The Indian Burial Ground Mystery (12 page)

“I can’t believe it,”
muttered a graduate student after Trixie had explained the events of the night
before. “If that doesn’t beat everything I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what
does!” The Bob-Whites were seated under the shade trees around the edge of the dig
site. The late-afternoon sun shimmered on the meadow. But the usual feeling of
busy activity was gone. Now the students just sat around, looking disheartened.
They listened as Trixie told about the morning she’d spent at the Sleepyside
police station.

“And not only that,” Trixie added proudly, “it turns out that Kemp and
Professor Conroy are the ones who committed all the other burglaries in the
area, too.”

“The thing I can’t figure out,” Brian said thoughtfully, “is how you
knew the professor would come back to the Manor House last night.”

“That was the easy part,” Trixie answered. “I figured that after Honey
told him that she had to leave the dig because she and Miss Trask were going to
Europe
, he’d figure that he and Harry could
rob the Manor House in complete safety. And I had a feeling they’d act quickly,
too.”

“What I find amazing,” Charles said, “is that Conroy wasn’t an
archaeologist at all!”

“He just wished he was one,” muttered another student. “What incredible
nerve!”

“Well, he was pretty good,” Charles admitted. “He sure had us fooled.”

There was a low undercurrent of grumbling as the students thought about
how easy they’d been to fool.

“I can’t believe how much trouble Conroy went to, just to get money for
archaeological research,” Mart said wonderingly.

“Sometimes the urge to be an archaeologist can be overpowering,” Charles
said with a sad smile at Trixie. Trixie smiled back. She understood what
Charles meant.

“He pretended to be a friend of the family, too,” Honey said. “And he
wasn’t even a friend of Professor Ingles.”

“Conroy was just a clerk in the archaeology department at
Oxford
University
,”
Trixie explained. “He took the job so he could get
Oxford
stationery, which he used to write
phony letters of recommendation from Professor Ingles.”

“He knew how hard it would be for the Wheelers to get verification from
Ingles,” Charles explained. “Remember, Ingles was in the
Sudan
, and very
hard to get hold of—even in an emergency.”

The young people sat in silence for a while, digesting the amazing events
of the past day. Charles Miller looked around the dig site mournfully.

“And did you hear what Conroy said down at the police station?” he said.
“He thinks he knows where the lost continent of Atlantis is located.”

“What’s that?” asked Di.

“Atlantis was a great, ancient civilization,” Brian said. “We know about
it only through the writings of Plato. It was supposedly destroyed by an
earthquake, and then sank into the sea. Many people believe that Atlantis was a
perfect democracy. Conroy believed that it was also a very wealthy land, but no
one in academic circles would help him finance an expedition. So he got the
money another way—by stealing it.”

“I’m not a bit surprised,” Charles said. “Who would spend all that money
on a madman’s dream? Of course, he could have made it all back—and plenty
more—if he’d actually found some treasure.”

“It sounds as if he thought he was Heinrich Schliemann,” Brian said.

“That’s true,” said Charles. “Schliemann had absolutely no credentials
as an archaeologist. All he had was a lot of money, and a good idea about where
the ancient city of
Troy
was located. Academics thought Schliemann was a fool because he based his
research on ancient legends, not on archaeological evidence. But he found
Troy
and really cleaned
up!”

“If Heinrich Schliemann could do it,” Honey said, “why couldn’t Conroy?
No one believed Schliemann, either.”

“In a way, it’s too bad he didn’t get funding,” Charles said
thoughtfully. “It would have been fantastic to go on an underwater
excavation—even if we never found Atlantis!”

“Now we should have a discussion about the lack of funding for worthy
research,” said a graduate student. “That’s always good for a few laughs.”

“You know what Mark Twain said,” Mart explained. “ ‘Rich or poor, it’s
good to have money’!”

“What about the ghost?” Di asked. “What was that all about?”

Trixie and Charles exchanged knowing glances.

“A ghost?” Mart said. “How could you forget to mention a thing like
that, Trixie?” Trixie pouted. She knew Mart was teasing her about ghosts. “Oh,
it was nothing. The night of the burglary, Charles was running around in the
woods wearing a funny costume. He thought he could scare us. Hah!”

“It was a practical joke,” Charles said, looking embarrassed.

“I knew there couldn’t be a ghost,” Trixie said as nonchalantly as she
could. “So I decided not even to mention the incident.”

“Not a ghost!” Di gasped. “I thought I was going to faint!”

“I wasn’t scared at all,” Trixie said smugly.

Honey coughed loudly, trying to cover her laughter.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Dan said. “How did Conroy manage
to attend a burglary if he was in the hospital with a concussion?”

“Easy,” Trixie said. “He faked the concussion. It’s not so hard to do.
The doctors kept him under observation for ten days, but that didn’t keep him
from climbing out the window after the last nurse check. They found the rope in
his room.

“Harry would wait for him down below, and then bring him back to the
hospital very early in the morning. He’d spend the rest of the day looking pale
and sick. It was the perfect cover.”

“Who wouldn’t look pale and sick after being out all night!” Di joked.

“It was a clever cover,” Brian admitted.

“And you know what?” Trixie added. “I bet they were planning to set
Charles up, just in case the police got too close.”

“Those beasts!” Honey exclaimed. “They were trying to make it look as if
Charles were the burglar. How awful.”

“Thank goodness it’s all over,” Di said. “What a week!”

“And what a day! We’d better get back home,” Brian said, standing up.
“It’s getting late.”

“We have to start packing up,” said a student. “The dig is obviously
over.”

“Yeah,” another student said glumly. “The dig is over, but the summer
isn’t. We won’t be able to get any other jobs, and we won’t get any course
credit, either.”

“What bad luck,” Charles said. “The summer is ruined, and all because I
answered a fantastic-sounding ad on the bulletin board at school.”

“Maybe not,” Di put in hopefully. “You never know. Maybe things will
work out.”

“I don’t see how they could,” he replied sadly.

“Charles, why don’t you pack later,” Brian said, patting his friend on
the shoulder. “Moms wants you to come back and have dinner with us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles said. “I’d like that.”

“Wait till you taste Mrs. Belden’s wonderful cooking,” Honey said. She
had also been invited for dinner.

“Great,” said Charles. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long
time.”

The Bob-Whites and Charles said good-bye to the students, and walked
down the road leading out of the dig site. Trixie could see that Charles was
upset. She wished there was some way to help him.

For dinner, Mrs. Belden made her special hamburgers, potato casserole,
and a big tossed salad with avocado dressing. There was strawberry shortcake
for dessert.

Everyone was seated around the big
diningroom
table when Mr. Belden came in the front door.

“Hey, Dad,” Mart said, reaching for a platter, “you made it in the nick
of time. We were about to eat everything up. You know us!”

“I know
you
, you mean,” Mr. Belden said with a fond smile
at his exuberant and ever-hungry son.

“How was your day, dear?” Mrs. Belden said

as she took his jacket and his briefcase. “Sit down and tell us about
it.”

“I have a nice surprise,” Mr. Belden said with a wide grin, “but I want
you young people to tell me about your day first. I gather it was pretty
exciting.”

Trixie told him all about their morning at the police station, and
everything that Sergeant
Molinson
had found out about
Professor Conroy. There was so much to say, she hardly touched the food on her
plate.

“And they found the Renoir in Professor Conroy’s tent,” she continued at
breakneck speed, “and they traced the rest to a warehouse in
Brooklyn
.
It was full of all the things they’d stolen.”

“That’s right,” Brian put in. “Also, Harry Kemp had found out about a
hidden cache of gold that Charles was looking for. He was probably planning to
steal it from Charles, if he ever found it.”

“By the way,” Charles said, “did they ever find Edward Palmer’s diary?”

“They sure did,” answered Brian. “It’s back in the archive room, safe
and sound.”

“But where was it?” asked Honey.

“Harry Kemp had it,” Trixie said. “Apparently Charles told Harry that
he’d found the diary with the map in the archive room.”

“I had to,” interrupted Charles. “He was pestering me day and night to get
hold of that diary.”

“Anyway, Harry wanted to see the treasure map for himself,” Trixie
continued. “That afternoon when Charles was busy at the dig, Harry went to the
Historical Society. Jake Hanson told him that I was there, so Harry decided to
wait in his car for me to leave. I guess he didn’t want me to know he was
interested in buried treasure. Harry saw me leave, all right, but I saw him,
too.”

“But I still don’t understand why he took the book,” Brian said. “After
all, he’d made a copy of the map for himself. He didn’t need to steal the book,
too.”

“That was just an accident,” Trixie said. “After I was gone, Harry went
down, found the book, and copied the map on his yellow pad. When he heard Honey
and me clattering down the stairs, he panicked. The only way for him to leave
the room without being seen was through the window.”

“I get it,” Brian said. “And as an afterthought—just to keep you and
Honey from getting a copy of the map, too—he stole the book.”

“Right,” answered Trixie. “But he made one mistake. He forgot to take
his yellow pad. That’s how I managed to make a pencil rubbing of the treasure
map.”

“Oh, dear,” sighed Mrs. Belden. “So many people think there’s gold
hidden around this neck of the woods. I’ve always wondered where they get the
idea that hidden gold would stay hidden for very long at the rate people look
for it.”

Charles turned beet red, and looked down at his plate.

“I think you have to live around here,” Brian said, seeing his friend’s
embarrassment, “to know how impossible finding gold really is.”

“I bet Professor Conroy and Harry
would
have stolen the
gold from Charles—that is, if he ever found it,” Trixie said.

“You’re probably right,” Honey added. “Well,” Mr. Belden said, clearing
his throat, “I think it’s time for me to tell you what my surprise is.”

Trixie clapped her hand over her mouth. She was so engrossed in her
explanation of the day’s events that she’d forgotten all about her father’s
surprise.

“This concerns Charles,” Mr. Belden began, directing his attention to
the silent young man at the end of the table. “Brian told me about your problem
with tuition for school. So this morning, after I’d heard about the amazing
feat you’d all accomplished, I decided to look into it. As an officer of the
bank, I thought there was something I might do to help.” There was a long
silence at the table. Everyone’s attention was on Mr. Belden.

“I’ve cleared it with our loan department, and everything is all set,”
Mr. Belden went on. “If you’ll stop by the bank tomorrow, I’ll have all the papers
ready for you to sign. We at the First National Bank would be delighted if you
would give us the opportunity to help you finish your education—in comfort.”

“You mean—you mean you’ll give me a loan?” Charles said slowly. “Why, I
don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Belden. This is more
than I ever expected.”

Charles leapt up, and quickly walked over to Mr. Belden. Grasping the
older man’s hand, he shook it gratefully.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Trixie started to whoop. “Yippee!”
she yelled. Her joy was so infectious that Bobby joined in, and they were soon
followed by everyone else, including Reddy.

“This is definitely something to celebrate,” Mart said, swallowing a
mouthful of salad. “I’ll have another hamburger in your honor, Charles!”

You see,” Honey said happily, “everything worked out, just like Di said
it would.”