Trixie peered through the gloom and layers of smoke that still drifted lazily toward the dark, open windows. She noticed that Di and Honey had each stripped a pillow of its case. They were busily flapping them, trying to clear the air.
Trixie thought she saw something else and switched on the light. In all the excitement, no one had remembered the lights until now.
Her heart missed a beat when she realized she had not been mistaken. For a moment, she was so shocked that she couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it.
As if it were a dream, she could hear the faint confusion of men’s voices as they shouted to each other from another part of the inn. Then several pairs of heavy feet pounded up the stairs toward them.
Trixie looked once more at the unmoving figure on the far side of the room. Its short hair was brown. It wore a man’s tan sports jacket with leather-patched elbows.
“Mart? Brian?” she said, her voice shaking. “Did someone come to help you? If not, who’s that man sitting at the desk?”
“Man? What man?” Mart demanded, spinning around to see.
The breathless Bob-Whites stared silently as Trixie ran across the room. She gently touched the motionless figure on the shoulder.
Horrified, they watched it topple sideways and collapse in a stiff heap on the floor.
“Quick!” Honey cried. “He’s probably suffering from smoke inhalation. Oh, Brian, you’ll have to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.” But when Brian reached the prone figure, he found out what Trixie had already discovered.
“I’m afraid,” he said slowly, “that mouth-to-mouth resuscitation won’t help him at all.”
Mart gasped. “You mean he’s—”
“I mean,” Brian answered, “that our friend here would be the last one to need it. You see, he’s nothing but a life-sized dummy.”
Phantom From die Past • 7
JIM LOOKED BEWILDERED. “I don’t believe it,” he said, bending down to see the dummy’s painted face. “It looks so lifelike.”
“It sure does,” Mart agreed, nudging it gently with the toe of his sooty sneaker. “You know, it seems to be one of those manikins you see in department stores. But what’s it doing here? And whose room is this, anyway?”
No one had a chance to answer him, however, for in the next moment, Miss Trask and her brother rushed into the room. They were followed by four of the hotel staff, all of whom were wearing the now-familiar pirate costumes.
Less than a minute later, two fire fighters hurried into the room and checked the damage.
Everyone listened as Brian explained what had happened. Then Mr. Trask said, “I owe you all a debt of thanks. If you hadn’t acted so quickly, there’s no telling what would have happened.“
“Yes,” one of the fire fighters said as they went out with the remains of the mattress. “A fire in a mattress may appear to be out but actually smolder and rekindle later. These young people did a very thorough job.”
Embarrassed at all the praise, the Bob-Whites couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“We were glad we could help,” Trixie said at last, “though when we saw the dummy—the manikin—sitting at that desk, we were shocked. We thought for a moment he was a real person.“
“A manikin?” Mr. Trask said, noticing it for the first time. “Well, I’m blessed! Where on earth did that come from?”
“It’s mine,” a quiet voice said from the doorway. “I—er—I use him in my work. His name is Clarence.” And sandy-haired Mr. Appleton, whom Trixie had last seen sitting at the captain’s table, hurried into the room.
He frowned when he saw the mattress on the floor. Then Trixie saw him shoot a worried glance toward a half-opened drawer in the desk.
Before he closed it hastily, Trixie caught a glimpse of spiky handwriting covering what looked like a pad of yellow paper.
“What happened here?” Mr. Appleton asked. “And how did you all get in? This door was locked when I left this afternoon.”
“It wasn’t locked when we got here,” Dan said slowly. “In fact, the whole incident is kind of strange.”
“What do you mean, ‘strange’?” Mr. Trask asked sharply.
“The fire started in the mattress,” Brian explained. “There’s no question about that. But the thing is, we think it was deliberately set.”
Miss Trask gasped. “Oh, Brian! Are you sure?“
“Of course the boy isn’t sure,” her brother boomed. “How could he be? Besides, who would want to do a thing like that?”
Trixie found her gaze wandering to Mr. Appleton. He was standing with his back to the desk, almost as if he wanted to hide whatever was inside it.
“I certainly hope none of you think I had anything to do with this,” he said loudly. “I haven’t been anywhere near the second floor for the last three hours.”
“Of course we don’t think anything of the kind,” Mr. Trask said.
All the same, Trixie thought Mr. Trask looked worried as he gave instructions to his staff to move Mr. Appleton to another room at once.
Miss Trask must have thought so, too. Only Trixie, who was standing next to her, saw her rest one hand on her brother’s arm. “Do you really think it was an accident, Frank?” she asked. “I was just downstairs talking to that dreadful waiter you call Weasel. He was telling me that there’s been a series of odd happenings all summer long—”
“Then you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Marge, my girl,” her brother interrupted. “I’m sure this was just one of those freak things. It could have happened to anyone. Maybe it was spontaneous combustion or something.”
It seemed to Trixie that Miss Trask was about to answer him sharply. Instead, she turned on her heel and hurried away.
“What was all that about, Trix?” Honey asked.
“I’m not sure,” Trixie whispered. “But for right now, I’m very glad we’re here. I have an idea that Miss Trask does need the Bob-Whites, Honey. I think there’s something going on here that we know nothing about.”
Mr. Appleton politely declined when first Mart, and then Jim, offered to help him move his belongings to his new room. “I can manage, thanks,” he said.
He opened his closet door and threw his clothes into a suitcase. Then, after retrieving whatever was in the desk, he casually picked up the dummy from the floor. He tucked it under his arm and wandered out of the room and along the passage.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Trixie was completely overcome by an attack of giggles. “I’ve never seen anything so funny in my life,” she gasped. “The dummy’s head stuck way out in front, its legs stuck way out in back, and its body was shoved under his arm like a sack of potatoes. At any moment, I expected Mr. Appleton to use C-Clarence as a b-battering ram.”
Her giggles were catching, and it wasn’t long before* they were all holding on to each other and shouting with laughter.
Di wiped her eyes. “It’s really great to see you happy again, Trix,” she said, smiling.
Trixie grinned. “And all that laughing has made me hungry. Jeepers, I’m starved!”
Jim looked ruefully at his soot-stained jeans. He sniffed at his shirt. “I hate to tell you this, gang, but I smell like a fugitive from a forest fire. I’ll have to take another shower before we eat.“
“I guess we all must smell pretty smoky, at that,” Mart said. “Therefore, I assume it’s back to the showers for all of us. In that case, we’d better meet downstairs when we’re ready.” He sighed. “And let’s hope that there’re going to be no more worrisome adventures between now and then, okay?”
He didn’t look in Trixie’s direction, but she knew he meant her. The last of her giggles subsided at once, and she bit her lip.
I seem to cause nothing but trouble for everyone, she thought. But, gleeps! I didn't start the fire. That wasn't my fault.
“Exactly what did you two girls expect to find at the bottom of that dumbwaiter shaft, anyway?” Brian asked.
“I daresay Trixie was looking fo
r Captain Trask’s secret exit,” Jim answered, smiling at her. “And I, for one, think it was a good idea.” Everyone knew that since Trixie had rescued Jim from his cruel stepfather, she could do no wrong as far as he was concerned.
“I hate to shatter your illusions,” Mart drawled, “but I beg to differ. It was a bad idea. Figure it out for yourself. The soldiers enter the room. They’re going to arrest the captain. Are you trying to tell me that from that point on, they hang back and do nothing while their prospective arrestee strolls over to a wall somewhere and disappears into the woodwork? If they had seen him do that, why didn’t they follow him?”
Trixie gritted her teeth with frustration. She knew that Mart was right. It was the same argument she had used when she had been thinking of searching for a trapdoor.
She knew now that she had been too impulsive—too willing to grab the first idea that popped into her head. When would she ever learn?
“Maybe the soldiers didn’t follow Captain Trask because they didn’t see where he went,” she answered slowly.
“Weak,” Mart said, shaking his head, “very weak, Sherlock. The table’s in the middle of the room, remember? How could they have not seen him? No, you’ll have to do better than that, me hearty. Come on, Brian, I’ll race you to the shower.”
When everyone had gone, Trixie couldn’t resist glancing around Mr. Appleton’s room for one last look. Her puzzled gaze lingered on the charred mattress on the floor.
Had someone deliberately set fire to it? And had that someone been Mr. Appleton himself? It was entirely possible. After all, he had a key to the room. By why would he have done such a thing? Why would anyone?
Trixie sighed and turned to leave. As she turned, she noticed a small crumpled sheet of white paper that lay at her feet. She bent down and picked it up, then gasped as she smoothed it out and read:
BEWARE!
YOUR EVERY MOVE
IS BEING WATCHED!
“But what does it mean?” Honey cried moments later, when she and Trixie were sitting on her bed. “Is the note really meant for you, Trix? Or does it belong to Mr. Appleton?”
Trixie stared once more at the slip of paper in her hand. “I don’t know, Honey,” she replied. “And I don’t know what to do about it, either.“
“Maybe,” Honey said slowly, “the best thing to do is just to keep our eyes and ears open. Surely we’ll soon know if anyone is watching.”
Trixie shivered and glanced quickly around the room. For the first time, she wondered if there was a secret passage somewhere in these walls, too.
She still hadn’t made up her mind about it when, showered and changed once more, she stood in front of the small mirror that hung over the dressing table. Her attention slowly shifted to the unfamiliar clothes reflected in the mirror.
At the urging of Di and Honey, she had been persuaded to wear a crisp white blouse and a pretty blue skirt for the coming celebration.
“Gleeps, Honey!” she exclaimed, dragging a comb through her unruly damp curls. “You know how I hate wearing stuff like this. If Moms hadn’t insisted, I wouldn’t even have packed these things.”
She twirled around in the center of the room until her skirt stood straight out from her waist.
“I think you always look very nice in whatever you wear,” Honey said loyally. She looked very attractive herself in her pale green dress.
Trixie made one last face at her reflection. “Is Di ready?” she asked. “If so, we can go straight to the dining room and be there before the boys. They’re always complaining that they have to wait for us.”
But when they poked their heads into Di’s room, she was not ready at all. “You go on,” she said, “and I’ll be with you before you know it.” She paused. “You know, you two are the only ones who haven’t even been outside since we arrived. You’ve still got time to take a quick look around. You should take your jackets, though. I think the fog’s really starting to roll in now.“
“That’s a great idea,” Trixie told Honey. “That way we can see if anyone follows us.”
All the way down the stairs, Trixie had the feeling that someone’s gaze was boring into her back. Twice she turned sharply, but there was no one in sight.
“I’m sure it’s your imagination working overtime,” Honey said.
Suddenly her grip tightened on Trixie’s arm as a man’s dim figure, dressed in a pirate costume, seemed to materialize in the front lobby. Quietly, almost surreptitiously, he closed a dark door behind him. Then he walked swiftly on the balls of his feet toward the dining room.
Trixie thought it was their long-faced waiter, Weasel Willis, though she couldn’t be sure. And in another moment, she had forgotten the incident; she and Honey had stepped outside the front door.
Di had been right. The fog was beginning to roll in. Already it had blotted out the long stretch of grass between the inn and the cliff’s edge.
Trixie shivered and pulled her Bob-White jacket tightly around her shoulders. Honey had made and embroidered jackets for all of them. Cross-stitched across the back of each were the letters B.W.G., which,.of course, stood for Bob-Whites of the Glen.
“You stay right here and watch, Honey,” Trixie whispered. “I’m going to walk to the clifftop and back. In that way, we’ll soon know if anyone’s following me.”
Honey nodded as Trixie disappeared into the fog. “Trix?” she called at last. “Are you still there? I can’t see a thing.”
There was no answer.
“Trixie?” Honey’s voice faltered. “Where are you?”
Timidly, she began walking toward the point where she had last seen her friend. All at once, she caught her breath. Trixie was standing on the edge of the cliff. She was staring down at something that lay beneath it.
Momentarily speechless, Trixie pointed with a trembling hand. Honey stared.
Bathed in an eerie glow, its masts reaching high through the mist, was a ship. It floated silently at anchor, its sails furled. Flying from its stern was a flag that Honey strained to see.
Suddenly she clutched Trixie’s arm. “Why,” she cried, “the ship is a galleon, and it’s flying the skull and crossbones! Oh, Trixie! Where did it come from, and why is it gleaming all over with that funny light?”
Then she read the glowing name painted on its bow—and it answered all her questions.
It was the Sea Fox!
A Second Disappearance ● 8
REMEMBER THE LEGEND, Honey?” Trixie said at last. “The ghostly galleon is supposed to appear when disaster is about to strike the Trasks.“
“B-But you didn’t believe the story was t-true,” Honey wailed, her teeth chattering.
“I know,” Trixie answered, “and I still think there must be a logical explanation.”
“Then what is it?” Honey cried. “Oh, Trix! Let’s go inside. Perhaps we ought to warn Miss Trask that something awful is about to happen.” Trixie wasn’t listening. Her gaze was fixed on the ship below, as if she would imprint its image on her mind forever.
She was beginning to wonder if she would see the ghastly specters of its crew come racing on deck in answer to a shouted order. Would the men then leap to the rigging and swarm up it like surefooted monkeys in a jungle’s treetops?
She waited, her heart hammering against her ribs, but nothing happened. The ship appeared to be deserted.
Slowly her eyes were becoming accustomed to the ghostly light that seemed to surround the galleon. Now she could see the closed ports. She imagined the row of cannons that were probably battened down behind them.
She saw the shapely figurehead that adorned the ship’s bow. The woman’s graceful form appeared to be standing almost upright against the bow and was positioned just below the level of the deck.
Trixie strained to see her face and was somehow pleased when she noticed that the lady was smiling. She turned to remark on it to Honey, but the words died in her throat.
Honey was smothering a scream. In the next instant, she had clutched her fri
end with both hands.
Trixie turned to look. The galleon had vanished!
“But that’s impossible!” she cried. “What happened, Honey?”
“I don’t know!” Honey moaned. “One moment it was there, and the next it was gone. It didn’t fade away or anything.”
Trixie’s mouth was set in a stubborn line. “I’m going down there,” she said, “and I’m going to see for myself. A ship can’t just vanish without leaving some sort of clue. It’s impossible!”
“Oh, Trixie, please don’t,” Honey cried frantically. “I’m scared, and we did promise the boys we wouldn’t wander off without them.”
Trixie didn’t remember promising anything of the sort, but she could feel Honey trembling.
“Oh, all right,” she said reluctantly, allowing herself to be drawn away from the cliff’s edge. “Just the same, I wish I had a flashlight—”
“The boys will never believe what we saw,” Honey broke in. “In fact, no one will believe us. And what should we tell Miss Trask?”
“For the moment,” Trixie said, as she hurried toward the front door, “let’s not tell her anything. Our story would only worry her. Besides, nothing is going to happen tonight. I’m sure of it.”
But she wouldn’t have been quite so certain if she had seen a pirate’s dim figure detach itself from the shadows behind them.
For a long moment, it stared after them. Then it chuckled softly.
By the time the boys arrived downstairs, the girls were already seated at the captain’s table, their eyes sparkling.
In spite of her recent fright, even Honey was feeling excited. For once, the dark oak surface in front of them had been covered with a snowy white tablecloth. Polished silver had been set at each place, and, in a low bowl in the table’s center, bronze chrysanthemums nodded their shaggy heads as the boys slipped into their chairs.
“Gleeps, you guys,” Trixie said, pretending to smother a yawn, “we’d just about given you up. We’ve been waiting here for simply ages. What took you so long?”
The Mystery of the Ghostly Galeon Page 5
