The Gatehouse Mystery Read online

  “But your jobs,” Trixie said. “I thought camp didn’t close until tomorrow.”

  “It doesn’t,” Brian told her. “But the nursery group left yesterday afternoon. With the small fry gone, there wasn’t anything for us to do but pack up the things they left behind.” He sighed. “Our little charges were all about Bobby’s age, so you can imagine the junk they collected.”

  “By the time we finished cleaning the cabins,” Mart added, “we decided that we’d never be junior counselors again. Our boss took pity on us; and, since he had to drive through Sleepyside on his way home, he dropped us off here last night.”

  “Boy, am I ever glad to see you two,” Jim said enthusiastically. “Maybe you can talk your wacky sister into turning the diamond she and Honey found over to the police.”

  “Wacky, yes,” blond Mart jeered, “but the finder of diamonds, no. When her imagination gets going, a piece of coal becomes a priceless ruby overnight.”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” Brian agreed. “When you’ve known Trixie as long as we have, Jim, you’ll stop listening to her tall tales.”

  “I’m beginning to catch on,” Jim said, grinning. “Last night she heard a mysterious prowler, whom nobody else heard, and she suspects our new chauffeur and gardener.”

  “A man or a mouse,” Mart said, shaking his head, “it makes no diff to Trixie. They’re all crooks if they so much as poke their noses out of their lairs after dark.”

  “Is that so?” Trixie demanded. “Mice don’t live in lairs, smarty. We did so find a valuable diamond. Wait until you see it.”

  Just then Honey appeared at the top of the path. “Trixie! Jim!” she yelled as she raced down the hill. When she caught sight of Brian and Mart she skidded to a stop and added shyly, “Oh, your brothers came home from camp sooner than they expected.”

  “That’s right,” Trixie said. “The one on my left with the funny-looking crew cut is Mart. The other odd-looking creature is Brian. I hate them both at the moment. They don’t believe we found a real diamond, Honey.”

  Honey shook hands with the boys, smiling. “But it is a real diamond,” she told them. “You can see for yourselves. I brought it with me.” She reached into the pocket of her shorts and brought out the stone. The facets glittered in the early morning sunlight as she handed it to Brian.

  “Holy cow,” Mart gasped. “I asked for bread and she gave me cake. Where on earth did you find it?”

  “That’s not so important, now,” Honey said soberly, “as where we’re going to hide it. I don’t dare keep it in my jewelry box any longer.”

  “Why not?” Trixie asked. “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing’s happened,” Honey said. “Not yet. But when I woke up this morning, I remembered what you’d said yesterday that gave me goose pimples. You said that Nailor might be one of the gang that stole the diamond. Why, Trixie, if he is, he could have sneaked into my room last night when we were asleep and taken it. The jewel box, I mean. If he knew the diamond was in it, it wouldn’t take him long to find the secret compartment.”

  “Wait a minute, puh-leeze,” Mart interrupted. “You’re moving too fast for me. Let’s start with where you found the diamond and then decide where we’re going to hide it.”

  “Oh,” Trixie cried excitedly, “then you don’t think we ought to turn it over to the police?”

  “Not me,” Mart said, arching his sandy eyebrows. “If there’s a mystery lying around loose waiting to be solved, I want a crack at it before the experts take over.”

  “How about you, Brian?” Trixie asked her older brother.

  “We-ell,” he said thoughtfully. “When I know more about it, I might feel the way Mart does. We were going to have a swim before breakfast, but I guess that can wait.” He stretched out in the long grass by the chicken coop. “Let’s hear it, Trixie. And don’t exaggerate any more than you have to.”

  Chapter 7

  A Black Eye

  Trixie perched on a big rock, and the others sprawled in the grass around it. She told the story from beginning to end.

  “Oh, Trixie,” Honey gasped. “Then Nailor did try to sneak into my room last night?”

  “Nailor or Dick,” Trixie said. “I frankly suspect Dick. Bobby told him which windows were yours.”

  “Are you sure you heard someone last night?” Jim asked. “Sure you weren’t dreaming?”

  “I’m positive,” Trixie said. “When a door handle is turned it makes a special sort of grating sound. And when I dashed out into the hall I saw enough to be sure that someone had just disappeared around the corner where the back stairs are.”

  “What did you see?” Mart asked.

  “I don’t know how to explain it,” Trixie admitted. “But there was something there, and half a second later, it wasn’t. It might have been part of a man’s jacket or bathrobe. But it was something, all right.”

  “Too bad you and Jim didn’t check to see if the back door was unlatched when you were in the kitchen last night,” Brian said. “Now it’s too late, I guess. Too many people have already gone in and out of the house by now.”

  “That’s right,” Jim said. “It would be hard to find out who first opened the back door this morning, and even if we did, he probably wouldn’t remember whether the latch was hooked or not.” He turned to Trixie. “I’ll go along with you, although I don’t suspect either Dick or Nailor. Let’s try to catch the prowler ourselves.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” Trixie cried. “He should walk into our trap tonight. If only I’d stayed awake last night, we’d know now who he is.”

  “The first step,” Jim said, “is for Honey to switch rooms with me. You can be sure I won’t yell if anyone sneaks in. I’ll keep a flashlight handy and catch him red-handed.”

  “But suppose he has a gun?” Honey protested. “Oh, Jim!”

  “I’m not worried about that,” Jim said. “If he had a gun, he would have used it last night. What excuse can we give Miss Trask for wanting to swap rooms?”

  “I know,” Trixie cried. “One of Honey’s windows faces east and the sun wakes her up at the crack of dawn. That’s why she wants to swap.”

  “Pretty flimsy, pretty flimsy,” Brian said, “but if Miss Trask is the good sport you all say she is, you’ll probably get by with it.”

  Honey nodded. “She’s like Regan. Neither of them asks a lot of bothersome questions.”

  “They’re both too busy minding their own business,” Jim added.

  “Dick,” Trixie put in thoughtfully, “is supposed to be busy, too, but he spends a lot of time making friends with Bobby and the dogs. That’s suspicious, if you ask me.”

  Jim frowned. “I’d agree with you if I hadn’t seen the letter of recommendation from Mr. Whitney, who is one of Dad’s best friends.”

  “And he’s so very good-looking,” Honey said. “Dick, I mean. People who steal diamonds and lurk around in thickets eavesdropping don’t look like that.”

  Trixie sniffed. “How do you know they don’t? Besides, Dick isn’t nice-looking. He’s mean. His lips are too thin, and his eyes are too close together.”

  Mart laughed. “You girls are wacky. Didn’t you ever hear the old saying about not judging a book by its cover? Whether he’s handsome or looks like Dracula has nothing to do with the case.”

  “Trixie’s right about one thing,” Jim said. “I guess I should say Bobby is right. Dick is afraid of horses. When I came back from a ride on Jupe yesterday afternoon, Miss Trask called me in to the phone. I asked Dick to hold Jupe while I answered it, and he flatly refused. He said, ‘You couldn’t pay me to go near that rearing, prancing brute.’ ”

  “He might have said that just because he doesn’t do favors for anyone except Bobby,” Trixie said. “Honestly, I was furious when he stood there grinning yesterday while I picked up the broken glass.”

  “That was horrid of him,” Honey cried impulsively. “When Daddy hears about it, Dick will be fired.”

  “Don’t be a tattle
tale on account of me,” Trixie said. “Anyway, I don’t think he’ll be here when your father comes back.”

  “Why not?” Brian demanded.

  “Because,” Trixie said with a superior smile, “I’m sure he’s our prowler. Jim will catch him tonight.”

  Brian shook his head. “A woman convinced against her will is of the same opinion still,” he chanted. “Just because Bobby said he showed Dick Honey’s windows doesn’t mean a thing. Bobby’s reports are generally garbled to death.”

  “That’s not the only thing that makes me suspicious,” Trixie said. “Come on, let’s take a quick swim in the lake. It must be almost time for breakfast.” She started up the path and they all raced after her.

  The girls were wearing denim shorts and halters so they didn’t bother to change into swim suits. Honey had to stop long enough in the boathouse to get a cap to pull on over her shoulder-length bob. She was the last one in.

  “Boy! Can she swim and dive,” Mart whispered to Trixie as they lay on their backs, floating. “She could give us all lessons.”

  “Honey,” Trixie said, “learned how to swim and ride at camps and boarding schools. She hardly knew her parents until this summer. That’s why she had governesses. Miss Trask was the math instructor at the last school Honey went to. And,” she added enviously, “Honey has already had some algebra. They taught it in the seventh grade. She’ll probably get much better marks than I will.”

  “Oh, you’ll be okay,” Mart said affectionately. “It kills me to admit it, Trix, but you’re really smart at times. What other reason makes you suspect Dick?”

  “Let’s go back to the boathouse and get dry in the sun,” Trixie said. “I’ll tell you, then.”

  When they were stretched out on the hot boards of the porch, she explained. “Dick was very disappointed when he heard he wasn’t going to sleep in the house. He was mad when Miss Trask told him he was to share Regan’s suite over the garage. He was so mad,” she finished, “that he was rude to Regan. All Regan did was offer to help him carry up his suitcase, and Dick snarled and grabbed it away from him.”

  Mart rolled over on his stomach. “Aha, the plot thickens. Maybe there was a time bomb in his suitcase.”

  Trixie glanced at him swiftly and saw that he was laughing. “Oh, all right, make fun of me,” she said crossly. “But I know Dick wanted to sleep in the house. That would have made it easier for him to swipe the diamond. This way, he has no excuse for ever going beyond the servants’ dining-room next to the kitchen. But, if he had a room on the third floor, he—” She stopped, for Miss Trask was coming down the path to the lake.

  “Good morning, Trixie,” she said with a smile. “Your mother just phoned and told me your brothers came home last night. She wanted you to hurry home for breakfast, but I persuaded her to let you all have pancakes and sausages down here at the boathouse.”

  Mart and Trixie scrambled to their feet, and Trixie introduced him to Miss Trask. “Brian,” she said, “is the tall, dark boy on the raft with Honey and Jim.” She cupped her hands and yelled across the water. “Brian! Come back and meet Miss Trask. We’re invited for breakfast.”

  Celia and one of the other maids brought trays of delicious food down to the boathouse, and in a few minutes they were all gathered around the rustic table on the sunny porch.

  “This is the life,” Mart said, buttering his fifth pancake. “At camp we were so busy seeing that our small fry didn’t drown in the maple syrup, we didn’t have time to eat ourselves.”

  “You look starved,” Trixie said with a sniff. “You’ve both grown inches and gained tons.”

  “You haven’t done so badly yourself,” Brian said with a laugh. He turned to Jim. “Say, I think the boys’ outdoor school you were telling me about is a great idea. Can I sign up now for the job of resident doctor?”

  Jim nodded, grinning. “How about you, Mart? You like small fry. Will you be the kindergarten teacher at my school for underprivileged boys?”

  “Thank you, no,” Mart said with an elaborate bow. “One summer with that age group was enough for me. Next year I’m going to work on a farm. I plan to go to agricultural college when I get out of high school, you know.”

  “Swell,” Jim said. “Part of the curriculum at my school will be farming. You can be in charge of that department.”

  “That, I accept,” Mart said. “What about the girls? Trixie loves housework,” he said sarcastically. “She’ll be a big help. What she misses with a dust cloth would clog a vacuum hose.”

  “Is that so?” Trixie demanded. “I’ll have you know that Honey and I did all the cooking on our trailer trip, and kept the Swan tidy, too.”

  “Well, sort of tidy,” Honey said with a giggle. “Anyway, we’re going to be detectives, Trixie and I.”

  Brian and Mart howled with laughter. “That does it,” Brian said. “No matter what we do next summer, Mart, we’ll have to take Trixie with us. Without us around, she goes completely off her rocker.”

  Trixie tossed her short, blond curls. “You and Jim,” she told them, “are just too, too funny. Wait and see. We’ll find out who dropped the diamond in the cottage long before you do.”

  “How do you know it was dropped?” Brian asked.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Trixie gasped. “You don’t think somebody deliberately buried it in the floor, do you? I got over the silly idea of looking for buried treasure in the cottage ages ago.”

  Honey told them then about the heelprints and the tire treadmarks they had found. “Trixie is really very smart about clues,” she finished seriously.

  “Let’s all go have a look at those clues,” Brian said. “But we’d better first change into shirts and dungarees on account of poison ivy.”

  “Once I go home, I’m stuck for hours,” Trixie said mournfully. “There are about a thousand chores waiting for me. But Honey will show you what we found.” She gathered up some of the dishes and led the way up the path.

  After they had returned the trays to the kitchen, the Beldens cut across the driveway on their way home. Jim and Honey had stayed in the house to arrange with Miss Trask about swapping rooms for a while.

  As Trixie passed the garage, she saw Dick lounging in the entrance. She stared at him with surprise. One of his eyes was black and blue and rapidly closing. His lips were puffy and sore-looking.

  “What on earth happened to you?” she asked, without thinking. “Did you fall out of bed or something, Dick?”

  “No, I didn’t,” he said sourly. “I was just trying to be helpful. Had a little extra time this morning, so I thought I’d give Regan a hand with the horses.”

  “How could you give him a hand?” Trixie demanded. “He left last night for his day off and won’t be back until this evening.”

  “That’s just what I mean,” Dick snapped at her. “He’s not here to groom the horses, so I thought I’d do them for him. The big black gelding kicked me. He ought to be shot.”

  Trixie could not suppress a laugh. “You should have better sense than to fool around with horses when you don’t like them. Besides, Jupe didn’t need a grooming. Jim rode him yesterday, and he never puts a horse away without brushing it and cleaning its hoofs and everything.”

  Brian nudged her. “You might introduce us, Sis.”

  “Oh,” Trixie cried, embarrassed. “Dick, these are my brothers, Brian and Mart.”

  “Hi,” the new chauffeur said coolly. “Hope you have better manners than your fresh sister.”

  Out of the corner of one eye, Trixie saw that Brian and Mart were furious; but they said nothing. Once they were out of earshot, however, Mart exploded. “Say, that guy has a nerve, calling you fresh, Trix. I’ve a good mind to take a poke at him.”

  “Trixie was fresh,” Brian said easily. “But I’d just as soon black the guy’s other eye for him.”

  “That’s it,” Trixie cried excitedly. “Dick was in a fight. Jupe never kicked him. If he had, the chauffeur would have a broken nose and no front teeth.�
��

  Mart nodded. “You’ve got something there, Trix. But who did the job on his face, do you suppose?”

  “I can’t imagine,” Trixie said. “Regan has a red-hot temper, and I don’t think he likes Dick much, but he left for his day off right after supper last night. Maybe the new gardener and Dick got into an argument.”

  “The one you said looks like a little monkey?” Brian asked. “If he blacked Dick’s eye he must look more like a gorilla.”

  Trixie giggled. “You’re right; Nailor couldn’t possibly have beaten Dick up. He’s so shriveled Honey thinks of him as a giant peanut. Nailor’s even older than Gallagher, and he was positively ancient.”

  They had reached the chicken coop down in the hollow, and Trixie darted inside to see if there were any eggs. “Not a one,” she said. “The hens are molting. And thank goodness, as of now, the chickens are your chore, Mart.”

  “Okay,” he said cheerfully. “I like our feathered friends a lot better than I do the pre-school-agers. Gleeps, Trix! I must have made five million bread and butter and peanut butter sandwiches this summer.”

  “Speaking of which,” Brian interrupted. “It’s an old joke that when a boy comes home with a black eye, he always tells his father, ‘You ought to see the other fellow.’ Maybe we ought to look around for the gardener’s body.”

  “Nailor,” Trixie said, “is very much alive. I saw him mowing the lawn down by the cottage a little while ago.”

  “There’s another old joke,” Mart said thoughtfully. “When a guy appears with a shiner, he’s supposed to say he got it bumping into a door in the dark. How do you like that one, Trix?”

  “I see what you mean,” she said, narrowing her blue eyes. “Maybe Dick left the house in such a hurry last night that the swinging door to the kitchen gave him that black eye.” She shuddered reminiscently. “It was pitch dark in there. Even if he didn’t bang into the door, he might have stumbled over a chair and bruised his face against the sink.”

  “Wouldn’t you have heard such a commotion?” Brian asked. “You or Jim or Miss Trask?”