The Marshland Mystery (10 page)

She started to flip it into the grass, then stopped suddenly. She had seen a lot of rhinestones like this lately.

They were decorating something. What was it?

All at once she remembered. That silly collar of Mr. Poo’s was set with rows of glittering fake diamonds like this. It was the first thing she noticed when the little dog leaped at Reddy yesterday afternoon.

Finding the piece of glass here meant that he and Gaye had been inside the gate. And if they had been inside, they could both be in the cottage with the strange old lady, in spite of what she said.

But why hadn’t she admitted Gaye was there? It was very strange.

Trixie had to know if Gaye was inside the cottage. But how could she find out? She was sure the old lady wouldn’t answer her knock again, no matter how long she might hammer on the door.

For once, Trixie had to admit to herself that it was too much to figure out alone. She knew that she needed help.

“Bob-Whites to the Rescue” • 9

TRIXIE DROPPED the shining rhinestone into her jacket pocket and went out through the squeaky gate. She tried her best not to seem in a hurry. She felt sure that the old lady was watching her through the window again. And, unless she was wrong in her guess, Gaye was probably right beside the old lady, giggling because she knew that she was worrying everyone by hiding. By riding away slowly, Trixie hoped she could give them the impression that she had given up looking for Gaye there.

If Gaye were to suspect that Trixie intended to come back again with somebody to help her search, the little girl would probably hide in the swamp with Mr. Poo till she was certain that everyone was worried sick about what had happened to her.

So Trixie strolled over to Lady and climbed into the saddle without looking back toward the house. She rode at a walk at first, but as soon as she had gone around the first turn, she slapped Lady smartly on the flank and urged her into a brisk canter.

“I guess I’d better go right on up to the house and tell Miss Crandall what I’ve found out. I mean, what I
think
I’ve found out.” She didn’t know what Miss Crandall would want to do. Maybe she’d want to go right out there and find out if Gaye really was in the cottage, or she might prefer to call the police and let them go. But it seemed to Trixie, just then, that Miss Crandall was the person she should talk to first.

She was over halfway home when she remembered that she had solemnly promised Regan that she wouldn’t run Lady. She hated to slow down now, but she had to. If Regan suspected that she had disobeyed orders, she’d be grounded for a week. So she slowed the mare to a trot the rest of the way.

It seemed ages before she reached the foot of the Manor House driveway. She saw that there were still a couple of cars in front of the big house. One of them looked like the small car that Paul Trent was using. He was probably hanging around with his tongue out for the news in case anyone found Gaye. Trixie wished that she had been able to bring Gaye home with her from the marsh cottage. That would have shown Mr. Trent that the Bob-Whites
did
know a few answers.

She was passing the little clubhouse when she noticed that the door was standing ajar. She wondered who could be in there. If that Trent character was snooping around inside, she made up her mind, she’d tell him off, but good, especially after his mean crack about the club members.

But when she pushed the door open all the way, the person she saw was Jim Frayne. He was surrounded by books and papers and was concentrating so hard on studying that he didn’t know she was there.

Trixie felt guilty at interrupting him, and she started moving backward quietly, pulling the door closed after her. Unfortunately for her good intentions, she caught one heel against a bit of uneven planking and tripped, falling flat on her back with a dull thud.

Red-faced, she scrambled to her feet at once and saw Jim standing in the doorway, looking surprised.

“Now what are you up to?” he demanded with a grin. “That’s no way for a lady to come calling on a gent.”

“I wasn’t coming; I was g-going,” Trixie told him indignantly, her face getting redder. “I was b-backing away so I wouldn’t interrupt your studying.”

“Where have you been?” Jim took a keen look at the waiting mare. “Lady looks beat. You haven’t been running her, I hope. Regan will skin you alive.”

“Does she look that bad? I slowed her down a long way back.” Trixie’s blue eyes were troubled.

Jim studied her a moment. “What were you running from, Trix?” he asked soberly. “Did somebody bother you? ”

“Oh, no! Nothing like that,” she assured Jim hastily. And then she suddenly made up her mind to tell him about the house by the marsh. “It was just that I was in a hurry to get here. I’ve been to Martin’s Marsh, and I think I’ve found out where Gaye is!”

“Gaye? Oh, great!” Jim’s whole face lit up. “Where?”

“Out there, in a cottage near the marsh. Or I’m pretty

sure she is!” Trixie told him eagerly. “I was on my way to tell Miss Crandall.”

“Wait a minute,” Jim said gravely. “You say you’re pretty sure. You’re not just guessing?”

“Well, partly guessing. But I found Bobby’s bike there, in a ditch, and I’m almost certain Gaye rode it there. And I found
this
on the brick walk.” She handed him the rhinestone with the painted back. “I think it fell out of her dog’s collar.”

Jim studied the rhinestone, without speaking.

“Don’t you see? Gaye
must
be there! There’s a scary old woman living in the cottage who says she never saw Gaye, but I don’t believe her. And I’m sure I heard Mr. Poo barking in the house.”

“You say you’re
pretty
sure,
almost
certain, and
think
this thing could have fallen out of the poodle’s collar— but you’re not really sure of anything except that somebody took Bobby’s bike and left it in a ditch. Isn’t that so?”

“I suppose it is,” Trixie admitted honestly. “It could have been the old lady’s dog I heard. But it seems to me Gaye
could
be there.”

“If you tell Miss Crandall, she’ll hit the ceiling and want to go charging out to the marsh place with a bunch of cops.” Jim looked troubled. “And Gaye may not be anywhere near there.”

“I know.” Trixie nodded. “But we can’t just let
nothing
happen, in case she
is
there!”

A car was turning into the driveway. It was Brian’s jalopy. He saw them and brought the car to a stop. “So there you are!” He sounded cross. “Where’s that bike of Bobby’s you were supposed to bring home?” He shook his head reproachfully at his sister. “The little imp woke up from his nap half an hour ago and has been yowling ever since that he wants to take a ride on his bike.”

“I’m sorry—” Trixie began, but Brian interrupted.

“I had to give him my stopwatch to play with to keep him quiet, and I suppose there’ll be nothing left of it by the time I get back! If he wrecks it, I’ll sue you! Now, where’s the bike?”

“Against a tree out near Martin’s Marsh,” Trixie said, “and I think it was Gaye who left it nearby.”

“Gaye? Now, wait a minute. What is this? Gaye out at Martin’s Marsh? You’re kidding!”

“No, she isn’t,” Jim told him seriously. “There’s a good chance Trixie found the answer to Gaye’s disappearance. The question before the house now is what we’d better do about it.”

“Fill me in,” Brian turned to Trixie.

It took only a couple of minutes for her to tell Brian about the mysterious cottage at the marsh. He looked grave as she finished.

“What do you think she should do? Tell Miss Crandall or phone the police?” Jim asked.

“I’d say don’t do either until you have a lot more evidence than Trixie has found so far,” Brian said promptly. “I happen to know that the old lady who lives in the cottage out there is very respectable. In fact, she’s the last of the Martins, Miss Rachel. She’s lived in that cottage ever since the big Martin place burned forty years ago. Dad knows her. He’s had to go out there several times on business for the bank.”

“But she acted so weird!” Trixie protested.

“People who live alone get pretty set in their ways,” Jim told her with a smile. “Maybe you interrupted her daily beauty nap.”

“But what about the rhinestone from Mr. Poo’s collar? How do you think that got there?” Trixie persisted.

“You don’t know for sure that it
is
from his collar,” Jim reminded her. “I guess we do have a pretty shaky case.”

“Then aren’t we going to do anything about it?” she asked indignantly.

The two boys exchanged uneasy glances. “How about dashing out there in the car and getting the bike?” Brian suggested. “We can be back before dark if we just take a quick look around. We might be able to pick up a trail if the kid wandered into the swamp instead of going to the cottage.”

“I want to go with you,” Trixie said.

“What about Lady? Are you going to let her stand there and catch cold?” Brian asked. “I think you’d better get her up to the stable and start grooming her, before she gets chilled.”

“Gleeps! I almost forgot her,” Trixie moaned.

Brian looked inquiringly at Jim, and Jim nodded. “Okay,” Brian agreed, “you’ve nagged us into it. Weil help you with Lady, and then you can come with us.” The stable seemed deserted as they led the mare in and went to work on her.

It took only a few minutes for Brian and Jim to clean the tack with saddle soap and sponge while Trixie was brushing Lady. She wasn’t quite finished with the job when they put the top on the saddle soap can and squeezed the sponge dry.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Brian teased her, and when she threatened to throw the brush at him, he took it from her, and he and Jim finished grooming Lady while Trixie stood off and bossed the job.

Then, while Brian took Lady to her stall and made her comfortable, Jim carried the saddle into the tack room. Trixie followed with the brushes, soap, sponge, and currycomb.

“Trix,” Jim said suddenly as he turned from hanging up the saddle, “don’t you think you’d better let Brian and me go out alone to Martin’s Marsh? I don’t want to scare you, but—well, you know, all sorts of accidents happen to people in swamps. And if Gaye is hurt—”

Trixie shook her head. “I’ll be all right. And I’m still just as sure as anything that she didn’t wander into the swamp. It must have been raining when she fell into that ditch, and I’m positive she wouldn’t have gone anywhere except to Miss Martin’s cottage. She
must
be there!”

“I hope you’re right.” Jim was very solemn. “Well, come on; let’s get started. We haven’t much daylight left.”

He hurried out, and Trixie took a couple of steps after him. As she did, something cast a moving shadow across the window, and she distinctly heard a footstep on the gravel along the side of the building.

She crossed the room quickly, unfastened the window screen, pushed it up so she could poke her head out, and looked up and down the length of the walk behind the stable. But there was no one in sight. Whoever had passed the window just now was gone, down one of the alleys between the buildings.

She withdrew her head quickly and fastened the screen securely. Then she hurried out to tell the boys that someone might have heard their plans to go out to Martin’s Marsh to look for Gaye.

Jim and Brian refused to get excited about it. “It was probably one of the assistant grooms or Mike the gardener. He keeps his new mower in the end building because there isn’t room for it in the toolshed. It’s one of those big ones with a seat for the guy who’s running it,” Jim said. “He’s promised to let me run it next time he barbers the grass. It ought to be a kick.”

“Say, how about letting me try it? That old elephant of Dad’s has me worn out from pushing it around our two bits’ worth of lawn,” Brian told him. “Let me know when you’ll be piloting it.”

Trixie looked from one to the other, and her eyes flashed. “Maybe it wasn’t the gardener, after all, but somebody who was spying on us!” she said loudly, to get their attention. It was annoying how they got all excited about a silly old lawn mower and refused to worry about important things.

“Oh, sure!” Brian teased her. “It was probably Miss Rachel Martin herself, disguised in a long white beard. Come on, let’s get this over with and bring that bike back to our howling baby brother before he drives Moms wild!”

They each took an arm and hurried Trixie down to the waiting jalopy.

“In you go, duchess,” Jim said, ushering Trixie into the rear seat. “Bob-Whites to the rescue!”

Brian climbed in and took his place at the wheel, and Jim got in beside him. “Lead on, Macduff,” Jim said, with a sweep of his arm.

“It isn’t ‘Lead on, Macduff,’ at all,” Trixie told him crossly. “It’s ‘Lay on, Macduff,’ and it’s from
Macbeth.”

“
Oh, no! Now she’s going literary on us! I never thought it could happen.” Brian groaned as he put the car in motion and headed toward Glen Road.