The Gatehouse Mystery

by Julie Campbell

  Honey chuckled. “All the men on this place have red hair and tempers and know nothing about automobiles and all about horses and dogs. Where’s Daddy?”

  “He’s upstairs in Regan’s room over the garage telephoning for help.” He grinned. “This is the third time this week that we’ve had to send to town for a mechanic. And each time the trouble has always been some simple thing anyone but Dad, me, or Regan could fix.”

  “Never mind,” Trixie said soothingly. “When you go to High, they’ll give you driving lessons and teach you the mystery of what makes a car run. Brian learned so much last year that he’ll be able to get a license when he’s sixteen in October.”

  “He’s lucky,” Jim said. “They didn’t give driving lessons at the school I went to upstate.” He sat between them on the glider. “Tell us about your brothers, Trixie. Honey and I can’t wait to meet them.”

  “Well,” Trixie began, “Mart is supposed to look so much like me that everyone thinks we’re twins, except that he’s a couple of inches taller. And actually, we are twins for the whole month of May.”

  “What do you mean?” Honey asked.

  Trixie laughed. “I’ll be fourteen next May first, and Mart won’t be fifteen until June first. We’re exactly eleven months apart. He and I and Bobby are blond like Mother, but Brian is dark like Dad. He has thick, wavy hair and black, black eyes, and he’s going to be a doctor, so he studies hard and is interested in anything that has to do with medicine.”

  “Gee, that’s swell,” Jim said enthusiastically. “Maybe, when I have my camp for boys, Brian will be the resident doctor.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful!” Honey cried excitedly. “And isn’t it marvelous that your dream of an outdoor school for orphan boys is going to come true, Jim? Why, you have enough money to start right now!”

  He chuckled. “Enough money, but not enough education. I won’t be ready to teach until about the same time Brian is ready to practice medicine. I want to get a Ph.D. first.” He turned to Trixie. “What’s Mart’s ambition, or like you, hasn’t he got any?”

  “I have so got an ambition,” Trixie told him, with a toss of her head. “It’s all settled. Honey and I are going to be private detectives, aren’t we, Honey?”

  Jim hooted with laughter. “And call your agency Moll Dicks, Incorporated, I suppose. I can just see your business cards,” he went on gaily. “ ‘When the FBI gives up, we take over,’ printed in red.”

  Honey and Trixie couldn’t help laughing, too. When they subsided, Trixie said, “You’ve got to admit that we were pretty smart about finding you, Jim Frayne.”

  “That you were,” he admitted. “Are you two really serious about being detectives?”

  “We’re working on a ca—” Honey began, and Trixie promptly was overcome by a fit of coughing. Just then Celia appeared to announce lunch.

  “Saved by a dinner bell,” Trixie told Honey as they groomed their horses after their evening ride. “Do you realize that you almost told Jim we were working on a case?”

  “I know,” Honey admitted shamefacedly. “But I do wish you’d let me tell him about that diamond.”

  Trixie led Lady into her stall and slipped off the halter. “Don’t mention a word of it to Jim,” she said. “We’ll solve the mystery ourselves, and then he won’t dare make fun of our ambition. Moll Dicks, Incorporated,” she sniffed. “Honestly, Jim is a worse tease than Mart.”

  “But he’s so smart,” Honey protested, giving Strawberry a good-night pat on the nose.

  “That’s right,” Trixie agreed. “But girls can be just as smart as boys, and there’s no reason why women detectives shouldn’t be even better than men. It’s a known fact that women notice little things more than men do.”

  “That’s true,” Honey admitted. “I’ll bet Jim couldn’t tell you what Mother was wearing at dinner.”

  “What was she wearing?” Trixie asked. “Let’s see how good you are.”

  “A long white linen gown with a bolero jacket and a wide green sash which matched her slippers and the ribbon in her hair,” Honey said. “She wore tiny coral cameo earrings and a ring from the same set.”

  “Here comes Jim, now,” Trixie whispered. “Let’s see how good he is.” When Jim came into the tack room, she said, “We’re playing a game, genius. Can you tell us what Mrs. Wheeler was wearing this evening before she and Mr. Wheeler left for the party?”

  Jim frowned. “She was wearing a dress,” he began.

  Trixie hooted. “That even I knew although I wasn’t here at the time. What else? What color? What jewelry?”

  Jim pretended to be very busy inspecting the throat latch of a bridle hanging on the wall. “A pale blue dress,” he said after a while. “A short blue dress with white shoes and no jewelry.”

  The girls hugged each other ecstatically, almost hysterical with laughter. “Great,” Trixie chortled. “Wonderful, my dear Sherlock. You’ll never get a driver’s license. You can’t see and you’re color blind.”

  “That’s right,” Honey added with a giggle. “Don’t ever call us Moll Dicks again.”

  “Phooey to you two,” Jim said cheerfully. “I’ll give you a real test. There’s a strange car parked by the garage, and the driver is standing beside it, talking to Regan. Go out and take a good look at the car and the driver and then come back and tell me what you saw. I’ll time you,” he said, pushing his cuff away from his wrist watch. “One minute!”

  The girls hurried to the stable door and stood there staring as hard as they could. Although it was almost nine, with daylight saving time in effect, it was still light enough to see everything very distinctly.

  “Time!” Jim yelled, and they came back to the tack room. “Sleuth Belden first,” he said, pointing to Trixie.

  “The car,” Trixie said, “is an old Buick.”

  “I think it’s a Packard,” Honey interrupted.

  Jim snorted. “It’s a Chrysler. Color, model, and year, please.”

  “It’s about ten years old,” Trixie said. “A black, four-door sedan.”

  Honey gasped. “Why, Trixie! It’s a dark-blue coupe.”

  “You’re both half-right,” Jim said with a superior smile. “Describe the driver.”

  “That’s easy,” Trixie said. “He’s tall and skinny and pale. Sort of weasel-ish.”

  Honey stared at her. “I didn’t get that impression at all. He’s tall, yes, but slender and very blond. Not pale and skinny. I thought he was very nice-looking.”

  “That’s good,” Jim said, “because I think he’s going to be our new chauffeur.”

  “My goodness,” Honey said smiling. “Celia is certainly a fast worker. I told her to ask around the village this afternoon and try to find someone who’d like the job. Do you think Regan will hire him, Jim?”

  “Regan,” Jim said, grinning, “loves him. Adores him. The mechanics Dad telephoned to come out and fix the sedan didn’t show up, and Regan was still fussing with the motor when the blond guy appeared on the scene. He fixed it in a matter of minutes. It positively purrs now. It and Regan are both purring.”

  “Then it’s as good as settled,” Honey said. “Thank goodness. Maybe, now that he won’t have to go near the garage except to climb the stairs to his room on top, Regan won’t make us groom the horses and clean the tack every single time. It gets tiresome.”

  “Lazy,” Jim teased. “And don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched. Even in the mood he’s in now, Regan was cautious enough to tell the guy he’d have to bring letters of recommendation tomorrow before Dad would hire him.”

  Honey giggled. “I know why Regan said that. He wants to get the man back, so he can give the Ford a going-over. He probably would have made him do it right now if Mother and Daddy hadn’t driven off in it. There’s something about the clutch that seems to baffle everyone.”

  “You rich people are so helpless,” Trixie said with a laugh. “We have an ancient Ford roadster and a station wagon. They don’t even baff
le Moms. She’s like Miss Trask—very handy with a bobby pin.”

  Jim set his jaw stubbornly. “I’m going to learn all about cars this fall even if I have to give up riding to do it.” He strode off.

  Honey sighed. “It really makes Jim mad when you call us rich people, Trixie. You shouldn’t do it. He wasn’t rich until this summer.”

  Trixie bit her lip. “I was only kidding. Neither of you acts like snobbish rich boys and girls I’ve known. I think Jim got mad because he thought I was insulting him when I said Moms was good with cars, implying that he isn’t.”

  Honey replaced the top on a can of saddle soap. “I don’t think he was really mad,” she said. “But he does hate the idea of being helpless about anything. He’s always been so independent and knows how to take care of himself anywhere, except when it comes to cars.”

  “I’m sorry,” Trixie said. “If only I could learn to think before I blurt out cute remarks which aren’t cute to anyone but me.”

  “Never mind,” Honey said consolingly. “Our new chauffeur will teach Jim everything in no time. Jim’s so smart he’ll learn very quickly. Why, just think, he’ll be barely sixteen when he goes to college next fall.”

  “I know,” Trixie said. “He must have skipped a grade somewhere along the line besides doing two years of High in one. Brian skipped the third grade; that’s why he’ll graduate next June, too.”

  Honey smiled. “You and I’ll be old ladies of eighteen when we get out of High.”

  “I may be older than that,” Trixie said mournfully. “I may never even get out of Junior High if the math is anything like Mart said it was last year. Dad had to help him with his homework a lot. And you should have heard Mart moan and groan. Dad would only explain the theory; he wouldn’t help him get the right answers.”

  “I’m counting on Miss Trask,” Honey said as they walked out of the stable, arm in arm. “Thank goodness she was a math instructor before she came to us.”

  “We’ve just got to be good in math if we’re going to be detectives,” Trixie said. “Brian says FBI men are all lawyers or certified public accountants. If we’re going to compete with CPA’s, we’ve got to be super mathematicians.”

  “We’re not starting out in a very super way,” Honey said, pointing toward the garage. “Look at our new chauffeur’s car. It’s neither black nor dark-blue. It’s a very dirty green. I’ll bet Jim could have rattled off the license number after one quick look.”

  “Your new chauffeur,” Trixie said thoughtfully, “certainly knows how to drive. Look at the way he’s backing and turning without even getting near the hollyhocks. Regan generally bruises a few when he does it.”

  They watched the car disappear down the driveway; then Regan called to them. “How do you like that?” he asked when they joined him. “A wizard under the hood and an expert behind the wheel. Do you think your dad will hire him, Honey? I could use a guy like that around here.”

  “I’m sure he will,” Honey said. “We were all talking about it at dinner this evening—how much we needed a chauffeur so you could spend all your time with the horses, Regan.”

  “We need a new gardener, too,” Regan said, narrowing his eyes. “Gallagher quit. Said somebody made off with his pruning saws and shovels.”

  “Oh, heavens,” Honey moaned. “We forgot and left them down at the cottage.”

  “What cottage?” Regan demanded suspiciously.

  “It used to be the gatehouse,” Honey explained, “when the old driveway circled down to Glen Road. Trixie and I were exploring it this morning.”

  “What next?” he asked wearily. “Exploring with pruning saws and shovels?”

  “We had to let in some light,” Trixie hastily explained. “So we cut away the vines from one window.”

  “Nothing surprises me any more,” Regan said with a slow grin. “And I suppose the shovels were used to dig up buried treasure?”

  “That’s right,” Trixie said quickly, grinning back at him. “We’d better go and get the tools right now, Honey.”

  “We certainly had,” Honey agreed. “We’re going to get an awful scolding from Miss Trask if Gallagher really quit. He was the only gardener she could find who had a car of his own, so he could drive himself back and forth.” She smiled sweetly at Regan. “Now that we’re going to have a chauffeur, I suppose that’s not important any more. He’ll have plenty of time to drive the help back and forth.”

  Regan guffawed. “He won’t have time for much else. What with a cook, a laundress, and three maids. The cook and Celia sleep in, but they’ve got to be toted in and out on their days off. And it seems to me that no sooner do the others arrive than it’s time to take ’em back.”

  “I know,” Honey cried sympathetically. “It’s been awfully hard for you and Miss Trask, Regan, with all the other things you have to do. But everything will be fine now that we’re going to have a chauffeur.”

  They said good night and hurried away toward the cottage. “I’m glad we’re poor,” Trixie said. “The servant problem would drive me mad. Miss Trask is going to be cross as anything if Gallagher quit, and I’m going to get the dickens for coming home after nine. All because of servants.”

  “You don’t have to help me bring the stuff back to the tool house,” Honey cried. “I can manage.”

  Trixie shook her head. “It’s beginning to grow dark, and I don’t think you should go down there by yourself.”

  Honey stopped short in amazement. “Why on earth not? Since when did you get so cautious, Trixie?”

  “I don’t want to scare you, Honey,” Trixie said thoughtfully. “But someone heard us talking this morning. Whoever was eavesdropping in the thicket knows that you have a valuable diamond in the secret compartment of your jewel case.” She hesitated. “He might—well, he might be lurking around, and he might get nasty. Especially, if he was the one who dropped it in the cottage.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake,” Honey exploded. “That’s exactly what I said to you this morning when you dashed off through the poison ivy after him. You weren’t afraid then.”

  “As usual,” Trixie said ruefully, “I didn’t stop to think. But I have been thinking about it lots since. I’m not afraid for myself, because I haven’t got the diamond. But I am afraid for you, Honey. You’ve just got to be awfully careful until we solve this mystery.”

  Chapter 4

  Telltale Footprints

  Honey shuddered. “We’re not even going to try to solve this mystery, Trixie Belden,” she said firmly. “If you, of all people, are scared, I’m going right back to the house and tell Jim everything.”

  “I’m not scared,” Trixie said, frowning. “And you have no reason to worry unless you go wandering off at dusk by yourself. You’re perfectly safe if you stay near the house. It’s filled with people going in and out all day and most of the evening. Come on. Let’s get the tools.”

  For answer, Honey turned around and started back up the lawn toward her house. “Neither of us is going down there,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “That cottage is too near the woods, and it’s getting dark and shadowy now.”

  “But how about the pruning saws and the shovels?” Trixie asked. “I’ll dash down and get them so Miss Trask won’t be too angry with us.”

  “Take one step and I’ll scream,” Honey said. “I mean it, Trixie. You may think I’m in danger, but so are you. Oh, I wish we’d never gone inside that horrid place and found that horrid diamond.”

  “Oh, all right,” Trixie said reluctantly. “We can get the stuff early tomorrow morning and bring it back to the tool house before Gallagher drives out from the village.”

  “If he shows up,” Honey said. “Oh, dear, if he’s really quit, Miss Trask will want to know why, and then I’ll have to tell her everything.”

  “You won’t have to tell her everything,” Trixie argued. “Please, please, Honey, let’s keep the diamond a secret for a little while longer. If we search the cottage carefully tomorrow morning, we might fi
nd some clues.”

  “I’m never going to put my foot inside it again and neither are you,” Honey said stubbornly.

  Trixie laughed. “Let’s be sensible, Honey. Let’s say a tramp stole the diamond and spent last night in the cottage. The diamond slipped out of a hole in his pocket, and he didn’t discover it was gone until he had traveled up the river for a few miles. When he came back to look for it, we were there, and he heard us talking about it. So now he knows we have it. He certainly isn’t going to keep on looking for it in the cottage.”

  “I guess not,” Honey admitted. “What will he do?”

  “My guess,” Trixie said, “is that he lurked around in the woods all day trying to figure out a way of getting into your house without being seen. He must realize by now that that is hopeless. So I think he may spend the night in the cottage and then go on his way north.” She shrugged. “What else can he do?”

  “Nothing,” Honey said. “He can’t very well come up to the house and knock on the door and demand that I give him something he stole.”

  “That’s right,” Trixie said. “He’s probably more afraid of us than we are of him. For all he knows, we may have turned the diamond over to the police by now. In fact,” she finished, “he must be afraid of that. He’s probably already gone and is miles away.”

  Honey sighed. “Then why did you scare me half to death a few minutes ago?”

  “Because,” Trixie said, “I hadn’t thought it through. Ever since lunch I’ve been trying to remember what we said after I first got the feeling that someone was watching us from the thicket. While we were grooming the horses, I finally remembered that it was after that when you told me where you had put the diamond. I got to worrying about you and stopped thinking.” She giggled. “I can’t seem to do two things at once. When I started to think again, I stopped worrying. Right now I’m not thinking, because I know I’m going to get an awful bawling out when I get home. Good night.” She scampered off down the path to the hollow.

  Trixie did receive a severe scolding when she arrived. “But, Moms,” she wailed, “vacation is almost over. Soon I’ll have to be in bed at nine. Can’t we change the rule so I can stay up at Honey’s later until school starts?”