The Mystery of the Headless Horseman

by Campbell, Julie

  “Right,” Mart said. “By the way, who did see that happen?”

  “We never did find that out,” Brian said. “Go on, Trix.”

  “The vase was delivered on a Friday evening,” Trixie continued. “But Mr. Crandall had no place to keep it over the weekend.”

  “The glass case hadn’t yet been delivered,” Honey said slowly. “The safe in the museum’s office had a broken lock. So we figured—you figured, Trixie—that Mr. Crandall took the vase home with him for safekeeping till the following Monday.”

  “But where did he put it?” Di asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “Mr. Crandall had just hidden a birthday present for his wife,” Trixie explained. “He must have thought up a terrific hiding place. Mrs. Crandall still hasn’t found her gift. Honey and I think he hid the Ming vase in with the birthday present.”

  Honey continued with the story. “Mr. Crandall liked puzzles. He gave his wife one clue about where the hiding place was. He said it was ‘elementary.’ But he died that same weekend before he could tell her anything more.”

  “Wait—there’s something else.” Trixie held firmly to her reins. “In the meantime, someone else had figured out all this, too.”

  “Harrison, by cracky!” Mart exclaimed.

  Trixie wasn’t listening. “He’s been trying to find that vase for himself. I’m sure, now that I think about it, that maybe he’s even offered to buy Mrs. Crandall’s house. That way, he could search for the vase until he found it. But Mrs. Crandall wouldn’t sell.”

  “By George, I’ve got it!” Mart shouted, startling Strawberry so much that the horse nearly unseated his rider. Mart struggled to remain upright. “Harrison dressed up as the headless horseman, didn’t he?” he said. “He wanted to scare Mrs. Crandall out of her house, and probably out of town. But Mrs. Crandall didn’t scare so easily. Is that right?”

  Trixie nodded. “I think so.”

  “So he telephoned to say her sister was sick?” Dan asked. “Gee, what a rotten thing to do.”

  “Boy!” Jim said. “He must have been mad when, instead of scaring her away for good, his actions caused Rose Crandall to bring her sister home to stay with her.”

  “I don’t know when my dad has ever been more wrong about anyone,” Di said, her eyes filling with tears. “I suppose he’s really part of a gang. They’ve stolen the goddess from the museum, and heaven knows what else besides.”

  “But where is Harrison?” Brian asked.

  “I don’t know,” Trixie answered. “But I do know what it was I was trying to remember. And it was important. You see, the deserted barn smelled the same as Honey’s stables. That means a horse has been kept there—and recently.” Honey’s mouth dropped open with surprise. “Of course!” she breathed. “The headless horseman had to stable his horse somewhere. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Where is this barn?” Jim asked. “Is it far away?”

  “However far it is,” Trixie said thoughtfully, “I have a hunch we ought to go there at once. I think we should search there first.”

  Trapped! ● 17

  SOON THE BOB-WHITES were in the woods once more. Trixie smelled again the pleasant scents of the forest. She could hear the soft clop-clop-clop of their horses’ hooves on its spongy floor.

  She sighed. “It doesn’t look nearly as spooky now,” she said to Jim, who was riding beside her. “The other night, when Honey and I got lost, we felt there was a ghost hiding behind every bush. If it hadn’t been for that dog of ours—”

  At that moment, as if he had known they were talking about him, Reddy came bounding through the trees. His ears flapped. His long tail streamed behind him. His coat no longer looked clean—or brushed, either. Trixie suspected he’d been chasing rabbits.

  “No, Reddy!” she yelled, half-standing in her saddle. “You can’t come with us! Go home!” Reddy paid no attention whatsoever. He was delighted to see them, and he wanted them all to know it. He uttered short, sharp barks as he dashed forward, as close as he dared to the horses’ feet, then dashed back again to chase his own tail.

  He caused such a commotion that the Bob-Whites had trouble holding on to their horses.

  “Mart! Do something!” Trixie yelled, as Susie plunged beneath her.

  “Reddy!” Mart shouted from Strawberry’s back. “Roll over! Play dead!”

  Instantly, Reddy sat. His tail, though, seemed to have a life of its own. It still twitched from side to side, causing brown leaves, dead twigs, and dark earth to cling to it.

  “Voilà!” Mart said proudly in the sudden silence. “One only has to know the correct commands, you see.”

  “Oh, Mart, do send him home,” Trixie said. Mart raised an eyebrow. “Are you admitting, my dear sister, that I have the ability to control our canine friend?”

  Brian laughed. “He’s got you there, Trixie.

  Reddy obeyed Mart immediately.”

  “But that’s not fair!” Trixie cried. “Mart was supposed to teach Reddy to do as he’s told.”

  “Correction!” Mart sounded smug. “I was supposed to teach Reddy to do what we want. Reddy is doing what we want. He’s sitting quietly.” Trixie sighed. “I guess I’ve lost our bet, after all,” she said. “Then again, maybe it’s worth a week of bedmaking at that.” She looked at their dog. “But you’d better do what we want right now, Reddy, my boy, or it will be the worse for you!”

  Reddy looked up and grinned at her.

  “Do let him stay,” Di pleaded. “He’ll keep us company.”

  “No sooner said than done,” Mart announced promptly. “Reddy! Go!”

  Reddy instantly moved close to Strawberry’s side and showed every indication of following them obediently.

  Trixie sighed again. “Now, if we can only solve our other troubles, we’ll really have something to celebrate.”

  They moved off again through the trees. Reddy’s tail, with its interesting accumulation of forest souvenirs, waved in triumph as he padded along beside them.

  When they reached the barn, Trixie could see that it looked even more dilapidated in daylight. A broken plow lay rusting beside it, and a pair of nesting doves had made their home under its rotting eaves.

  “Wow!” Mart breathed. “Will you look at that! It doesn’t seem as if anyone’s been near this place in years.”

  “Except for this!” Trixie cried. She leaned from her saddle and pointed to something on the soft ground.

  The Bob-Whites slid from their horses and gathered around to see.

  “It’s a hoofprint,” Dan said, frowning. “Why, that’s funny. It looks as if it was made—”

  “—by a horse wearing socks!” Di cried.

  Trixie was excited. “I really think we’re on the right track at last!”

  The Bob-Whites looped their reins over the low-hanging branches of a tree and hurried inside the barn.

  It took no more than a glance to tell the Bob-Whites that Trixie had guessed correctly. In a far corner stood a horse, his coat softly gleaming. He was as black as Jupiter and, Trixie thought, almost as beautiful. His hooves still wore the rags that allowed him to move soundlessly through the forest.

  “So there he is,” Trixie said softly, “the horse who wore socks. And when we thought he disappeared into thin air that night, he really didn’t. In the dark, we just thought he did because he made no noise.”

  Honey shuddered. “I know now that the ‘ghost’ was only Harrison dressed up to look spooky,” she told Jim. “But I keep on expecting the headless horseman to appear....”

  Her voice faded into terrified silence. She looked past her brother’s shoulder toward the far side of the barn. The other Bob-Whites turned swiftly.

  An apparition was walking toward them. It was enveloped in a black cloak that covered its wearer from the top of the hideously wide, headless shoulders to the tips of its white sneakers. The cloak had a small tear in its broad skirt.

  “Pretty effective, eh?” Mart’s voice said.

  I
n another moment, Trixie could see his flushed face as, laughing, he lifted the whole contraption from his head.

  “Mart!” Trixie exclaimed. “You scared us all!”

  “I found this hanging on a peg over there,” Mart said. “The cloak’s rigged up on a wooden frame, see?” He showed them how it fitted across his shoulders. They saw the tiny eyeholes that allowed its wearer to see.

  “The headless horseman rides again!” Dan exclaimed.

  Then, suddenly, there was a hurried movement behind them. They caught a quick glimpse of a tall figure wearing a derby hat.

  The barn door slammed shut. They heard the sounds of a heavy bar being slid across it.

  “That was Harrison!” Di cried. “Oh, what’ll we do? We’re trapped!”

  The boys wasted precious minutes trying to break down the door. They were not successful.

  “It’s no good,” Brian said. “That door’s stronger than it looks. Now what?”

  “We could yell for help,” Mart suggested. “Who would hear us way out here?” Honey said. “We could be stuck here till next Christmas. What do you think, Trix?”

  But Trixie, it seemed, was thinking of something else. “The whole thing just doesn’t make sense,” she muttered. “Why didn’t he search the house when he had the chance? Of course, it did smell of perfume. Then there’s that missing raincoat. I wonder—” She stopped, frowning. “I don’t remember Reddy coming in here with us.”

  “He didn’t,” Honey answered. “We left him outside with the horses.”

  Trixie pointed. “Then what’s he doing in here right this minute? Reddy, come!”

  Reddy, who had been busy exploring all the delightful barn smells, turned immediately and bounded away.

  Something creaked open. The Bob-Whites saw daylight as Reddy squeezed himself through a rotting board behind the black horse’s stall.

  “Saved, by George!” Mart said.

  “Be careful as you move behind the horse,” Jim warned, hurrying forward.

  But he had no need to worry. In another moment, all the Bob-Whites were breathing fresh air and blinking in the sunlight.

  “It was elementary, after all,” Mart announced with relief.

  Trixie stood as if turned to stone. Everything clicked inside her mind: the locked cellar door, the house that smelled of lavender, the missing raincoat, the practical joker, the Lien-Ting statue—

  “That’s it!” she cried. “That’s the answer! Oh, don’t you see? We’ve got to get to Sleepyside Hollow right away. We haven’t a moment to lose! I know, at last, exactly where the Ming vase is hidden!”

  Triumph! • 18

  NEVER HAD THE BOB-WHITES seen Trixie move so fast. While they were still untying their horses, she was already mounted on Susie’s back and trotting toward the forest path.

  In spite of his sister’s eagerness, Brian soon insisted on taking the lead. “I know the way through these woods better than you,” he said. “Follow me!”

  Brian was right. He led them swiftly to the now-familiar trail, then down into the clearing outside the little house. Without wasting another moment, Trixie jumped from Susie’s back.

  “Quick!” she told Brian. “Hide the horses!”

  She hurried to the front door.

  Mrs. Crandall looked surprised. It was almost as if she’d been expecting someone else. “Oh, my!” she said, wiping her hands on her white apron. “Won’t you all come in? We were just about to have a cool drink and something to eat.”

  Mart’s face fell when Trixie answered, “No, thank you, Mrs. Crandall. But may I please look at your fruit trees?”

  “Fruit trees?” Dan sounded puzzled.

  “I only hope we’re in time,” Trixie said. “I suspect, you see, that he’s found out somehow what the correct clue is. He came to the barn to get his horse this afternoon.”

  Mrs. Crandall gasped. “Are you telling me that you’ve figured out—?”

  “—the long-lost hiding place,” Trixie answered.

  And, hurrying them into the backyard, Trixie walked straight to the old apple tree. The Bob-Whites saw her hand disappear into a deep hole in its gnarled trunk. In another instant, she swung around to face them.

  “I’ve got them!” she breathed and slowly withdrew two bundles. One was small and gaily wrapped in birthday paper. The other—

  “Why, it’s—it’s nothing but a rolled-up old raincoat!” Honey exclaimed.

  “Jonathan’s missing raincoat!” Mrs. Crandall cried.

  “I think you’ll find it’s more than that,” Trixie said, laughing happily. Slowly, carefully, she unrolled it. There in its folds, safe from the weather, was a small wooden box.

  Mart stared. “Is it—?”

  It was. When they were all gathered in the living room, Mrs. Crandall carefully unsnapped a tiny catch and opened the box lid. They could all see the white padded interior. Snuggled cosily in its satin bed was the squat green shape of the priceless vase.

  Behind them, Polly Ward’s voice said, “Oh, Rose! You’ve found it! I’m so glad.”

  Then someone else added smoothly, “I had better take charge of that. How clever of Miss Trixie to have discovered it.”

  “Harrison!” Di exclaimed, swinging around to face him. “I should have known you’d be here!” Then she gasped.

  Harrison was in his shirt sleeves. The pink scar on his forehead gave his face a slightly sinister look. In his hand, he carried a knife!

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” Mart was ready to spring.

  “Mart!Stop!” Trixie cried. “Harrison isn’t the

  villain! And the knife he’s holding is for peeling potatoes, I think.”

  Harrison looked shocked. “I? A villain?”

  “But if it isn’t Harrison,” Di cried, “then who?”

  There was a soft click at the front door as someone opened it. A tall figure stood in the doorway. He wore a dark suit and a derby hat and carried a small gun in one hand. He looked surprised to find the room full of people.

  “I knew it had to be you!” Trixie cried. “You came here now to search one last time. You were going to leave Harrison’s hat behind to throw suspicion on him. You stole it, and the door key, too, for just such an occasion as this one. You’ve even kept watch on this house from the deserted barn.”

  The man didn’t answer.

  “You must have been scared today when Di found out that the statue at the museum was a fake,” Trixie continued. “Now you have to get out of town at once. What else have you stolen?”

  “Is this the practical joker?” Mrs. Ward said. “It’s no joke,” Trixie answered. “Last week he got Mrs. Crandall out of town, and he came here to search for the vase. But then Harrison arrived on the scene.”

  “So he got Harrison into that cellar by a trick?” Honey asked. “But why didn’t he search the place when he had the chance?”

  “He started to,” Trixie said. “I should have remembered sooner. We were waiting for the ambulance, Honey, and you began to wander around this room. You closed drawers. You straightened books. All those things out of order were the signs of a search, you see.”

  Henry the Eighth wandered into the room. Trixie glanced down at the cat. “It was Henry who spoiled your plans the other night,” she told the tall man. “You had searched in here and were about to begin upstairs. Suddenly, you heard a noise up there. You thought Harrison had brought his friends with him from the museum, and you panicked and ran.”

  “But what was the noise?” Mart asked.

  “Henry knocked over a bottle of cologne,” Trixie said.

  The man came close and sneered at her. “How clever of you to have figured out where Crandall hid the vase. I had just realized, myself, that it was in the apple tree.” He aimed the gun at Trixie and stretched out his other hand. “Don’t move! The vase is mine now! Hand it over!”

  Trixie looked beyond him to the open front door. Reddy sat there, waiting patiently.

  Trixie had a sudden idea. “Oh, Henry, for
give me!” she whispered. Then in a loud voice she called, “Reddy! Don't chase the cat!”

  In one second, Reddy was in the room. In another second, he had dashed between a pair of legs clothed in dark trousers.

  Their wearer didn’t have a chance. His legs shot out from under him just as his fingers were closing around the precious box.

  “Get him, boys!” Brian yelled, diving for the gun.

  Jim, Mart, and Dan joyfully obeyed. There were sounds of a loud scuffle on the floor. Then there was silence.

  From the top of a bookcase, Henry yawned and began to wash himself. Reddy, who had not come anywhere close to catching him, looked bitterly disappointed.

  Mart helped drag the tall man to his feet. “So this was the villain all along,” he said.

  The man in the derby hat was the curator of the art museum, Alfred Dunham.

  The next day, with Dunham safely behind bars, the Bob-Whites and Harrison gathered once more at Rose Crandall’s cottage.

  “But how did you figure it all out?” Di asked Trixie.

  “I almost didn’t,” Trixie confessed. “I, too, thought that Harrison was guilty. His actions, you see, were so suspicious.”

  “Great heavens!” Mrs. Crandall said. “If only I had known what you were all thinking, I could have told you that wasn’t so.”

  She smiled at Harrison. He had insisted on serving them all ice-cold lemonade and sugar cookies hot from the oven.

  “Why did you lie to us?” Di asked him.

  “I’ll tell you why,” Trixie said. “He’s been trying all along to clear Mr. Crandall’s name. Charlie Burnside and Janet Gray from the museum were helping him.”

  “Just so, miss,” Harrison agreed. “Several months ago, I was at the museum, and I saw my friend Jonathan take delivery of the Ming vase. I had to tell the police when I was asked, of course. I have felt bad ever since. Because of my testimony, many people thought my friend was a thief. I simply had to find that vase to help clear his name.”