark and cobwebby, I felt sure Gaye would never hide in there.” She shuddered. “At least, I never would!”
Jim nodded. “I hid in a place like that once, when I was running away from my stepfather. It was scary after dark, with the funny noises and mysterious shadows.”
“Ugh!” Trixie shivered.
“Hey! The bedside manner is working!” Jim nodded toward the cottage. Trixie stared. Brian was talking to Miss Rachel, and there was a pleasant smile on the face of the little old lady in her old-fashioned starched cotton dress. She held out her hand to Brian in a friendly greeting, and a moment later they both turned toward Trixie and Jim.
“Hey, Trix! You and Jim come here. Miss Martin wants to meet you.”
“Well, what do you know?” Trixie’s jaw dropped.
“Good old Doc Belden scores again!” Jim laughed, and he took her arm as they hurried over to join Brian at the cottage door. Miss Martin waited for them with a smile.
“There hasn’t been any little girl here except yourself,” she told Trixie pleasantly. “I’m sorry I was so short with you this noon, child. I didn’t know then that you were Peter Belden’s daughter. You Beldens have lived in Sleepyside almost as long as we Martins have been here. Your father is a fine man.”
“Why, thanks, Miss Martin.” Trixie beamed.
“My sister is sure she heard Gaye’s poodle barking somewhere around here earlier,” Brian said with a smile. “You may have seen him. A small white puppy. Gaye took him with her, we think, when she ran away.”
Miss Rachel shook her head. “I haven’t seen him, either.”
Trixie glanced past the elderly woman, still hoping to see some evidence that Gaye was there. But the neat, small living room showed nothing except that Miss Rachel was an excellent housekeeper and owned some fine furniture.
“Well, I guess we’d better head for the swamp right away. That’s probably where she went, after all,” Jim said gravely.
“The swamp? Oh!” There was a sharp edge in Miss Rachel’s voice. “Do be careful, all of you, if you try to look for her there! It’s a terrible place!”
“That’s the reason we’ve got to hurry, Miss Martin,” Trixie said quickly. “If she’s lost in there, she might fall into a hole or something.”
“Yes, I know!” Miss Martin cast a frightened look in the direction of the marshland. “Oh, do hurry before it gets really dark. Others—” Miss Martin’s voice grew suddenly so soft it was almost a whisper—“others have been lost in there.” She stared off, with a shiver.
“We’re on our way right now,” Brian said hurriedly. “And thanks'!” He motioned Jim and Trixie to follow him as he turned away. Trixie hesitated and tried to think of something polite to say, but Miss Martin was still looking off, with a strange expression on her face, so, after a moment, Trixie turned and followed Jim and Brian down the narrow brick walk toward the gate.
“I wonder why she’s lived here so long, when she’s so afraid of the swamp. I wouldn’t,” Trixie stated flatly as she caught up with the boys. She spoke softly, because Miss Martin was still standing in the doorway.
“Maybe when the old family mansion burned down, she had no other place to go,” Jim guessed quietly. “I imagine that this cottage was the servants’ quarters originally.”
“Uh-huh.” Brian nodded, but he was frowning. “I suppose so. I was trying to remember something Dad told me about the Martins one day after he’d been out here on bank business. He said there’d been some kind of family tragedy a long while ago—about the same time that the big Martin place burned down.”
“Let’s ask him about it tonight,” Trixie said quickly. From a long way off they heard the sound of a car siren. “Hey, listen!” Jim said suddenly. “Police!”
“Chasing a speed bug on the highway, probably,” Brian guessed. “Sound carries a lot farther at night.”
Both boys stopped to listen, but Trixie plucked at her brother’s sleeve. “Come on, Brian. Let’s go to the swamp. Can’t you see how dark it’s getting? If Gaye finds herself alone in there in the dark....” She gulped as her voice trailed off.
But she didn’t have to finish. They knew what could happen.
They started through the gate but stopped suddenly as the police car siren became louder.
“Headed this way.” Jim frowned. “That’s strange!”
“Did you tell anyone about Bobby’s bike?” Brian asked hastily.
“Only the two of you,” Trixie assured him. Then she remembered something. “Oh! That reporter from the Sun!"
“What about him?” Brian scowled.
“I saw somebody watching us from the stable just as we drove away from Wheelers’, and I’m sure it was Paul Trent. And the person who was sneaking around outside the tack room could have been Trent, too. He could have phoned the police and told them where we were coming to look for Gave.”
Headlights came into sight at that moment, and they saw the blinker light of a police car. It slowed down as it came up.
“We’ll know in a minute,” Jim said quietly as they stood waiting.
“Look! I knew it!” Trixie exclaimed indignantly. The first person to jump out of the police car was Paul Trent. He saw them and came swaggering over.
“Did you find her?” he called out importantly.
Trixie glowered at him and so did Brian. It was Jim who answered casually, “Find whom?”
In the background, Miss Crandall was being helped out of the police car by Sergeant Rooney.
“Gaye, of course!”Trent snapped.
“What makes you think we were looking for her here?” Jim asked coldly.
“Why, I heard—I mean—” Trent was stammering as they stared woodenly at him. “That is—uh—”
Trixie stuck her chin out at him. �
�You mean you sneaked around listening to a private conversation!” she snapped. “Well, it won’t do you much good, because she just isn’t here!”
Sergeant Rooney and Miss Crandall hurried up to them. “Where’s the kid?” he demanded.
“We haven’t found her,” Brian told him. “Miss Martin says she hasn’t seen her around.”
The sergeant wheeled on the young reporter. “I thought you claimed they had proof she was out here! What’s the idea? Giving false information to the police is a misdemeanor!”
“But I thought—” Trent squirmed unhappily. He broke off under the sergeant’s glare. Sergeant Rooney turned his back to the reporter.
“Okay, kids,” he said a bit grimly to Trixie and the two boys. “What’s the story here?”
Trixie explained in a few words about finding the bicycle in the ditch and why she thought Gaye might have left it there and be somewhere around the old cottage.
“We were just on our way to the swamp to try to find her, when you arrived,” Brian added.
The sergeant looked grim. “I’m glad you didn’t. There’s a lot of dangerous quicksand in there, and some of it is close to the footpath. It’s no place to wander after dark.”
“I know I’ll never see my darling niece again! Oh-h-h!” Miss Crandall leaned on young Trent’s shoulder and sobbed.
Trixie had a sudden idea. “Miss Martin might know someone who could guide you through the swamp at night,” she told the sergeant. “There she is at the door, watching us.”
“Might be a good idea to ask her,” the sergeant agreed, and he started up the walk.
Paul Trent called out after him, “While you’re at it, you’d be smart to take a look around inside the house. It still could be a kidnap plot, and the kid could be stashed away in some back room and held for ransom!”
Miss Crandall gave a loud moan at the word “ransom,” but the sergeant glared disgustedly at Trent. “That tune of yours is getting on my nerves, buster,” he snapped. “Forget it! Miss Martin’s respectable. Her folks owned half of Westchester County when Indians owned the other part!”
The Marshland Mystery Page 8
